Archive of Our Own ^beta

Coming in through the cloth drapes of my carriage windows, the sand drifts are relentless in attacking my upholstery and irritating my eyes. Lifting my mask just enough to reach inside, I wipe at the smooth surface of each eye in turn to sweep the specks out of my vision. Futile, more just blows in.

It feels too strange to take it off even here, with only Zaryant by my side. This is the mask my mother wore, the face my people have come to trust, and I am less proud to admit the mask has become a safety blanket for me. Going without it fills me with worry that I might make a strange expression without realizing it, and lose the respect my mother cultivated.

Lowering the guise back into place, I confide my discomfort in my stalwart bodyguard. “We must have glass windows installed before our next visit to the Bee Kingdom. This sand grates on my nerves.”

Across from me sits Zaryant, a towering ant warrior. The two of us leave scarce space between us within the carriage, our legs pressed against one another and her shield resting against the door. Even here, just the two of us, it is impossible for me to relax completely. Even with the one person to whom my deepest secrets are known. A protective layer of station and duty separates us.

Her voice, powerful and sharp when lashed against all others, is brought low and soft in answer. “We may not need to wait, my Queen. Defiant Root is home to the finest glass blowers in Bugaria.”

“Is that so Zaryant? Instruct the carriage master to have them installed before we leave.”

Not withstanding this annoyance a second time when we return home eases one tension.

Bugaria looks so small from above. Looking down from the Hive’s lift makes me dizzy and uneasy, but my body language cannot betray weakness in front of Queen Bianca’s soldiers. My back remains straight, my arms folded in place. Perfectly unbothered on the surface. I probe at their masks for any hint of expression, but there is only a reflection of the blue sky. I should commission face plates for my own soldiers’ helmets.

The wooden lift sways as it clicks into place in the boughs of Hive. With my entourage behind me, I take a slow methodical step and follow Zaryant onto the walkway. The explorers I hired to guide my carriage through the desert lag behind, their legs quivering.

“We’ll go together,” one of the twin ants takes the other’s hand in her own and they cross over.

Inside of the Hive we are greeted with another expression of Queen Bianca’s power. Doors move on their own, shutting behind us. A pair of bees on the other side of a glass screen look at us, humbly avoiding my eyes. My hands tense, digging into the fabric of my sleeves. Only Zaryant’s steel resolve keeps me from overreacting. She has been here before with Elizant my mother, when she was but a serving girl. If we were in any danger, I know that she would act first.

Light passes through the passage and back again, tracing our shapes and then vanishing. Whatever purpose this light may have, the bees are satisfied and the door opens. To my surprise, we are not led to the throne room, instead turning away.

Golden honeycomb windows and tapestries with the Bee Kingdom’s emblem adorn the walls of the banquet hall. It paints the whole room in a soft orange light that reminds me of honey, making my stomach rumble.

The long oval table is attended by serving bees wearing fine black tuxedos. One of them is far larger than others of her kind, and with pale yellow fur. Queen Bianca is waiting for us in one of two tall broad seats on the opposite side. At first I reach for the chair on the opposite side, thinking the plain chair is another power play by my counterpart.

“Oh, Elizant. Your place at the table is here, next to me,” her elegant yellow arm swings through the air, with the slow and unhurried grace of a monarch. Her motion invites me to take the second throne. Sliding the chair I’d taken back into place, I round the hall and accept her hand, easing down into the honey-tinted white cushion. My abdomen slides into a gap in the back of the seat, settling comfortably into place. “I like to precede any negotiation with a good meal. I find everyone is more cooperative when they feel full and happy, my dear.”

“That is fine with me. Thank you,” slipping my hand back out of hers’ when they linger for too long, I fold it in my lap. I’m not sure whether to call her by Queen Bianca or only Bianca. Is she mocking me by not addressing me by my title, or is that how they speak here? So many minute details that my mother never prepared me for before she-

My entourage are each seated by an attendant, and I notice that there are no plates or food laid out for us. In each place are a smooth wooden cup, a folded cloth bib and a kerchief. “What are we having?”

“Only the freshest honey is good enough for my guests,” holding her delicate fingers to her chest, Queen Bianca nods magnanimously. Her servants, each standing behind Zaryant and the explorer twins, take the bibs from the table and carefully fit them in place. Zaryant removes her helmet and sets it on the table in front of her, a gesture I rarely see from her. It must be as embarrassing for her to be seen without it as it is for me without my mask, for I see a flushed shade in her cheeks.

Queen Bianca’s hand rests upon the bib before me. “May I?”

“I prefer to put it on myself,” not wanting to be doted on like a nymph I take the bib myself and fasten it around my neck. “But thank you.” Small talk not being an area I’m confident in, I hope to myself that the fresh honey will not take long to prepare. To my renewed surprise, the Queen claps her hands and the servants do not go anywhere but instead put on bibs of their own and gently cup my ants’ chins in their hands.

The bee next to Zaryant, the intimidating hulk, leans down and guides my bodyguard’s face up to hers’. Zaryant reciprocates comfortably and their mouths lock together. The two explorers, Gen and Eri, are as surprised as I am and make muffled moans of protest into their attendants’ mouths before going quiet, each bee gently running a hand down her guest’s back.

A gentle hand settles its fingertips on my chin, each tip barely tracing against my carapace. The intimate contact sends electrical shivers down my back, and my head turns to face Queen Bianca who now stands between our thrones. “This mask is going to get in the way, dear,” she runs the fingers of her other hand down the side of my face, brushing the edge of the cool material. “May I lift it up, only just a little?”

Not wanting to offend her in her own hall, I lift my mask just enough to uncover my mouth, using my arm to shield my face from view of the other guests. As if any were paying attention, absorbed as they are in sucking on each other’s faces. My eyes are now out of alignment with their slits, and I wait in darkness until Queen Bianca guides our mouths together.

Her playful tongue, long and flexible, dances into my mouth as if she owns it. Where it touches my own, I can taste the sweet sugary bliss of fresh honey right from the bee’s mouth. Trickles of the golden liquid run down her tongue and dribble onto mine. To my embarrassment, I find myself instinctively lapping at her tongue and suckling from it.

Time loses its meaning in the sweet, blissful darkness. I can feel a bead of golden saliva break free and trail down my cheek, down my neck, settling onto the bib. Heavy honey settles into my stomach and leaves me feeling full, a warm happiness spreading out through my body. Where I had been apprehensive at first, offended even, by the sudden contact my body yearns for more as Queen Bianca finally pulls away and cold air rushes into my mouth, replacing her touch. The smell of tea hits me, and I realize someone has poured some into my cup.

Swallowing one last time, I quickly cover up my slack mouth with my mask and try to reclaim my poise. “That was,” I search for the right words that I am willing to give voice, I find my mind blank and instead say, “That was the freshest honey I’ve ever had.”

Queen Bianca brings a single finger to her chin. She produces a deep, motherly giggle as she scoops some splashed honey from her face and dips the finger into her mouth. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It looks like your subjects are satisfied as well.” She’s right. The twins are lying back in their chairs with their hands on their stomachs, ready to fall asleep. Zarya is leaning back, one of her attendant’s legs draped between her own as they continue to exchange a deep kiss.

Looking away out of respect, I find I have no recourse but to look into Queen Bianca’s eyes, glowing in the light from the windows. She’s looking at me intently, and it feels like those motherly eyes can see straight through my mask as if it weren’t there. “Shall we go somewhere more private to talk, Elizant?”

To clear my head and cleanse my palate, I take a sip of the still warm tea. “Of course.”

“I prefer to have my diplomatic discussions in a more relaxed setting. I hope you don’t mind, I already took the initiative of having the royal spa prepared for us,” she stands and offers a hand to help me stand. I only hesitate briefly, before accepting.

“If you insist,” after the culture shock I’ve faced so far, I am worried how this might go. And still a part of me looks forward to it. Drinking the Queen’s honey is the most relaxed I’ve felt since mother passed.

A wall of steamy air hits me in Queen Bianca’s boudoir before we even step foot into the spa baths. Queen Bianca doesn’t miss a beat before she sets one foot on a stylish wooden bench and begins sliding out of her stockings. A new rush of warmth hits my face. I should have realized, but I can’t go into the bath wearing my coat and dress.

I sheepishly turn away and undo the buttons holding my royal garment in place. Behind me, I can hear the straps of her lace abdomen garter coming undone. “Take a breath, Elizant.” Her voice startles me out of imagining what’s going on behind me and I gasp, realizing I’d been holding it in.

“Sorry,” my composure nearly falters as I fold my coat upon my bench, feeling exposed and naked. When I turn and see her standing nude as well, it feels strangely sensual, even though common bugs so often go without the clothes that royals use to separate themselves. I can feel her eyes on me even as I take her in in turn.

We step into the spa, where sponges, lotions and oils are arranged on either side of a wide, shallow bath. Bianca steps in first, and I find myself taking her hand again to walk down into the water. The stark contrast of its heat even against the steamy air above makes my body shiver, and I lower myself down into it.

There is a silence as she settles into the water next to me. “This is such a strange way to have kingdom negotiations. Don’t you feel embarrassed?” I finally ask, finding the strength to challenge her bizarre rituals.

“Elizant,” my name drips from Bianca’s golden tongue like honey, and she reaches up to pinch the bottom of my mask between her fingers. “My dear, just relax… and there is no need to hide your true beauty either. We are the only ones here, two Queens, equals.” I do not resist her as she pulls the mask from my face, and the hot steam hits my flushed face. The hard surface of the mask clinks where Bianca sets it beside the pool, and she picks up a bottle of lotion. “I know every bit how hard it weighs on your shoulders. Lie down and let me ease your tension.”

I give in and let her guide me, lying on my stomach with my head resting on a cushion that keeps it just above the water. “It can’t be so hard for you. You radiate royalty, your palace towers above Bugaria, you may as well be untouchable.” My doubts start to bubble up as she lathers the lotion between her hands, then stammer and go silent as her strong, but gentle grip presses against my shoulders.

“I’m afraid of heights,” her voice is like a whisper in my ear that makes the surface of my carapace tingle as she straddles over me. Her heavy abdomen presses down on the back of mine. “But if my daughters see me afraid, then they will be afraid too.” Her hands run down the curve of my back, pressing and relieving strain. The lotion smells like flowers. “I tried to hide it for a long time. Eventually I learned that if they see me be courageous in the face of fear, then they will be courageous too. You’ll learn to let go of your mask, Elizant.” My feet curl subconsciously as her delicate fingers begin to squeeze down the sides of my abdomen, and I let out an uninhibited, contented sigh. “Just like that.”

Bianca’s ministrations continue, tracing up and down my arms, and playing along the contours of my legs, until every part of me feels fully relaxed. My eyes are heavy, as she lays down on her back beside me, turning to look at my on the pillow. “Don’t sleep yet, dear. It’s my turn.”

Water cascades off my body when I lift it reluctantly out of the engulfing warmth. “I don’t know if I can-” she reaches up and places a finger on my mouth, hushing the self-doubt like a misbehaving child.

“You don’t need to know. Just try.”

Swallowing, I squirt some lotion out onto my hand and rub them together. A soft white, bubbly foam coats my palms and squeezes between my fingers. I follow her example, stepping over her and lowering myself to straddle her, our hips and abdomens coming together and pressing against each other. But of course, she has to position herself looking up at me the entire time. Leaning in, I dig my hands into her fuzzy chest and rub forwards and backwards, working the lathered lotion in. The whole time watched by a serene smile that makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst from my back.

I work my way down, massaging her waist and then her hips, my abdomen slick with water sliding gently across her own until hers’ is between my legs. Bianca mercifully closes her eyes and leans back into the massage as I begin to work my hands into her bulging bottom. When I reach the edges of her stinger, I start my way up again, taking her legs over my shoulders and squeezing them firmly from the base to the tip. Bianca’s abdomen twitches between my legs, and a soft moan escapes her. At last feeling confident in breaking her poise in return, I ease her legs back down and follow my instincts.

Bending forward, I settle my body atop hers’. Her eyes open and meet mine only a hair’s breadth apart, and I press our mouths together. Bianca reaches behind me and takes hold of my arched back, running her fingertips down it. We fade into the steam together, two bodies merging for a long wonderful moment into one.