Chapter Text
"So, you're learning to fight?" The voice dripped, low and heavy, with honey.
Constance heard the quiet rustle of silk skirts against the rough wooden floorboards of her kitchen floor, as the owner of the voice swept into the room. Constance, leaning against the hard worktop, didn't turn around, not yet, but she could feel the other's presence keenly.
"Aye, I am learning," She said, finishing up her cooking.
"Oh, my dear," The voice spoke again, soft as velvet though it had an edge like a musketeer's sword. Constance finally turned around, coming face to beautiful face with the dark haired Milady. The latter had a look of deep interest on her face, or was it disgust at the idea of the innocent Constance learning to wield instruments of death?
Constance just crossed her arms, and looked directly at the other woman. "What of it, my lady?" She asked, her eyebrows arching.
"Oh, my dear. You should have come to me. You know I would teach you!" The honey in the voice still dripped with each sound, but now the speech was sweeter. Though, the look on the pale woman's face was definitely concern now, her midnight black eyes sparkled.
Constance giggled, "I am sorry, I thought you would be too busy! I have seen you hardly at all of late. Now, some wine?" She offered, leaning over to kiss each pale cheek in greeting.
"Oh yes, but you know I would never be too busy for you! And getting D'Artangan to teach you, I mean really.."
Constance giggled again at the ensconced look on her friend's face, she handed her a glass of wine taking her own, and waved Milady into a chair at the old wooden table. "D'Artangan does well enough, though I cannot pretend your skills are not superior."
Milady smiled and raised her glass to her lips.