À Une Dame
By Fewthistle

For Tremblingmoon, for her birthday. Many happy returns, Chickie!!

The box rested in a place of honor on the paper-strewn clutter of her desk. Four inches by three inches, she picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand and gazed at it in wonder. Intricate squares of wood, boxwood, rosewood, satinwood, interlinked, creating endless geometric patterns, covered every surface. Shades of cinnamon, of sable, of sienna, and palest bronze made the surface seem alive with color, rich and supple.

Opening the box, Serena found inside a folded handkerchief of the finest Irish linen, crisp and yet smooth to the touch, around the border of which was embroidered a glorious frieze of flowers. Roses the color of blood, daffodils that shone with the radiance of ten suns, tulips of regal lavender, and morning-glories, that wove all through, their blossoms the same vibrant blue of Serena's eyes. Catching a hint of the scent, Serena raised it to her face, inhaling fully the spicy, opulent spice of Tracey's perfume.

Looking down, she caught sight of the folded slip of thick cream-colored stationary. Taking it gently from the box, Serena read the few lines, her breath catching in her throat, as those blue eyes grew even bluer, refracted through the tears that suddenly filled them.

“A small token of my affection. I won't ask you to wear it on your sleeve in court, but perhaps you will carry it close to your heart, as you are to mine. Happy birthday, my sweet. T”

Slowly sitting in her chair, a bemused smile on her face, Serena held the note in one hand and the handkerchief in the other, occasionally raising the latter to her face to take in the scent of her lover.

Her father had sent her some inordinately expensive, useless gift that his secretary had no doubt picked out. Jack and Arthur had taken her out for an expensive dinner. Her friends had an entire evening of dining and drinking planned for her. All lovely, and thoughtful in their way.

But only Tracey had offered her a sleeve to wear into battle, a sign and show of affection to carry with her as protection against all foes. Standing, Serena picked up the box, tucking the note back inside. Taking the handkerchief, she slipped it inside the warmth of her cashmere sweater. As she flipped off the lights and made her way down the hallway to the elevators, Serena could feel it smooth and cool against her skin, right above her heart.

Author's Note: During the Renaissance, the medieval custom of bestowing handkerchiefs, usually elaborately embroidered with symbolic designs, did emerge as a dominant form of love token, although gloves and sleeves seem to have remained popular.