Fantasy ♡ need you like a heartbeat. (starboob & ellarose.)

[ellarose]

Juliet and Willow are certainly not the only ones facing repercussions from the night prior. As the marshal doles out instructions in regards to the opening ceremony and preparations that must be made before it is to begin, it's apparent with no more than a cursory glance that quite a few princes and their squires are absent from the morning's proceedings. It can be presumed that those who drank the most may have overslept or abstained altogether in order to preserve their dignity. Juliet recalls quite a few of them slumping down into their seats, resting their foreheads on the tabletops and being unable to pick themselves up again. If they do arrive later, their lateness will be counted against them. The tournament is just as much about measuring strength as it is about a prince's conduct and chivalry.

When it comes to conduct, many of those present are yawning, squinting their weary red eyes and running their hands through their heads of bedraggled hair. They're an ill-prepared group, to say the least, and the marshal does not appear even the slightest bit pleased by the princess's prospects. Among them, those who appear to be in the finest shape are King Cayman, Prince Evren, and Prince Devlin DeSkies. Considering those three were not present at the tavern, this is unsurprising. However, it's also worth noting that Prince Bain and Prince Ivory are also in high spirits contrary to their overeager insistence that everyone drink, drink, drink to their hearts content the night before.

Now that she's recovering a headache of her own, Juliet sees this scheme for precisely what it is. It was an amateur mistake, trying to fit in, thinking that acting as one of them would offer them any sort of valuable intel. Though it does strike her as rather strange that Prince Bain would be conspiring against the competition, already having successfully gotten a few to drop out altogether given that he didn't seem particularly interested in Princess Elise. It's unfortunate that his nauseating opinions and intent to court her weren't among the things she had forgotten about. Nevertheless, they'll have to keep an eye on him and those he keeps close.

Eventually, they're dismissed to prepare for the opening ceremony. This entails the assembling of the princes armor as well as preparing their horses to walk around the arena and greet the spectators. Those who arrived without an entire team of squires to attend to every need are lent a few palace squires to help with the process of shining the armor and fitting it just-so. (The armor needs to be fitted by at least three men. There are a good many ways a man might perish during a tournament should this be done incorrectly.) A squire's task is not an easy one by any means-- and while Juliet wishes she could lend Willow some help, her role as a prince prevents her from it. Not to mention that this armor restricts her movement quite a bit.

If Juliet could compare the experience to anything, it's like preparing for a show backstage at the opera house. (Only she's fairly certain that these princes are far more theatrical and vain than the dancers when she notes how they order their squires about.) Many of them puff up their chests and admire themselves in the mirror. Some of the younger princes succumb to panic and insist that they aren't prepared. Others are still half asleep, barely holding themselves upright in their heavy armor.

"Tell me... does the queen fancy beards?" Like Prince Bain, Prince Maximillion seems to have his sights set elsewhere. He strokes his beard as dreadfully unimpressed Amorian squires help him into his armor. "Well, am I to be blamed for my interest?" He laughs when he takes note of everyone's skepticism. "Her majesty also requires a king, does she not? I have... refined taste. And then queen is as regal as she is beautiful."

No one dignifies the man with a response. Even so, he keeps asking questions pertaining to Queen Viviane's interests and preferences and the squires can scarcely keep themselves from rolling their eyes at him. It might be Juliet's imagination, but she swears the portrait of the queen is glaring daggers at the prince.

When the princes are assembled to see the arena and receive further instruction on their entrances and the events to come, the squires are led to the stables to meet and prepare the horses. Sir Declan Carter is led to a thrashing midnight black horse with wild eyes and flaring nostrils. The squire who introduces them fidgets nervously, teetering from foot to foot as if it takes everything in him not to run as fast as his feet can carry him.

"As the last to arrive, Prince Jayden has been assigned to 'Ol Misery." The squire peers in at the horse and then flinches, backing away slowly. "A-A word of advice? Don't look her directly in the eyes." He proceeds to thrust a brush against Willow's chest and scurries off, wanting nothing more to do with 'Ol Misery. (And if her name implies anything at all...) Unlike before, there's no team to help with this next bit-- making the horse's coat shiny and dressing them in the kingdom's colors and crest is left entirely to Willow.

All hope may be lost... when a monkey in a little triangle hat swings down from one of the ceiling beams overhead and lands on the Wonderlandian's shoulder. They point to their hat, clap their hands excitedly, and then point across the stable to Asher. The man glances around reluctantly before ultimately rushing over to them.

"Rotten luck. Your prince won't last a minute on 'Ol Misery... I've heard she hasn't been the same since her old rider died." Asher informs her. "Apparently she's thrown off every fellow who's dared to ride her since." The monkey frowns at him, crossing their arms, and the other squire tugs at his collar guiltily. "But since you helped us out yesterday..." He lowers his voice. "Surely there must be another horse around here somewhere? A few of the princes have already dropped out, after all."

 

[starboob]

Willow straight up does not remember this guy or his companion. She vaguely recalls that the squire’s name is Asher and that she met him last night after the banquet while everyone mingled and the princes introduced themselves to Princess Elise. But she doesn’t recall having a particularly meaningful moment with the other squire. They only introduced themselves. Though she does distinctly remember that the monkey had a top hat last night—it was very cute—and now they're wearing one of those paper hats she used to make with the other kids of the cove when they would play mermaids and pirates. ‘Did I make that?’ It’s not like Willow can spot her own craftsmanship, but the monkey seems especially keen on her, so she assumes that she must have, especially with how they point to the hat and clap their little hands. (They remind her a bit of Clover’s companion.)

Clearly, William Jameson made an impression on this squire and his companion and now Willow James (as Sir Declan Carter) is reaping the rewards of whatever shenanigans she got herself into last night. ‘Thank gods to whatever you did last night, William Jameson. I will never doubt your powers again.’

The sorceress takes an uneasy step away from Ol’ Misery. The horse huffs out a hot breath from her nostrils and Willow can’t decide whether or not the horse is silently communicating to her that she’s made a wise choice by backing off. (As if horses aren’t terrifying enough, this one is actively trying to scare her. So rude!) And she’s doubly grateful that the events of last night have inadvertently freed up some of the less aggressive horses. ‘Now if only I could communicate with them like Leif.’ Then she’d be able to figure out which of these horses is going to be best for Juliet. They’ve shockingly never discussed their steed preferences.

She looks around the stables, spotting the horses that don’t seem to be getting attention. It’s safe to assume those are the available ones as the other squires are frantically preparing their horses. Too many of them are likely scared of their prince’s wrath should his steed not be shiny or presentable enough. No one is going to notice if Sir Declan Carter prepares a different horse for her prince, right?

“Thank you for the suggestion, Asher.” She grins at the other and pats him on the shoulder. Though tempted to ask for a suggestion—given she knows roughly two percent about horses—she decides against it. It would be odd for a squire to not know a thing or two about horses and even worse for Asher to help her. He’s already done enough by making the suggestion. “May our princes impress the princess.” She wants to literally gag saying that, but holds it down. She does the Wonderlandian reverse bow and sneaks through the stables towards one of the free steeds.

As predicted, no one pays her any mind. The squires are far too occupied with their own tasks. She notices that King Cayman’s glassy eyed squire is shaking as he performs his tasks and she can see dark bruises underneath his sleeves. Other squires, like Prince Evren’s, seem a touch more relaxed though everyone is diligent with their work regardless of the temperament of their prince (or king).

While she walks through the stables, she also catches whiffs of magic. To the untrained nose—and she guesses that is most Folklorians—it’s not obvious, but to someone like Willow, a master caster, she identifies this magic without even needing to see the charms. It’s a thick energy in the air. In particular, she notes that Princes Bain and Devlin’s squires are cleaning their horses with some sort of concoction dusted over their brushes. ‘Hmm.’ Though they aren’t the only squires who seem to be working enchantments into the horses, she takes specific note of those two, not trusting the sky princes after everything last night. (It’s just too convenient that Devlin didn’t attend last night’s debauchery. It’s just too suspicious that Bain has already set his sights elsewhere.) For now, she only takes note of the horses who are having magic worked on them and quietly deliberates how to undo the enchantments.

Though most of her attention is on the free horses, examining the other options for Juliet and wondering if she should go for another black horse to lessen suspicion of the switch or select the horse that seems to have the best temperament. ‘Well. Maybe they won’t notice? Or care?’ With a few sugarcubes in her hand, she scratches her head as she stands between two different horses, trying to figure out which one might suit Juliet best. Then something from behind, something fleshy, reaches for the hand on her head, spooking her (naturally), and when she turns, a white horse with a black splotch over his nose is gently nibbling at her closed fist. He quickly shakes his head and pretends he hadn’t just been trying to eat the sugarcubes from her hand. “Yes. You’ll do.”

Just like that, Willow decides this is the perfect horse for Prince Jayden Darling. She opens her palm to Lavender Haze, allowing him to lap up the sugarcubes before she sets to work on his coat with the brush. But, to be perfectly honest, Willow has no idea what she’s doing and it’s time like these where she wishes she could call Leif to ask. Stealing glances at the other squires somewhat informs her of what she’s supposed to be doing, at least in theory, but the sorceress is lost and just hoping for the best at this point.

While she struggles with the saddle, Asher’s companion swings down from the ceiling and lands directly in front of Willow. “Oh, hello,” she mumbles as she pulls on the straps, remembering something about how horses tend to hold their breaths or something. The monkey companion surveys her work, nodding in some places and shaking their head in others. “What? I’m trying my best here!”

The monkey points to Lavender’s unkempt mane and some spots she missed on his face. Perhaps taking pity on the squire, the monkey helps take care of the knots in the mane and tail. They even help clean off the spots on the horse’s face and point to areas on the straps that need tightening. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt him…” The monkey insists and, for some reason, Willow decides to trust the monkey. They clearly bonded last night and she doesn’t think the monkey will betray her. (She is putting Juliet’s life in the hands of a monkey… She’ll think about this later.)

Once all is done, the squires lead the horses to another backstage area to rejoin their princes and present them with their steeds before the opening ceremony officially begins. When Willow finds Juliet, she does one last check of her armor and then hands her a… hair tie? She slips it around Juliet’s wrist, then waves her hands over it before she explains. “Your disguise is now tied to that hair tie. Take it off to undo the spell and slip it back on to reactivate the disguise. Easy peasy.”

She looks around at the other princes (and king) then leans in to whisper, “Most of these bozos are cheating. I’ve got some ideas on how to even things out though.” She pats her chest where her staff is disguised as a trinket on her necklace. “I didn’t see the prince you’re facing off against doing anything funny, but I’ll keep an eye out. You nervy? If you are, you can just imagine that I'm giving a good luck hug right now.” She ordinarily wouldn't hold back, but even as a Wonderlandian, she doesn't want to risk anything. Not after Bain's "jokes" last night. They need to keep as low a profile as they can.

 

[ellarose]

Juliet glances curiously at her wrist, almost inclined to take the hair tie off to test this new feature out before snapping her hand back to her side. No. (It would indeed be funny, though, to see everyone's reactions right now. Especially after everything that transpired last night.) Ah, what is she thinking? Not yet, Juliet. Chaotic and satisfying as the revelation will eventually be, it simply won't due to reveal herself this early. And yet she's impatient for it. Impatient to prove herself to all of them. However, she must be patient. She nods resolutely to signal that she understands Willow's instructions, her cheeks brushed over with the faintest shade of pink as she visualizes herself receiving a good luck hug. (It is probably for the best that the sorceress does not hug her-- Juliet foresees herself losing the function of her legs under such circumstances. Ah... because of this heavy armor, of course, and the way her balance might be affected as a result. It has nothing to do with her warmth or the softness of her curls against her face or the trace of comforting herbs and spices she might smell. None of that.)

"Nervy..." Juliet says the unfamiliar word slowly, her brow furrowing with confusion. "Is that the same as 'topsy turvy'?" They're all rather silly words and the implications are dizziness or disorientation. (Oh. Is Willow concerned about her?) She scratches her cheek shyly... and then catches Prince Bain staring at them in her peripheral. A fire lights up in her chest. "I will be fine. Even more so when I start knocking these princes off their high horses."

Juliet smirks at Prince Bain. He looks aghast and turns his head with a haughty little sniff.

When the princes (and king) are called to line up, Juliet puts on a determined expression to reassure Willow and nods. It's time. "Good luck with the rest of the preparations." The squires are already rushing off to prepare the lances and shields for the upcoming joust, scrambling for paints and brushes to adorn them with their kingdom's colors and crests.

The opening ceremony proceeds, princes riding out into the arena one after the other. First they're meant to ride the perimeter of the arena, allowing everyone present a view of them. Then they are to dismount in front of the raised balcony the queen, princess, and other royals will be spectating from. In this moment, they are to bow and offer a simple introduction piece. ('Simple' was stressed numerous times... especially to Prince Maximillion, who only continued to make inquires about the queen.) After that they mount their horses again and ride off to a lineup on the sidelines. It's all rather elaborate and Juliet cannot help but wonder why they haven't given them time to rehearse any of this in advance. Then again, she never got to participate in tournaments the way these men have. Her experience will be unique in that this is her first one.

Most of the princes take their entrances seriously, keeping them simple and brief as instructed. As the introductions carry on, though, they become less memorable and a touch more boring. Noticing this change, a few of the princes decide to act as crowd-pleasers, producing small instruments to offer songs or poems to commemorate the beginning of their quests to claim the princess's heart. (Ugh.) Naturally, Prince Bain and Prince Devlin are among those to share their talents with the arena, eliciting enthusiastic cheers from the crowd. Especially as Prince Devlin's song makes petals rain down from the ceiling, causing everyone to gasp with awe.

One of the princes performs a little gimmick where he produces a rose seemingly out of thin air. The crowd is relatively pleased by this, offering him a smattering of applause. When he tosses it up at the balcony for Princess Elise to catch, however, the rose doesn't make it high enough to even land at her feet. It sadly bounces off the flower-covered railing and lands on the sandy arena floor with a quiet little 'thump'. Someone in the stands coughs. A guard awkwardly shuffles forward to move the rose to ensure it doesn't get trampled later as the prince slumps his shoulders dejectedly and rides into the lineup.

Juliet can tell that Princess Elise is on the verge of offering this fumbling prince an encouraging smile out of pity. With the circumstances being what they are, she holds herself stiller and sterner than her own mother. She has not yet smiled at anyone-- is not as easily pleased, flustered, or won over as most of these men first thought she would be. They've no doubt heard stories of her kindhearted and 'naive' nature... but now, they're truly seeing the challenge it will be to win her favor. Among them, Juliet can tell that there are a good many of these men who enjoy that sort of chase. Very much like Prince Bain, who seemed to think her double's odd display at dinner was an attempt to attract a man who might... bleh... tame her. Ugh.

This invigorated interest does not apply to Prince Maximillion, though. The guards exchange a wary glance when they give him the signal to ride into the arena, perhaps dreading what they've just unleashed. With good reason.

"Excuse me, your majesty. Do you perhaps have a map I could borrow?" Prince Maximillion asks after making his introduction. He kneels, dramatically clasping one hand over his heart while using the other to reach towards the balcony above like a thespian. Queen Viviane arches a brow at this request, silently begging him to stop this and stand with her eyes. Completely oblivious to this, the prince wears a sly grin. "Because I just got lost in thine eyes."

If that wasn't horrific enough, he also winks. The arena goes completely silent. A horse huffs and stomps their hooves. Someone coughs. If Queen Viviane's eyes could reduce a man to ashes, Prince Maximillion would be dissolving into the sand by now. Princess Elise clasps a hand over her mouth and then skillfully raises her frilly little fan to disguise what must be a laugh.

"...Do get up." Queen Viviane demands frigidly before gesturing imperiously towards the other princes. "Do you require a map to take your place among the others as well?"

"No, your majesty. Of course not, your majesty." Prince Maximillion jumps up to his feet and mounts his horse. But not before grinning at the queen again. "Fates, you're so gorgeous when you tell me what to do."

The silence stretches on, with the exception of the prince's clopping hooves as he takes his place among the other princes. Prince Grinnel, who is positioned next to him, inches away... perhaps afraid to be caught in the crossfire should the queen decide to throw a spear their way. Queen Viviane brushes her hand over the silver weapon embroidery on her gown, no doubt fantasizing about a reality where she cleaves the man in two. (If he were not a prince, Juliet's not so sure if it would only be a fantasy.) The queen collects herself with a breath and eases back down into her seat, discreetly massaging her temples before directing her attention to the arena once more as the introductions continue on.

Meanwhile, the squires are hard at work outside of the arena painting lances for their princes. Given they'll need eight for each round, more palace squires are assigned to help those who might need it... though many of them appear to prioritize Prince Devlin's group. One of his squires politely asks to borrow some blue paint from one of the other groups, insisting that he'll only need it for a moment. When he believes no one is looking, he scatters a powder of some sort into the paint before giving it back. Notably, he does not use even a single drop of this altered paint on Prince Devlin's lances.

Asher and his monkey rejoin Willow as they get back to work-- having left briefly to witness Prince Grinnel's introduction. "The audacity of Prince Maximillion..." The squire shakes his head, at a loss. The monkey takes their hat off, scratches their head, and then replaces it. (It would appear that many of the squires feel open enough now to share grievances about their princes now that they're out of sight and are left to their own work. The words 'pompous' and 'spoiled' get thrown about quite a bit. King Cayman's squire just looks warily at the flowers and then back at these squires, perhaps foreseeing a disaster.) "It seems that Prince Jayden will be the last to make his introduction... and his will be the last jousting match as well. That is rather fortunate-- you'll have more time to make preparations."

As one of Prince Bain's squires walks by, he pretends to trip over Willow's jar of green paint... knocking it over, spilling it everywhere. "...Ah, forgive me! My mistake." (Despite the apology, he rushes off to his own work without offering any help with the cleanup.)

"...We can lend you our help when our prince's first match has concluded." Asher offers, flinching as he reaches behind him to hand Willow a towel.

 

[starboob]

Willow takes the childish behavior without complaint or hint of irritation. She waves it off while Alric overacts his apology. He probably thinks he’s being slick, taking her Wonderlandian persona for granted, but little does he know… He’s messing with the wrong sorceress. ‘Something’s up with these sky princes and I don’t like it.’ It’s not even that they’re cheating. It’s that they’re working together. And she wants to know why, because she does not understand what Bain has to gain from this set up. ‘Is there another reason he’s interested in Juliet?’

Absently, she takes the towel from Asher, thanks him, and starts to clean off the floor. Or attempts to. All she really manages to do is smear around the paint, to the point that one of the guards comes over and takes the rag from her. He scolds her about making it worse and when she only stares at him blankly, still too in her own world to notice, he sighs and takes over the task. She only somewhat registers what’s happened and unquestioningly accepts the help. ‘I’ll definitely need to make sure Devlin and Bain don't last long in this competition.’ She needs to find out what their squires did to their horses and she needs to figure out what went into that bucket of blue paint.

“Excuse me,” she mumbles to her group. “I have to go make some more green paint.” As she walks through the stables, she makes a note of the squires using the tainted paint. As far as she can tell, Falco, Devlin’s squire, targeted the princes facing the sky princes. Though princes like Jayden, who also use blue in their colors, are affected. By her estimate, this is going to affect eight other princes.

All this swirls through the sorceress's mind as she grabs the tainted blue paint from a squire, then gathers the yellow from another. She’s more than confident she can keep Juliet’s lances clean, but it doesn’t sit right with her that so many others are going to be collateral damage. It doesn’t sit right with her that so many of these “noble” men are trying to cheat their way into the princess’s heart. (Not that Elise is going to let any of them in. She's already heard the other squires reporting back that if Viviane is the ice queen, then Elise is the snow princess for all the warmth she’s offered her prospects.) The paints might not even be the only way that these princes are cheating. In fact, she knows that it's not. She needs to be vigilant. And quick.

She hums quietly as she plots and once she’s finished mixing her paints, she returns to her spot in between Asher and Magnus, Prince Maximillion’s squire. The paint spill from earlier has been cleaned up and Willow makes a note to thank Sir Regis for the help later. Then she sets to work. She first starts by identifying the effects of the powder, dipping a test twig into her paint and fans it to dry it out (using a small boost from the wind). She pretends to compare the dry color to the lances she painted with the last mix, then drops the twig based on a hunch. That hunch pays off when the twig subsequently shatters like glass.

“Everything alright?” Asher asks, poking up his head when he hears glass breaking. Remy, his monkey, is also at alert and hops over to Willow’s shoulder to examine the sorceress for injuries. Willow grins at the companion and throws a thumbs up towards Asher.

“More than. Just dropped a trinket.” She blows out a raspberry, fingers drumming against her hips. “Have you seen the polish?”

“You aren’t even done with your lances.” Magnus points out without breaking eye contact with himself. He holds a shield up to his face, fixes an askew lock of hair, and glances over at the Wonderlandian like she’s an idiot for even mentioning the polish. “Nor have you started on your shield.”

“Sir, your beeswax. You ought to mind it.”

“My… My beeswax?” Magnus looks up from his reflection in time to see Willow throw up a peace sign (something that equally perplexes him) as she leaves to find the polish.

Magnus is right that Willow is nowhere near ready to polish the lances, but she knows some of the other squires (and teams of squires that are suspiciously favoring the sky princes) are nearing that point. So she goes off to find the polish with the help of Sir Regis.

Near the front of the preparations tent an Amorian squire is preparing the polish in a large vat, stirring the mixture. When Willow approaches, the squire brusquely informs her that it isn’t ready. Then he looks over at her station from his stool and lifts a brow. “Your lances aren’t even finished.”

“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” Willow shrugs, standing on her tiptoes to look into the vat. “Seems your polish isn’t finished. Why don’t we trade? I tire of painting and I can see your enthusiasm for this task waning.”

The squire does look rather angry with his assigned task and, as he looks over at her station again, he shifts his weight from foot to foot as he considers. His eyes narrow then slide back over to the Wonderlandian. “Are you trying to rig the tournament so that Prince Jayden Darling wins? I’ve been assigned to this task so that no one meddles or tampers with the supplies.”

Willow is tempted to point out how, if that is the purpose of the Amorian squires, they have failed severely, but she holds her tongue and simply tilts her head. “I can’t say that was on my mind. I told you, I simply tire of painting. Have the good man, Sir Regis, watch me if you are so concerned. Certainly it should be fine for us to switch with the proper supervision.”

Sir Regis, who has been standing behind Willow since he helped her over here, nods and mumbles something about needing a change of scenery. Seemingly satisfied with this arrangement, the squire agrees and hands the large wooden spoon to the sorceress. She steps up onto the stool and begins working the mixture. Several of the other princes' squires take note and watch her. Some are even bold enough to stand right by her shoulder, poking their heads over the vat to see if she’s doing anything funny. But the only funny thing she’s doing is stirring in an odd, inefficient pattern. No one comments on this, most likely guessing that this is just Wonderlandian antics. No one suspects the sorceress of weaving in a few spelling-breaking glyphs. Heh.

By the time she finishes with her task, it’s near time for Prince Jayden Darling’s entrance—something that has become highly anticipated with the events of last night’s banquet circulating through the Amoria gossip mill. When Willow steps out of the tent, the weight of boredom lands on her shoulders like a cartoon anvil. After so many introductions, some comedic, some embarrassing, the crowd is growing weary and restless. However, as Prince Llewellyn takes his place along the line and Prince Jayden takes his cue, the silence changes. Whereas before the audience had been disengaged, now they lean forward, waiting to see whether or not this really is a prince of dreams. (And could he be the prince of their dreams?)

 

[ellarose]

Juliet likens the looming entranceway to the outstretched maw of a monster. She gazes up into the soft light it emits as the guards signal that it's nearly her turn, taking a deep breath in and clutching the reins. The crowd awaits and she already dreads their attention. Is all this parading around even necessary? She wishes to simply get on with it so she can engage in an activity which gives her a socially acceptable excuse knock the other princes off their horses. Even after attempting to console herself with the affirmation that she is not riding into the arena as Juliet August, there's still this squirming, uncomfortable feeling roiling in her gut. How many times has she stood amidst a crowd while enduring humiliation and heartbreak? The experience is a glimpse into hell.

'You need not please anyone, Juliet. You've come here to ruin everything.' When Juliet considers this, the nerves subside like magic. She is not opening her heart to anyone, nor is she exposing it to harm. It survived many battles, left bruised and mangled, and now it's made of steel. The analogy is helped along by the physical armor she wears now, the weight of it grounding her. Perhaps she is performing a role as Jayden Darling. But at the same time, she can carry herself in such a way where she doesn't need to perform as a man. Because being a woman in this world is an act of performance all on it's own, is it not? The Juliet August known by the people of Amoria isn't the real Juliet August.

Juliet herself isn't entirely sure where she's been. She once thought her dead... though a few rekindled embers have been flickering as of late. No matter. It is an inevitability that some chilling December breeze will return to snuff her out again. It's only a matter of when.

"Prince Jayden? The queen awaits." One of the guards shakes her from her reverie. She raises her chin, staring up at the entranceway with renewed resolve.

Juliet bites her lip. Up to this moment, she has given her entrance zero thought whatsoever. Her lips fall out from between her teeth, forming into a smirk, and she decides to race inside the arena like a bat out of hell. (She wants it to be over with... so that is precisely what she will do.) Instead of riding at a slow trot like the other princes, waving and dazzling the audience with winning smiles whilst fancying themselves masterpieces that must be admired for as dreadfully long as possible, Lavender Haze rides at a sprint around the perimeter, eliciting a few gasps and drawing invigorated interest from the crowd. (They must have been tiring of all the ceremonial nonsense, too.) Briefly she slows before the queen and princess to show respect, nodding at them. Rather than dismounting as instructed, however, she rides into the lineup of other princes.

"Prince Jayden..." Prince Llewellyn whispers through the corner of his mouth, gazing reluctantly around at the bewildered stares from the crowd and royals alike. "Have you forgotten to make your introduction? I understand this can be a rather nerve wracking affair, but..."

"The princess and I have already been acquainted. I need not introduce myself again." Juliet tilts her head at him before gazing up at the balcony. She waves at Princess Elise in a wide, wildly friendly way-- not at all in the way one might expect from a prince. Nonetheless, the princess graces her with the first smile of the day upon seeing this, waving back, and Juliet suddenly possesses the envy of all of the princes again. "Your ways are very strange indeed. In Wonderland, we typically require only one introduction to make someone's acquaintance. The one that is made upon meeting someone for the very first time. This affair is rather... tedious, is it not?"

"You needn't humor the Wonderlandian prince, Llewellyn. He is clueless." Prince Bain scoffs from the row behind them.

"He made the princess smile." Prince Evren offers before he can stop himself. He scratches his cheek, his voice softening. Unlike the rest of the men, he doesn't seem to be even slightly jealous-- only thoughtful. "Glad we got to see it once. She's got a nice smile."

A few of the princes murmur their agreement of Prince Evren's observation, most of them still sounding rather bitter about it. Prince Bain glares at him... although it is much like witnessing a small dog's attempt to bark at a larger, more ferocious dog. Prince Evren merely squints back at him, confused, and that's all it takes to make the other prince shrink back and avert his gaze with a huff.

Juliet overhears some unkind gossip whispered about Prince Evren in the aftermath. They speculate that a man like him would never make such a small and docile princess smile, given his ferocious appearance. While she sympathizes with the man, she simultaneously admires the way he holds his head high as if none of it touches him. As much as she would like to fire insults back, she must be unbothered as well. Now is not the time to cause (yet another) scene. She does not want such an incident to hurt Prince Evren's reputation, either, should rumors spin from him being the primary topic of conversation. She's still inclined to believe he may be a good ally to have among the princes.

Having recently witnessed Princess Elise transform into something right monstrous in the Midnight Mountains, Juliet is tempted to laugh at how ill informed these princes are. She is not nearly so fragile as these men seem to think... nor is she close to being that shallow. Prince Evren is precisely the sort of man she would try to befriend-- the same way she sought out Juliet, despite her unladylike tendencies when they were children.

"...Children, all of you." King Cayman hisses with his gravelly voice from the back of the lineup. The deep vibration of it sends tremors down Juliet's spine. She grips the reins tighter, gritting her teeth. (She cannot believe she dared to trip him the night before.) "The queen is giving a speech."

The queen is indeed giving a speech. Juliet couldn't care less. She lists off all the numerous ways she expects them to conduct themselves with honor, chivalry and strength. Laying out everything she expects for her daughter and simultaneously putting herself on a pedestal for caring enough to organize this entire tournament 'for her sake' and the sake of her kingdom. It's infuriating. Flynn Everson is all of the things that Queen Viviane is asking for... only lacking a kingdom or a title. Princess Elise stares at the floor throughout the entirety of her mother's speech.

Musicians play their instruments, closing out Queen Viviane's speech, and the princes are led back out of the arena to cheers from the crowd. Squires and guards rush out to begin preparations for the first joust. Upon exiting the arena, many princes are met with their squires, who are all in a hurry to polish their armor anew before the joust. (She can only imagine the threats they've been subjected to while serving their princes... the state of King Cayman's squire is especially disconcerting.) In contrast, Juliet makes her way over to Willow at a relaxed gait, climbing down from her horse and taking the time to give him an affectionate rub on the nose.

"Lavie's really fast." Juliet commends the horse with a smile. "Shall we find him something to eat? I want to make sure he's prepared for the joust." Then she lowers her voice, glimpsing the other princes and squires around them with curious eyes. "How did the preparations go? If there are any more tasks that need doing, I don't mind offering assistance while we wait."

 

[starboob]

Willow is still smiling to herself over Juliet’s very Juliet entrance when the archer finds her back at their station, leaning the last of the lances against a stand to dry. “Stunning entrance, my lord prince.” It is weird referring to Juliet by titles and she gets the sense that she might not be entirely used to the role herself, what with her offering to help in true Juliet fashion. Though they probably could get away with a different approach to their dynamic as prince and squire, heat has been on them since last night. Bain and Alric have been keeping an annoyingly close watch on them. Even now, the prince is stealing glances their way, as if they are the suss ones.

“No need for that. I think it’d be best if you rested for your match later.” Willow flicks her eyes over to Bain, wordlessly indicating her concern. “But I did spy some Amorian squires hauling in some hay, along with some barrels of apples and carrots.” She ties Lavender Haze (Lavie) to one of the posts, then leads Juliet through the tent. Along the way, she quietly nudges Juliet’s attention whenever she spies one of the teams using magical powders or potions. Like when they pass by Prince Ivory’s station, one of his squires is cleaning off an apple with a rag, changing the apple’s color from red to green. It’s almost missable as it quickly goes into the horse’s mouth. Willow only catches it because of her sensitivity to magic. “We ought to be careful what we feed Lavie. He’s already pilfered two sugarcubes right from my palm! A wily one, he is.”

With the help of a few other squires—Willow staunchly refuses Juliet’s help—they haul a bushel of hay over to their station and only when they’re back at their station does she allow Juliet to help feed Lavie. It seems appropriate that the princes bond with their steeds. Devlin is even taking some part in grooming his horse, brushing off any dust from the introductions. (Though, he might also be checking on the enchantments.)

Once Lavie has been fed, the Wonderlandian duo have nothing more to do than twiddle their thumbs until Jayden’s match. Well, and figure out how to make sure these matches are as fair as possible. Not that every prince is cheating—she reckons only about half are. And, shockingly enough, Cayman nor his squire seem to be trying anything this round. Though maybe it’s not so shocking. Cayman is about seven feet tall and his competitor for the first round is built like a starved mouse, unfortunately. Still, Willow doesn’t let herself get too comfortable, knowing that Cayman is an expert caster himself and might far surpass others in discretion. (Even if she caught him, she's not sure what she would do. This is King Cayman, after all, and while his reputation is new to her, his presence chills her to the bone and flares her flight response.)

The marshall comes in to inform the princes that the jousts will be starting in approximately fifteen minutes and the first pair should be ready in ten. This sends the princes into another flurry. Some of them are starting to get green in the face. One outright hurls on his squire. Rapidly, the tent devolves into a mess of shouting and scrambling, giving the Wonderlandians the perfect excuse to wander.

As they walk through the chaos, Willow discreetly pulls a bottle of moon water from her pouch and leads them over to the water barrels. She grabs a bucket and places it under one of the spigots. “Am I clear?” She whispers to Juliet. Once she’s been given the greenlight, she opens the spigot then unscrews the dropper cap from the bottle. Sucking in a deep breath, she glyphs the contents of the stopper into the barrel. Before tucking away the bottle, she adds a single drop to their bucket before she shuts off the spigot, causing the water to adopt a faint glow that eventually subsides.

They gather their bucket and carefully walk back to their station. Next to their station, Magnus is preparing Prince Maximillion for the opening round, peppering him with barf worthy compliments. “Your beard is most fantastic, my lord prince. No need to fret, you are the most beautiful of all the competition.”

“Aye, right you are.” Maximillion nods, smiling into the reflection of the shield Magnus is holding up for him. “Like attracts like and how ever could her esteemed majesty deny another blessed with heartbreakingly good looks? Not to mention my charm.”

“The most charming. You ought to be Prince Charming himself!”

Willow exchanges a Get A Load Of This Guy glance with Juliet as she sets down the bucket. Magnus and Maximillion continue this style of banter until it’s time for the prince to queue up. (Willow wonders how Bain clocked her affection for Juliet so quickly when Magnus and Maximillion act like that.) Once they’re away, she holds up the bucket to Juliet. “Purified water is the best cleanser.”

Their next challenge is making sure that every competitor and their steed gets a splash of water, since she cannot guarantee that everyone will drink the batch she fixed. Posing as Wonderlandians does give them license to just spritz everyone with water, but it seems too risky. Too easy for fingers to be pointed at them if someone were to make a connection.

What they do instead is quite simple. Willow trips in front of the queueing area, bucket of water in hand, and lets it spill all over the area that every single horse will trot over. The Amorian squires do cover the area in hay, but the magic should still work the same. They still might miss some enchantments on any armor the princes are wearing or anything they have ingested, but it’s a start.

Once the matches begin, Willow and Juliet take to watching, keeping an eye out for anything that seems suss.

The first match goes to Prince Maximillion who loudly proclaims this victory for the queen, grinning up at her while he does his celebratory lap around the perimeter. He catches one of the roses thrown his way and boldly tosses up into the balcony. Queen Viviane pointedly does not catch it, nor does she squash it or kick it back towards him. She simply leaves it. Princess Elise hides behind her fan again, then whispers something to Lavinia. (Her status with the princess must allow her into the royal box as the rest of her family sits with the other nobles of Amoria.)

As they watch the following matches, Juliet notes anything she thinks might be off and Willow subtly throws glyphs into the arena to counter the enchantments. During Prince Bain’s match, for example, Juliet notes his lazy lance positioning despite the fact that he unseats his opponent in the first set. So Willow casts a glyph that nullifies the homing effect on his lance, costing him the second set. Willow does not get to see his look of surprise or rage underneath his helmet, but he does fly back onto his horse rather haughtily and prepares for the final set. This time he’s forced to show his actual skill and it’s clear he possesses it, as he deftly takes aim and unseats his opponent, securing his spot in the rest of the tournament.

Prince Devlin DeSkies follows his fellow sky prince and Bain appears to whisper something to him at the queueing area, though it’s hard to tell with their helmets on. All Willow knows is that as Bain exits, he spends a minute or so beside Devlin before he continues to his station.

Devlin makes a stunning entrance into the arena. Whereas before he impressed the audience (and attempted to impress Elise) with a song, he tries a different approach this time. A more Jayden approach, notably, as he has his horse stampede into the arena. Halfway through his lap, he flies off of his horse, spreading his cotton candy wings wide (dazzling many of the women) before he lands back on his horse, this time riding her like a surfboard. It’s impressive to everyone except, perhaps, the woman he is trying to woo. Elise remains still as a statue, her expression giving away nothing.

If the prince is frustrated, it cannot be seen beneath the helmet’s visor. He simply settles onto his horse and gets into position. Unlike Bain, Devlin does not rely on the enchantments. From the start, he gives his honest effort and, after just two sets, it's over. When Devlin is announced the victor, he is the first prince to bow to his opponent and thank him for the match. And, once again, this does more for the crowd than it does the princess.

With Devlin’s match finished, a quarter of the princes have been eliminated. Some have already stormed out of Amoria in a fit, but others linger behind. And with it being the halfway marker for the day’s events, everyone is given a short recess to purchase concessions and stretch.

Willow and Juliet head back inside the tent and, on their way back to their station, Willow congratulates Prince Grinnell on his victory. He blinks like he doesn’t know why she’s talking to him. Asher throws an apologetic glance her way before he’s ordered to fetch the prince some food and drink.

As they settle at their seats, surveying the others—many of the cheaters appear confused and are whispering amongst themselves—Willow turns to Juliet. “What did you think of the contenders? Are you still feeling okay about your match later?”

 

[ellarose]

"Yes, I'm okay." Juliet had said, the very picture of confidence. Now that she's on her way back to the arena for her turn she's not so sure that's true anymore. An unsettling mist of nerves blurs the sharpness of the bustling squires running all around her, muffling every noise. Hooves and footsteps and buckets of water hit the ground with a peculiar faded echo. She grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. Cross for catching yet another flicker of weakness within herself. Why is this happening now? There's no cause for her to doubt her abilities or experience. She's charged countless Lightless and monsters alike, besting all of them. It's the reason she still lives and breathes. She can do this. She knows she can do this.

But Juliet has been told over and over again that she's out of her damned mind. She still hears the ghosts of all the people who told her that she cannot do this. (Can she even trust herself? What if she is sick? What if, what if, what if.) Worst of all, she can recall making it to this exact spot when she'd tried to sneak into her first tournament at eleven years old. Being caught by thick arms she couldn't struggle against, shoved to the ground and told it wasn't her place to participate. They laughed and told her they were protecting her. Protecting her from a world designed for big, strong men... and yet not a single one of those big, strong men could protect her from the monsters out in the real world beyond these walls. She had to do that herself.

Distracted, Juliet stumbles as she tries to mount Lavie, startling herself out of her reverie. Seeing this, the princes seated nearby titter and whisper behind their hands like a flock of ladies on the lawn.

Breathe, Juliet. The fact that she still breathes is evidence of everything she has ever done to protect herself, to fight, to endure. She must have done something right to make it this far. She can do this. Now if only her resolve would stop fluctuating. Something in her is always reaching for the past like a sodding child for her mother. Whenever she believes herself steeled she softens again. It's infuriating. Why can't she bury her heart and be done with it?

"I did not see Lady Juliet in the crowd, did you? I had hoped she might witness my victory today... but alas." "No, I did not see her myself. I wonder if something has happened. An unforeseen Lightless transformation, perhaps?" "Well, she is known as a challenging one to please. I bet she will only show an interest in the final matches. These beginning rounds must seem like child's play to the heroine." A couple of the men scoff. "I must ask. Who is the fair maiden seated beside the princess up in the balcony?" "Ah, Lady Lavinia! She is most agreeable indeed." "I heard she has sisters." This is followed by low whistles and excited, cringe-inducing noises. "As do I, gentlemen. I could make arrangements to introduce you if you perform admirably enough in the next..."

...Okay. That's enough of that. Juliet traces the braid in Lavie's mane, rolling her eyes. Already, these men are organizing the women in their lives as though they're pieces in a game with no say of their own. She's determined to flip the board over, send all those pieces flying like birds freed from a cage.

And she's equally as determined to knock these princes off their high horses. It's time.

The crowd's cheering has notably grown less and less enthusiastic as the matches continue on one after the next. (Especially after King Cayman's joust, which left a stiff air of unease that no one has been able to rectify since. No one felt inclined to applaud such an awful man for his success... but one glare from the notorious king had them all whooping and hollering out of fear that he might take his outrage out on them.) Now, with this being the last match, everyone is eager to eat a nice warm meal for dinner and return to their accommodations for the evening so they can sleep and then rise to spectate the next batch of jousts. And given there are no Wonderlandians present in the audience to watch Prince Jayden with a sense of homeland solidarity or loyalty, that makes the crowd's waning enthusiasm even more evident as Juliet rides into the arena.

Juliet has Willow in the crowd, though. And Willow's smile has a way of lighting up the whole arena. (It's probably the setting sun, casting golden rays into the arena through the arched windows. It naturally paints everything with a reflective surface. Including her eyes...) 'I have no doubt you would have smoked the competition. That’s probably why you weren’t allowed to join. But you can count on being included in games here from here on out.' The sorceress cheers for her the same way she did during the baseball game in Evermore, standing apart from the rest of them all. Juliet offers her a nod, throws a peace sign... and then her first joust begins.

She can do this.

***​

And she does. With a sense of ease, Juliet managed to win her match against Prince Llewellyn within three sets. Now she'll be allowed to proceed on to the next day's round of jousts. (It was announced shortly thereafter that she will be competing against Prince Grinnel tommorrow.) Nevertheless, her first tournament joust came to her so naturally that she has to wonder why she built it up so high in her head to begin with. When the matches conclude for the day, she and Willow are able to retire to their room for some much-needed rest.

...Not for long, though. When they realize that Juliet and Willow as the heroines have been invited to dine with the other ladies, they inform a palace guard as Prince Jayden and Sir Declan that they've gone out to search for some 'fiddlesniggs' and may not be back until late. (Considering no one knows what a 'fiddlesnigg' is, no one will have any idea where to find them if they were to try and seek them out based on that information alone.) That way, they're able to reassume their own identities without relying on their doubles. Juliet two will not be making a reappearance anytime soon.

"Lavinia was in the balcony. She'll undoubtedly be present tonight." Juliet fusses as she braids Willow's hair in preparation for dinner. "I ought to come up with a reason for my absence today. I... am not so certain I wish to say I took ill anymore. Because..." Although she considered that before... she does not like the insinuations that could be made as a result. If Lavinia spreads such information around, she may frame it as a relapse. Mother and Queen Viviane's words are still nipping at her. "I just don't think it would be wise."

Furrowing her brow, Juliet considers the princes and their gossip, considers Lavinia and her gossip... "I suppose I could say I was present but made myself sparse. Perhaps she was too busy mooning over the princes to notice?" She bites her lip. "Did your double overhear any speculation from them?"

 

[starboob]

In solidarity with Juliet, Willow wears a dress and it’s awful. She hates it. Folkorian dresses, or at least Amorian ones, are insufferable torture devices. It's not even like Juliet had tied her corset that tight and she can still feel it pressing against her ribs each time she breathes. ‘No wonder Lavinia is like that.’

The one saving grace is that Juliet is distracting her from the suffering. Her fingers comb through her hair and Willow’s eyes flutter close, relaxing into the archer’s deft touch. Lucky also purrs in her lap, making this the most relaxed she’s been in a while. She does wish they could just hide away in their room and rest. Like, the thought of having to interact with all the court ladies after spending all day with the princes almost causes her to physically recoil. She can already feel the embryo headache beginning to form. (Or maybe that’s just her lingering hangover from last night…)

While Juliet works on her braids, Willow sifts through her double’s memories of today, searching through the interactions with Lavinia specifically. (Maybe this is the cause of her headache. It’s not often that she absorbs all that her doubles go through in a day. All her experiences with them thus far have been clinical, after all. She’s had little reason to use them in practice. And the slow realization that she has managed to successfully use them in practice sends a swell of pride through her heart, but one she hasn’t fully processed.) She blinks one eye closed as she concentrates, her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. “Uhhh… She did ask my double about your whereabouts and she told Lavinia that you were being covert in the stands, watching for any suspicious activity.” Her cheeks color. “I-I guess we should have talked about that beforehand. Sorry.” Thankfully, it seems Lavinia was more fixated on the princes—specifically Prince Bain (barf)—and didn’t press her double beyond her initial inquiry. Actually, Lavinia seemed rather pleased that she would not have to interact with Juliet, but Willow doesn’t mention this. Even if it would be expected behavior, there’s no point in telling her.

Once Juliet finishes up with Willow’s braids, they switch places and Willow gets started on a half-up rope braid look that she’s been brainstorming for the last fifteen minutes. “You don’t think they’re going to make us drink, right?” She’s scarred from last night, even if she cannot reasonably picture the ladies of the court forcing them into drinking games. Either way, she makes a solemn promise with herself to not imbibe. “If we get a moment alone with Princess Elise, do you think it’d be safe to pass along Flynn’s letter?”

Though it's unlikely they'll get that moment with Elise tonight, they bring the letter anyway and hide it in Willow's corset to give her a bit more room to breathe. She does hope they can deliver it soon, as the princess has not smiled since Prince Maximillion’s foolishness and Juliet’s entrance. Her eyes seem so dead. (So much like Dorothea.)

Dinner takes place in a smaller dining hall, though it’s no less lavish than the rest of the palace. Ornate murals cover the walls and ceiling, each one accented with gold. (At sunset, Willow imagines that the whole room shimmers. However, with the only light currently coming from the chandeliers, the sparkle is much less effective.) Like the rest of the palace and Amoria, flowers drape across every surface that now bear Prince Devlin’s soft blue color. (Even if it was Prince Jayden who earned the princess’s one and only smile. Willow and Juliet both share a glance about this.)

The heroines are the first to arrive, though they are not alone for long as the rest of the ladies follow soon after. The butler welcomes them all in and takes them to their assigned places at the long table—all except for Princess Elise and Lady Lavinia, who arrive last and take their seats side by side. Lavinia is positively glowing, which is a stark contrast to the princess who looks as hollow eyed as Dorothea, even if her lips pull into the faintest smile. Lavinia’s expression does noticeably sour when Elise turns to greet Juliet and Willow, who sit on her other side, like she’s only just realizing the heroines were extended invitations.

The palace staff aren’t even serving refreshments and the ladies are already spilling the tea. “Have you heard?” The woman across from Willow leans in, gripping the table as she turns her head to address the entire group. “Prince Llewellyn is going to stay in Amoria for the duration of the tournament—supposedly so his sisters might find a husband, but I hear he still has his eye on finding a wife here as well.” Several of the women giggle over the prospect, whispering excitement to each other and naming other princes who they hope do the same. Princess Elise is noticeably disengaged with the conversation, staring deeply into her glass of water until one of the ladies addresses her directly.

“No offense, princess, but I do hope Prince Devlin gets knocked from the tournament. He’s just so handsome.” Princess Elise does not look the least bit impressed with this topic of conversation, though she doesn’t say anything to change the subject. She doesn't say anything at all, in fact. She remains quiet on the subject, only lifting her brow in acknowledgement. From the far end of the table, another group laments over some of the day's victories. “Dreadful news about Prince Evren.”

"Quite indeed. He is just so unsightly."

“Well, it should be no wonder. I hear his mother had an affair with a beast and it’s why he looks so monstrous.” Through all of this, no one dares to speak King Cayman’s name and Willow gets the sense all their lambasting is because they are not brave enough to speak about the king, so they attack the prince instead. In some ways, she understands and in others, she thinks it’s petty and entirely undeserved. Prince Evren was the only prince to congratulate Prince Jayden on his victory and his squire, Bazel, even commended his technique. Thus far, he is her favorite prince—well, aside from Jayden of course.

“I will reserve my judgments for after I have properly met the man.” Princess Elise cuts in for the first time, shutting down the conversation almost immediately. The ladies all seem to quiet when the princess speaks, nodding their heads in absent agreement. Though a few mutter that they are only trying to look out for Elise and her kindheart. She acknowledges them with a polite nod, then smooths out her napkin before her next admission. “I will say, though we have not corresponded in years, Prince Jayden stands out thus far."

This elicits some surprised whispers from the group and one of the women, one who isn't nearly as opposed to this idea as the others, asks, “Is it true he challenged King Cayman at the welcome banquet?”

“That is not my interpretation.” Princess Elise briefly glances over to Juliet and Willow, recalling the night prior. "He is bold, but I do not believe he was challenging the king so much as he was standing up to the man."

“I cannot say I see his appeal, princess.” Lavinia’s eyes cut over to Juliet with a smirk. “He’s got that awful red hair.” Willow openly rolls her eyes while the table erupts into giggles. Princess Elise frowns at the comment, but Lavinia pretends to not notice. “On a more serious note, he is awfully strange and over-familiar. Are you not worried of his character?”

“Well, he was a friend when we wrote as children so I see not why he shouldn’t be friendly.” Elise shrugs. “He is the only of the competition who has been consistent with what he seeks from this tournament.”

“But what of Prince Devlin?” The woman on the other side of Lavinia asks. “Now he has written two songs for you.”

“If he can prove he wrote them, then I shall be impressed.” Interestingly, her words come out forcefully, perhaps more than she intends. Though it doesn’t stop her from continuing. She even eyes the portrait of one of her ancestors at the back of the hall. “Who is to say he did not hire a better poet to guide his hand?”

“Well, so long as your eyes are not on Prince Bain.” Lavinia sighs, switching topics to discuss the other sky prince. “He is the real prince of dreams and far more darling. He is who I have my eye on should he not persist.” The other women chime in with their agreement, joking about how to capture Bain’s attention and on and on. Willow’s brain is melting out of her ears listening to all of this drivel. Though the other ladies are happy to continue chatting, ignoring the heroines for the most part. That is until one lady leans over the table to look at Juliet with a cruel smile. “Have any of the princes caught your eye, Lady Juliet? I hear you are to be married off to one so you can quit this silly heroine nonsense.”

 

[ellarose]

"No. I would prefer my eyes remain staunchly in their sockets." Juliet responds, her voice faint and faraway. She's disengaged herself for everyone's benefit, distancing herself from the temptation to set the hall ablaze with her vexation. However, she must remind herself not to lean too much towards the Wonderlandian nonsense she's begun implementing as Prince Jayden. Should she take it much too far, the ladies may recognize similarities between herself and the prince beyond their 'horrible red hair'. The ladies titter and exchange covert glances that are blatantly obvious, sharing in their delight over how peculiar they think she is.

...It is a rather surreal experience, to hear them speaking about her without knowing of it. When there was speculation in regards to Prince Jayden's intentions with King Cayman, Juliet considers how she hadn't truly been thinking in the moment. It was adrenaline. She merely wished to be infuriating, a thorn in the man's side, and had no grand motives. Naturally, as a man, it is assumed that Prince Jayden has complex motives. Meanwhile, her role as a heroine is reduced to 'silly nonsense'.

"You've always fancied yourself above us all, haven't you Lady Juliet?" The lady, Fairleigh, sighs as if to say that Juliet is a lost cause. "When you grow old and lonely, you'll wish you had spent your youthful years wisely."

It's a maddening and laughable statement coming from one of the very women who looked down on her upon her arrival in Amoria. Juliet's hand forms a fist, her knuckles itching with the desire to become acquainted with the woman's face. Her nose in particular.

"Healing those afflicted with the sickness comes before my marriage prospects." Juliet flattens her tone as well as her hand, reminding herself to breathe. Mirroring Princess Elise, her gaze flickers to one of the portraits on the wall. Watching. Listening. She must address this calmly. She must... "If you are interested in marriage then I wish you all the best in your endeavors." Good. That was good. "...I should hope that none of your prospective matches become afflicted with the sickness. Lady Fairleigh, has it ever once occurred to you what would happen should I suddenly disappear and cease to act as the kingdoms heroine?"

A stretch of silence follows and Juliet wonders whether or not she said too much. But she can see that her words are sinking in, a few of the ladies malicious smiles fading as they consider the implications of what she's just said, the reality of what it might mean for them and their futures as the Lightless cases spread among nobles and even kings themselves.

"That... that is quite simple. One of the princes would surely take your place." Fairleigh stubbornly attempts to continue her argument. Half of the women quietly chime in to encourage the idea that some mysterious, heroic man will conveniently show up to save them all... but the other half appear doubtful and frightened. Among them, Lavinia appears especially conflicted.

"Then why have none of them stepped in to help me yet? Thus far, only Willow has lent me her assistance in this endeavor." Juliet challenges, gesturing to sorceress at her side. (Millie, too. Though she knows better than to mention the witch of the wood. Confirming the 'conspires with witches' rumors that continue to circulate will not serve her well.) "Queen Viviane requested our presence to keep you all safe. In Willow's case, she has traveled incredibly far from home. So for her sake as well as mine, I would like to ask that you refrain from making a mockery of our work."

"Why, I never--" Lady Fairleigh attempts to continue on with her nonsense.

"Lady Juliet is correct. The heroines are present to keep us safe and for that we owe them our gratitude." Princess Elise raises a hand to stop her. "They healed my Uncle Zander in Okeanos. And yet you would be so bold as to call their endeavors nonsensical?"

"...You misunderstand. That is not what I meant to say, princess." Fairleigh stares down at her silverware, stewing in annoyance she chooses not to speak now that she's been lectured by the princess herself. Servers bring in bread baskets and trays of delicious smelling food, effectively tapering out the conversation altogether. While Juliet knows she could continue to challenge the woman, she considers it victory enough that they've gotten her to stop talking and instead redirects her focus on paying her meal all the attention it deserves. (She certainly worked up an appetite after her joust.) The only thing she does not touch are the tiny trees. The evening has only just begun, after all... and Lavinia is sitting within range.

"I must say, I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance Willow James. I've heard much about you from Elise." One of Elise's younger cousins, Olive, eventually breaks the silence. She's all wide-eyed enthusiasm, leaning forward to get a better look at Willow. "I can scarcely believe that I am dining at the same table as an Other Sider. There is so much I wish to learn about your home! We've already heard 'totally mcgoatly' from Lady Lavinia, but are there any other Evermorian phrases you might be able to teach us?"

 

[starboob]

Food. Willow had not realized how starved she had been until the palace staff uncovered the silver platters piled high with an assortment of delicacies and the sweet and savory smells wafted into her nose. In a rare moment of gluttony, the heroine heaps piles of food onto her plate full well knowing her eyes might be bigger than her stomach. But after the day she has had, she really does need to recharge and refuel. Especially as it dawns on her that this will be her life for the duration of the tournament. ‘This is not the best of both worlds. I’m so sleepy.’

The food is also a nice distraction from those jabs earlier. When Juliet’s hand had rolled into a fist she nearly reached over to grab it. Not to stop her from doing anything—Lady Fairleigh was being insufferable—but as a way to show her support. That she’s here and she’ll back her, but the archer collected herself before she could. It was probably for the best. Bain’s comments from the night before are still needling her. (And it’s not that she’s ashamed of how she feels. She just remembers Z’s reaction to Elise’s confession that she had a crush on some mystery girl once upon a time and isn’t sure what the norms are in Folklore, let alone Amoria. She doesn’t want to make Juliet more of a pariah than she already is.)

That aside, her heart is still glowing over what Juliet said about her efforts, like she really does appreciate the sorceress’s help. Like she might not actually see her as dead weight. She doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it does make her think that Juliet might already know and accept the sorceress as an ally. (And hopefully more.)

She sighs happily over that memory, taking a large bite of smashed potaters and roast pig. Her cheeks are stuffed and she only comes to regret this when Olive breaks the silence and puts a spotlight on her. ‘Oh duck.’ Several of the ladies curl their lips over her manners. Even in Evermore this would be unacceptable and her cheeks color knowing her grandmas didn’t raise her like this. She nods, hurriedly chewing and swallowing her food, making an absolute fool of herself (official diagnosis), in an attempt to recover.

Except then she realizes that Olive is asking about Evermore phrases and the one she cited is… not an Evermore phrase. ‘Duck.’ Buying herself some more time, she washed down her food with some water, and wipes the corners of her mouth. “Oh… Evermorian phrases are, um…” Should she tell them? She totally should. But will she? Even Willow doesn’t have the answer to that question. “Howdy doo is another.” Allegedly. According to Milfred. (She’s panicking hardcore right now.) “It’s a greeting.”

Several of the ladies mouth the words, testing them out. A few even turn to their neighbor and try out the phrase.

Willow mentally screams at herself for making these noblewomen sound like complete fools. ‘Wait. This… I have so much power right now.’ She could actually have some harmless fun with this. She could make these noblewomen sound like nerds if she really wanted and she might want to. ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ And she is about to be so irresponsible. Drumming the tips of her fingers against the table, she mulls over some other phrases she uses as well as some that are only used by particular groups of people. “If you’d like to hear one of our capital insults, one of the worst you can use is scruffy looking nerf-herder.” Technically, a princess did use that one.

Again, the ladies mouth the words and test them out. Willow shoots them an encouraging grin, nodding her head like they’re actually getting the hang of it.

“And what might one say if they are annoyed and not looking to insult?” Olive asks.

“Hmm…” She contemplates over this one for a while as guilt pools in her stomach, remembering that those like Olive and Elise are going to be victims of her hijinks. It is harmless, to be fair, and still she doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep up this minor villainy. “You could say that you’re, ‘cheesed off.’" That was a favorite among the camp counselors. "Or, if you want to be more aggressive, you could tell someone who is irritating you to, ‘step off.’”

“Step off…” Lavinia muses under her breath.

“Perhaps you should have tried that one on that ballistic man in the market square, Lady Juliet.” One of the ladies offers, quickly hiding herself behind her glass to avoid Princess Elise’s incredulous look. However, it’s Lavinia who actually steps in.

“I am not sure that would have worked, Lady Geneiva.” Lavinia sniffs, barely making eye contact with anyone. “He was raving mad.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot you were there, Lady Lavinia.” Lady Verona adds, her lips twisting into a wicked little grin. “What exactly were you doing in the market? Shall we tell our brothers the Laurences can no longer afford servants?”

The entire table quiets as the two ladies stare each other down. Not one even dares to laugh at the barb. Lady Verona doesn’t balk, she holds firm. Willow sits back in her seat, hoping it will manifest her ability to turn invisible. (It doesn’t.) Lavinia’s brow arches in warning, giving the woman another chance to back down. She doesn’t take it. Lavinia clears her throat and smooths her napkin over her lap. “How bold of you to speak of finances, Lady Verona,” she starts in a measured tone. Then she goes for the throat. “How is Lord Finlay? Wasting your dowry on lesser women?”

Lady Verona’s cheeks lose their color though Willow isn’t sure why. If Lavinia and Kinsley are parallel twins, as she suspects, then Verona should have known that scorpions sting when fighting back. Even so, that doesn’t stop Lady Geneiva from pushing the subject.

“That does not answer Lady Verona’s question. And I think we should all like to know just what you were doing.” Others around the table timidly agree. “You know you can trust us, Lady Lavinia. Right?” The question comes off as a challenge, everyone at the table knowing how just untrue that is and yet no one would ever outright doubt it.

Princess Elise once more rises to defend her friend, but Willow cuts in first. “Step off. Everyone knows the baker’s wife is the best pastry decorator in Amoria.” Why Willow chooses to defend Lavinia is beyond her. Though it might have something to do with the fact that Lavinia had been so cagey that day and she still wants to know what she was up to, gathering all those medical supplies conveniently after Gerard Stanley escaped the Lightless facility, injuring a hooded maiden. Getting into her good graces might not be so bad if it’ll help loosen her lips. (And they always have that lip chap Madam Mosley gifted them.) “Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do—that’s another Evermore saying.”

That, thankfully, is enough to get the women to back off. Though mostly because Willow mentions Evermore and they’re all reminded of her background and the topic beforehand. Another one of the ladies leans forward to ask Willow about the current fashion trends and whether or not it is common for women to wear pants, as the rumors tell. They are all scandalized to learn that pants are the norm for just about anyone and when she mentions short pants to them, they are in complete disbelief.

“But—But—” Lady Geneiva stutters. “How can the men even control themselves?”

“Well, they are adults.” Willow points out. “They can control themselves. If not, my best friend says a fist can usually put a stop to any unwanted advances, if aimed well enough.”

“Ah, so I am sure Juliet gets along just fine over there,” Lavinia quips.

But before that can escalate, Princess Elise turns to her friend. “What was your favorite experience in Evermore? And do not merely give me a log of everything you ate." She grins teasingly. "I want to hear of what you did and what you saw. Oh, make it so like I am right there!"

 

[ellarose]

"...It was the summer season when I arrived." Juliet begins, watching warily as Princess Elise leans in as if to better hear her. If she wishes to hear a vivid enough story that she feels as though she is there herself, she should have asked Willow for a story. Willow is the best storyteller. Now, what should she speak about? There was plenty of delicious food... (Not yet.) She glances over at Willow, as if to confirm that what she's said thus far is the truth. "The season was consistent throughout my stay. The air was warm... often hot. And yes, I wore the short pants." Cue the scandalized gasps. The sound of them lends a mischievous sparkle to the archer's brown eyes. A faint rosy color rises to Princess Elise's cheeks as she considers it. "They were delightful. It did not feel as if I was sweating in the depths of hell as I often do in my gowns. There was no need for fans or frilly parasols."

"You are shameless as ever, Lady Juliet." Lavinia sniffs, spearing a tiny tree with her fork. She chews with her mouth closed, swallows, and continues. "No need for jumping in the lake fully clothed either, I take it?"

"Ellie, is it true that you jumped into the lake that day as well?" Olive pipes up, reaching for her older cousin's hand. "That party must have been a riot."

"Indeed she did. The princess gave us all quite a shock. Oh, it was dreadfully hot that day. I was miserable in my silks and did so envy those of you who jumped into the lake." Lady Primrose admits, reflecting on that day with a far off look in her eye. Many of the other ladies present begin to reminisce, speaking quietly amongst themselves to share their own accounts of that day. Some are gleeful with how irresponsible they were and others click their tongues in disapproval over how improper it all was.

"The queen was holding a garden party on an unprecedentedly hot day." Lady Olive addresses Willow to keep her informed. "Lady Juliet gave everyone quite the shock by suddenly running into the lake! Seeing that, the princess and a few of the other ladies proceeded to dive in after her." She purses her lips into as ladylike a pout as she can manage. "And I was just a baby at the time, cooped up in the nursery while all of this transpired. Lady Lenora and I often speak about how we wish we had been present for the occasion."

"My dearest younger sister does not know of what she speaks. It was simply disastrous." Lavinia shakes her head, cutting her eyes across the table at Juliet as if to imply that many parties were disasters after she turned up. "Never in my life have I witnessed so many proper young ladies behaving like children. Lucinda and I were aghast."

"We were children, Lady Lavinia. And I think I recall Lady Lucinda laughing." Princess Elise argues, smiling fondly as she thinks back on that day. "It was great fun jumping into the lake that day. My mother was indeed cross with me for partaking, but it is a memory I will carry with me always." Sensing that this conversation could take a turn in an unfavorable direction if left unchecked, she takes hold of the conversation by changing the subject. "Did you do any swimming in Evermore, Lady Juliet?"

"Not exactly." Juliet says after a moment of thought. Technically they traveled through Mirror Lake to return to Folklore... but that is not necessarily a topic she wishes to divulge at the dinner table. Especially not while they are being watched by the portraits. She also recalls how the lakes in Evermore bled, the fact that the ocean disappeared. While it might be fun to see the ladies scrunch their haughty little noses or furrow their brows in confusion, she finds she's already treading over dangerous ground with the queen. She is also not certain whether these conversation topics might bring discomfort for Willow. "We were far too busy facing the various mechanical beasts to swim."

"Mechanical beasts? Why... what are those?" Lady Olive asks for elaboration, her eyes wide as saucers.

Juliet proceeds to explain how she faced a screaming bright red beast in the road upon her arrival (fire truck), the beasts that sing songs and offer food or tiny goods if they are fed coins (diner jukeboxes and vending machines), the dessert-shaped beast that sings a haunting lullaby and lures innocent children to it (ice cream truck), and of course-- the beasts they rode at the faire. She gives hazy and therefore terrifying account of her first experiences with 'roller-coaster time' and the giant hell-wheel. The ladies exchange frightened glances with each description she gives. If they ever fancied themselves taking a visit to Evermore someday, they seem to be reconsidering now. Some even request that Juliet stop speaking of the ghastly mechanical beasts lest they start to appear in their nightmares. After that, she does give an account of the various wonderful Evermore foods she experienced, along with a significantly less detailed description of the boardwalk and the shopping mall. She also notes the shops selling trousers with holes in them.

"...And you did not alert the seamstress of this?" Lavinia asks, horrified.

"There was no need. Holes are fashionable in Evermore." Juliet insists with a sage nod. "They are 'edgy'." That is how Kinsley described the style, anyway. Once more, the ladies gasp.

"Edgy." Lavinia repeats dubiously. She warily flicks her gaze over to Willow, perhaps recalling their donut and soap conversation from before. "Is she telling tales, Willow? All of this sounds quite made up."

 

[starboob]

“Yeah, she’s telling the truth.” Willow nods, answering Lavinia’s question without turning her gaze away from Juliet. A slight smile lays over her lips as she watches the archer recount their adventures on the other side, entirely amused. While Juliet’s interpretation is an exaggeration of all the dangers and horrors that rest in Evermore, it is a Folklorian’s interpretation of Evermore. In that, Juliet’s account is accurate as she imagines the ladies sitting along this table would be equally terrified of all the “mechanical beasts'' in Evermore. Though, to be honest, Willow had not fully realized that Juliet was so suspicious of all the technology on her side. It makes sense, in hindsight, but in the moment she held herself well—especially on the roller coasters Willow is only now regretting dragging her on. (Although, to be fair, getting stuck on top of the ferris wheel was not exactly fun. Especially when everyone else was fleeing the fair in a panic.)

The talks of home tug at her heart, thinking of her loved ones and wondering if they’re still safe. She has no doubt that Sawyer is already watching over them all with her invasive methods of knowing too much. She would alert her, but Willow still wishes she could be back home.

At the same time, she doesn’t want to leave Juliet to the vipers of Amoria and she won’t. She’s committed to staying for the duration of the tournament as she promised. Given the choice, she’d stick wiith her beyond this, but she has a duty to Elsewhere. To Evermore. Her side needs their heroine too. It’s bittersweet knowing they’ll go their separate ways after the tournament, but there’s some peace knowing she’ll still be working with Juliet from her side.

Already she's starting to miss her and their little talks—

“Willow?” Princess Elise asks, waving her hand in front of the sorceress’s face to break her trance. “Is everything alright?”

Willow blinks, looking this way and that, coming to the slow horror that everyone’s eyes are on her. “Ahh, sorry. Yes, I’m alright,” she insists. “All this talk of Evermore just had me thinking about my loved ones. I miss them, that's all.”

“Would you like a change of subject?” Lady Olive asks, her big green eyes full of concern. “Our curiosities are not above your comfort.” Some of the others at the table nod in agreement, the rest remaining neutral.

“No, it’s alright—I like thinking of them. It reminds me why I even sought out Folklore in the first place." She nods. "Anyway, what were you saying before I zoned out?” The blank stares around the table quickly remind Willow that her company needs some translation. “Before I… lost focus?”

“We were wondering how you Evermorians survive in such a hostile, beast filled environment.” Lady Lavinia supplies.

“Ah, well…” Willow proceeds to explain that the mechanical beasts are helpful technological advancements or part of their modern entertainment. Through it all, she is careful to validate Juliet’s perspective as someone who is from Folklore and experiencing something unlike anything she could have possibly imagined. Putting herself out there, she explains how startled she was to learn that the wood comes to life in Folkore or that the plant life in general can be so hostile. “Honestly, if a giant screaming horseless carriage came speeding towards you all, I am sure you would have run.” Not that Juliet ran away from the thing she registered as dangerous. Like a real hero, she tried to take it down. Then she got yelled at by that crotchety old man for her efforts, like a hero often does. “Evermore is not a dangerous and harrowing place, but it would scare just about anyone who’s never experienced anything like it before.”

“I wish I could go to Evermore,” Lady Olive sighs, staring forlornly into the distance.

Some of the other ladies agree, others insist they are content with their lives in Folklore, and the conversation moves on. Willow, thankful the spotlight is off of herself, breathes a sigh of relief and continues to pick at her meal while the ladies go back to discussing the tournament, the princes, and the dresses they plan to wear to the tournament balls. Princess Elise remains quiet throughout most of this, only offering her opinion on the dresses her companions might wear, whether she thinks the color or shape will suit them. She enthusiasm for the upcoming balls is notably lukewarm, but the ladies all seem wise enough not to press her or try to bolster her excitement.

This works in Lavinia's favor, at least, as she gets to be the loudest about her excitement and her hopes that the balls will give her an opportunity to introduce herself to Prince Bain. As she gushes over the prince and fantasizes about how she will capture his attention, Willow starts to wonder what Lavinia will think when she discovers that Bain has set his sights on Juliet. At least, for the time being. Perhaps there is the opportunity to drive his attention towards a woman who is actually interested in him? Maybe not. Something tells her that Lavinia wanting him so badly will drive Bain away. He's a Creep, capital C.

At a certain point, Willow, like Elise and Juliet, loses interest in the conversation and stares at her half-eaten dessert (some sort of whipped cream and fruit dish). Unfortunately, the torture doesn’t end at dessert, much to Willow’s dismay. Cups of hot tea and coffee are served after dinner and the ladies move into a sitting room, breaking into smaller groups to continue their idle chatter. It’s not that Willow is entirely against chitchat, she’s just so tired from this specific form of chitchat and she wants to sleep.

Olive must sense this as she sidles up next to Willow a moment later and asks her more questions about Evermore and what prophecy predicted her becoming a champion of love. Willow has to inform her that she chose the role on her own and that there were no fates involved. This somehow leads into a conversation about the social roles of women in Evermore where she explains the greater amount of freedom women have. This draws the attention of a few more ladies until Willow has an entire flock surrounding her.

Well, until Lavinia comes over and decides that the conversation is “unfit for proper ladies of Folklore.” Honestly, Willow is thankful as a bulk of the women leave her circle and, soon, the evening is deemed over. Finally.

There wasn’t, unfortunately, a time to speak with Elise alone with too many of the ladies flocking her at any given time. Lavinia in particular would not leave her side and Willow is starting to wonder whether Lavinia's presence is more than just playing the role of a close friend. If it serves a similar purpose as Queen Viviane's request for Juliet to behave herself.

"Do you think it's possible Lavinia is in cahoots with the queen?" she asks as she fusses with the corset (i.e., weakly paws at the strings). Eventually, with Lucky's intervention, the corset is loosened and she flops face first onto the mattress without taking the rest of the dress off. She will, she's certain of it, but she just needs to lie down for a few years first to decompress. (And then maybe several more to cope with whatever is to come tomorrow.) "Or is that all... just Lavinia being Lavinia?"

 

[ellarose]

"...No. I don't think so." Juliet answers after a while. She stands behind the fancy dressing screen, peeling off her evening dress and sliding into a fresh nightdress. The feeling of the lighter fabric has her breathing a quiet sigh of relief. Having now shed all of her disguises for the day, she can sleep. At long last. Her muscles ache and yearn for bed and already, she dreads the steps she must take to get there. Smoothing her hands over her nightgown, she thinks about her oversized fox shirt and the soft pajamas she saw on display in the Evermore stores. Millicent's voice cuts through her mind. 'Why not leave it all behind?'Briefly, she glances at the gown she laid over the chair.

She will never forget the moment she was gifted her first proper dress. Angelica washed her up, took on the tedious task of brushing her hair until it was silky and free of knots, and then helped her into the dress. Juliet simply stared at herself in the mirror afterwards, hardly recognizing her own reflection... for once seeming like a somebody instead of an unwanted nobody. It had taken the August family quite some time to convince Juliet that they hadn't brought her in as a servant of the house but a lady. Mother used to delight in bringing home new treats for her to try for the first time, smiling whenever she surprised her. Though she wished for Lara often and the dresses could be stuffy... it wasn't horrible. She had warmth, shelter, food, protection. Knowing what it is to be without those things, she was unspeakably thankful for the place she was given. To such an extent that she'd often feel unworthy. But things changed when she reached her teenage years, when she was constantly under pressure to prepare for marriage and a husband. Blech.

The Augusts have done much for her. The words she said to mother a few days ago echo in her mind, each one a knife through her heart. Regret pulls her in one direction while vindication pulls her harder in another. No. Juliet will not falter. She is grown and will not sign her life away to a man who treats her as one does a dog on a leash. Nor one like Prince Bain, who views her as a beast to be tamed. Little does he know that she is the one who tames the beasts in this world.

Ah, what were they talking about again? ...Lavinia. Lavinia, yes. That's right. Juliet blinks heavily and shields a yawn behind her hand as she steps out from behind the dressing screen, making her way over to the bed. She flops down beside Willow.

"Lavinia would not be able to keep such a secret to herself." Juliet explains her reasoning as her eyes drift closed. "Were she handpicked by the queen herself for such a task, I should think she would make it rather obvious. She would delight in holding it above everyone's heads." She pauses contemplatively. "Perhaps I am not giving her enough credit. But I do not think it likely. The queen seems quite content with her magicked flowers and portraits."

Juliet idly traces her index finger over the swirly pattern on the comforter, thinking of everything she's done within the last couple of hours. She presses her hand flat beside her head, closing her eyes again. She, Juliet August, participated in a tournament for the very first time.

"I knocked a prince off his horse today." Juliet murmurs. She's on the edge of drifting off, wearing a sleepy little smile. "I look forward to doing it again tomorrow."

***​

And that's precisely what Juliet does the next day. In fact, she is able to do so twice. It's unfortunate, though, that she does not get to face Prince Bain as her opponent in either one of her matches. Especially given that her desire to unhorse the man grows each and every time he opens his mouth. The gentlemanly charm he puts on for the women in the stands is nowhere to be found when he scrutinizes their appearances behind their backs with his mates. Among their crew, only Prince Devlin attempts to intervene on behalf of the ladies from time to time. Whenever he does so, he eyes the roses... almost as if he knows. The third time he does this, he catches Juliet staring and promptly smiles, inviting her to come over and join them. Juliet uses some kind of Wonderlandian nonsense logic to squirm her way out of that one, instead joining Prince Evren in his corner. While she's there, he introduces her to his sweet rabbit companion who is soft, a bit shy, and reminds her of Gracie.

The second day consists of twelve matches total. The victors of the first eight matches will then go on to compete in the next four. On the third day there will be only three jousts-- one of which decides the overall victor of the joust. (Three is indeed quite a small number of jousts for just one day... it has to do with some old Folklorian superstition involving the number three.) A ball shall also be held that evening. According to the princes and their gossip, the victor of the joust will have the first dance with the princess.

The first eight matches are reminiscent of the day before. Juliet and Willow keep an eye on the princes and take note of those who appear to be cheating. Willow is often able to slip off and set things right as needed. Most of what the sorceress does in this regard still goes over the archer's head-- but she trusts she's fully capable of handling it. Juliet helping with the magic could be toasty toasty, so she offers to fetch materials or provide distractions as needed instead. Naturally those pompous asses who set out to cheat (Prince Bain) manage to succeed regardless.

The most memorable match is likely the one that transpired between King Cayman and Prince Maximillion. Try as he might, the prince was unable to best the cruel and brutal king... and upon his defeat, he reached his arms out towards Queen Viviane in the balcony, begging her to avenge him. He fell to his knees, inconsolable. The guards had to drag him out of the arena. 'He's just hungry, your highness.' His squire announced, as if that might explain everything.

When the next four pairs are announced, there's considerably less to watch out for where cheaters are concerned... specifically in the case of Prince Bain, who is to face Prince Devlin in his second joust of the day. Given what close friends the two men are, it seems they're willing to settle this fairly. Or, perhaps, they decided in advance who between them would prevail. They put up a good, entertaining fight... in theory. But to Juliet's discerning eye, their movements look quite rehearsed. She whispers this to Willow as they watch, wondering if she sees it as well. Prince Devlin takes the match and Prince Bain does not seem particularly surprised or upset by the result.

Juliet, meanwhile, is able to win her match against Prince Ginnell without all too much trouble. Prince Evren has a particularly grueling joust against King Cayman. Many people in the stands grimace or shield their children's eyes throughout. Nothing was broken aside from lances and there was no bloodshed... it had more to do with the nature of the men competing than anything else. (No one swoons or cheers the way they did when it was Prince Devlin and Prince Bain taking to the arena.) Eventually, Prince Evren comes out as the victor. While the people seem relieved by this outcome, they don't dare to cheer all too loud lest they provoke the king's wrath. While he's done nothing yet, the glare he casts into the crowd upon his exit sends a chill through everyone. As if he's promising that it's only a matter of time.

The second day ends the same as the first, with Juliet flopped face-down on the mattress. Exhausted. Thankfully, there's no special dinner to be had with the ladies. No need to go out drinking with the other princes. And given they'll have the finals and a ball tomorrow, she's thankful to have a night in with Willow and Lucky. "Did you see or hear anything strange today?" She rubs her eyes. "Tomorrow's a big day. We should be prepared for anything."

 

[starboob]

Tonight, Willow changes into her pajamas before flopping onto the bed, since she ended up falling asleep in her dress last night. (Thankfully, not before getting to soak in Juliet’s sunshine smile. Ugh, that smile.) She’s struggling to stay awake. Her eyelids are weighted with lead and though she hears Juliet’s question, all her thoughts are molasses and the effort it takes to speak is almost strength she doesn’t have. But for Juliet, she tries to recall all the mental notes she took. “Prince Grinnell is mad,” she mumbles, recalling how furious he was after his match with Juliet. Poor Asher got an earful from the prince, accusing him of conspiring with “the enemy.” After that Remy passed along a note from Asher, scrawled out in a rush, informing Willow that they ought to not hang out any longer. “Not allowed to hang with his squire anymore. So sad. I like the monkey.”

She dozes for a few seconds before she comes back up. “I saw Prince Llewellyn and Prince Ivory whispering to each other after his matches.” She’s pretty sure she saw Llewellyn blushing over something Ivory said, but she can’t be too certain and she won’t contribute to the rumor mill. “I think they’re in cahoots.” At least in some form. “Prince Devlin…” Her breathing slows for a moment as she dozes once more. “Prince Devlin is already talking about his first dance with Elise. Seems so assured.” Of all the princes, this is hardly surprising. He hadn’t said anything untoward about the dance, just that he looked forward to acquainting himself with “my future queen, should I be so fortunate to have the favor of the fates.” But something about it felt off. Rehearsed. Polished. They’ve both noted how there’s something going on between the two sky princes and this comment really got to Willow. So she sent her little mouse friend (who is masquerading as Declan’s companion) to spy on the prince for the remainder of the day. “Then I got word he’s… He’s fixing the arena tomorrow. Trying to face Ivory.”

That’s the last of what Willow is able to get out before she’s fully submerged in the land of dreams.

***​

The next day’s round of jousts are similar to the previous two days except that the semi-final rounds will have five sets and the final round will have seven. Court jesters have also been hired to entertain the crowd between matches and as a way to bring the tournament into the early evening. The four princes and their squires are given this information at their morning debrief with the marshal. “I expect fair matches today, gentlemen. I know you all are desperate for your chance to meet our princess, but cheating shall not be tolerated.” Willow almost laughs when the marshal makes that declaration, knowing how flagrant cheating has been and how she’s been solely responsible for thwarting the cheaters.

Once they’re dismissed, Willow and Juliet part ways. The squires head off to make their preparations while the princes are left to their own devices. With only so many princes left in the jousting tournament, the Amorian squires distribute themselves more evenly to assist the princes’ squires. The preparations pass faster compared to the first day as a result. So much so that the teams are ready before the arena is prepared. And Willow, recalling what her mouse friend reported back to her last night, volunteers to help. Axton, Evren’s squire, joins her and it’s not long before Falco and Bastion tag along, likely wanting to make sure the other squires aren't tampering with the field. Falco seems particularly suspicious of Willow whereas Bastion just seems bored.

As she has done throughout the tournament, Willow works enchantments into her task. In this case, while her and Axton rake the dirt, she traces spells with the wrong end of her rake, easily able to pass this off as Wonderlandian nonsense. It’s not long before she’s taken off rake duty, but not before she finishes creating a perimeter around the arena meant to break performance enhancing and tampering type enchantments. Heh.

Delightedly, she skips back into the tent where the princes wait beside their horses and ready for the day’s opening ceremony. And once they’ve ridden around the arena, waved to the crowd, collected their applause, the tournament begins.

Prince Devlin and Prince Evren are the first up in the semi-finals. The crowd goes wild for Devlin as he takes his place. The flower garlands around the arena brighten with his signature soft blue, showing his obvious favor. Though Evren is not without fans either and a peppering of roses shows off his fiery orange. Bookies holler to take bets and despite the fact that the crowd favors Devlin, more put their money on Evren, banking on his superior size, strength, and the fact that he defeated King Cayman.

It only takes three sets for Evren to come out the victor, much to Devlin’s obvious shock. He glances towards the balcony, almost looking apologetic. Strangely, he doesn’t seem to be apologizing to the princess but to Queen Viviane. The queen remains impassive as ever, neither acknowledging the possible apology or displaying her own possible shock over the match. She simply applauds the victor as she is meant to.

When the court jesters come out to spoof the match—making Devlin look like a mere child and overplaying Evren’s shocking looks—Willow heads back into the tent. Graceful as Devlin had been in the arena—shaking hands with Evren and encouraging the audience to cheer for the victor—she can feel him simmering from across the tent. He doesn’t explode or throw a tantrum like some of the other princes have following their losses, but Falco avoids being too near him. Bain is the only one who dares to approach Devlin and they exchange heated whispers, neither of them understanding how this loss could have happened.

Juliet’s match against Prince Ivory follows a half hour later. The garlands around the arena are an even-ish mixture of green and white roses with there being a slight tilt favoring Ivory. Their match takes all five sets and Willow cringes the one time that Juliet is unseated from her horse. It takes all her strength to stay rooted in place when she so desperately wants to rush into the arena and insist the archer back out of the tournament. But Juliet rises and manages to unseat Ivory twice thereafter, securing her place in the finals.

The second the archer is back inside of the tent, the sorceress is all over her, checking her for signs of a concussion and other injuries. Her chest plate reveals a baseball sized dent where Ivory’s lance had connected. (Similarly worried, Llewellyn comes into the tent to check on Ivory, but Willow misses this with all her attention so focused on Juliet.) It takes multiple reassurances from Juliet before Willow settles down and accepts that she can handle this. She's already survived the wood and has the scars to show for it.

Following the court jesters' spoof of Prince Jayden vs. Prince Ivory, there is another break to accommodate a late lunch. It’s quite natural when Jayden, Evren, and their squires dine together at the same table. Conversation between them is minimal, but there is an air of camaraderie around them; perhaps because they’ve both been cast as pariah princes. (Especially now as glares come their way from King Cayman and the two sky princes.) As they finish their meals, Prince Evren wishes Juliet luck and Willow has no reason to doubt his sincerity.

When the two princes re-enter the arena, their reception is far more lukewarm than one would expect for the finale. Most of the applause goes to Jayden, with Willow being her most vocal fan, but it’s nothing like the shrieks and screams Devlin and Bain have been able to garner.

However, that all changes when the match starts, both princes leaving everything they have in the arena. It’s a fierce joust between them, one that leaves everyone with bated breath and cheering louder and louder as the seven sets progress. The first round, in a shock, goes to Jayden. The next three to Evren. (Willow has to stifle her gasps, tightly balling her hands to fists as she watches. Even Elise cannot keep her mask when Juliet flies off of Lavie.) Juliet, seeming to focus her strategy on lance breaks, takes the next two sets, leaving them tied. The last round has the entire audience quiet. The air is still. No one even so much as blinks, not wanting to miss a single detail of this final round.

The marshal waves his flag and the two princes gallop towards each other, filling the arena with thunder. With a sickening clang, Juliet is hit square in the chest and sent clean off her horse for the fourth time. At that point, Willow can’t stop herself from hopping the fence and racing towards her prince as she lies motionless in the dirt. The dent left in her armor is concerning and she can hear the archer struggling for breath beneath her helmet, but neither of them dare to lift the visor. “Hey, hey. I’m right here for you, J,” she coos, trying to reorient Juliet while she comes back to her senses. Evren is quick to dismount his horse and races over to his fallen opponent. He and Willow both help Juliet back to her feet, Evren apologizing profusely, having not meant to hit her so squarely or with such force. Willow doesn’t even doubt that the prince is being genuine. His concern is plain in his dark eyes.

Once Juliet is up again, Prince Evren is announced as the victor of the joust and is greeted with a healthy applause from the audience. The garlands ignite like wildfires of fiery orange, signaling to all across Amoria who has won the jousts. As part of his victory, it is formally announced that he will get the first dance with Princess Elise at the evening’s ball. He bows towards the balcony and Elise tosses him a sparkly pink rose, curtsies, and graces him with a polite smile.

Immediately, whispers rip through the audience, conspiracies about Amoria’s soft princess and her hidden terror; how her cordial display is only a means to not be crushed by Evren later. Despite this, Evren holds his head high like all these rumors, rumors that have probably plagued him since his birth, have no effect. They seem to roll off his boulder-sized shoulders. He acts as though nothing is being said and simply hands his rose to his nephew, then helps Juliet back into the tent.

Willow’s fussing is even worse than before—so much so, she almost slips and asks Juliet who the governor of Elsewhere is before she remembers that they’re in Folklore. A team of healers also flock around Jayden—among them is Madam Mosley. She does a double take of Juliet, but aside from that she treats Jayden as she would any of the other princes, not at all indicating that she knows. Once she has finished her check-up, she hands him a piece of chocolate and smiles at both of them in her warm, caring way. "You'll feel better with some chocolate in you. Be safe, lord prince. And you, Sir Carter, make sure he gets plenty of rest tonight. That is the best medicine, just ask the pixies."

They're escorted back to their chambers a half hour after the jousts have wrapped, giving them plenty of time to prepare for the evening's ball. After the door is shut, Willow turns on her heel and finally approaches Juliet, closing the distance between them. She pushes some of Juliet’s short red waves from her face, then her hands slide down her arms until she's grasping her hands. “You’re sure you’re okay to attend the ball?” Her fake brown eyes meet Juliet’s fake green ones. “Those hits looked so nasty. I-I know it’s a good opportunity to scope out intel, maybe get a moment with Elise, but nothing is more important than your well being. We can invent an excuse.”

 

[ellarose]

When Willow closes the distance between them with that troubled look on her face, Juliet is fully prepared to insist she is fine for the hundredth time that day. It has become familiar to her. If she closed her eyes, she could visualize the way that very same expression would appear on Willow's face as Willow. Each time she sees it, Juliet wishes to ask why she must stare at her like that. Like, perhaps, she actually-- actually cares about-- no, stop. Don't be ridiculous. This is Willow James, who is considerate and selfless. Of course she cares. However, the sorceress cares for Juliet in the same way that she cares for everyone else in her life. It'd be foolish for her to assume that Willow believes she's special, or sees her any differently than she sees others. Besides, that... that is not the nature of their partnership. Even with the thread hanging between them. They've both acknowledged that even the fates can be flawed.

And must Juliet again remind herself of the kiss Willow bestowed upon Sawyer? She intends to court someone else! Better to ignore that senseless fluttering in her chest. It's only ever gotten her into trouble. Juliet's words are utterly forgotten, her breath catching in her throat as Willow's fingers sweep through her hair, down her arms and to her hands. Shockwaves of electricity roll over her skin where her fingers have been, raising the hair on her arms. The fluttering in her chest morphs into a frantic pounding, her ears and cheeks burning red as the autumn leaves outside. She's entirely too vulnerable when the sorceress insists that nothing is more important than her well being. Curses. Why must her heart betray her this way? Either it's a fool, never learning it's damned lesson... or perhaps it simply delights in conspiring her downfall. No matter how hard she tries, she can scarcely control the unruly thing.

This moment only appears special to Juliet because she is so starved for affection. It is... pathetic. Maddening. The thought that just a few encouraging words and touches could turn the steel of her heart into a soft, malleable ball of clay.

"Prince Jayden has an excuse." Juliet finally manages to speak, gently pulling her hands away from Willow's. (That she immediately misses the warmth of them is of no relevance whatsoever.) She pulls the hair tie from her wrist, allowing her disguise to melt away. "Juliet does not. And should I fail to attend, the ladies and lords will come to their own conclusions about me. The princes already suspected a flame between me and Prince Jayden the other night." She rolls her eyes. Which is especially ridiculous, considering she and Jayden are the same person. While that statement was no more than a little seed... if they nurture that seed with water, it'll surely grow into a problem. "Moreover, that infuriating Prince Bain has noted my absence in the crowd more than once. It I make myself too scarce, it'll draw undue attention to us... and no manner of excuse will appease them."

And if Juliet says she's taken ill, the speculation and rumors could also... she does not care what they think of her. Truly, she doesn't. But she knows firsthand how such stories can ruin a person. Her supposed 'illness' had completely robbed her of her freedom before. They will not take it from her again.

"It's all right, Willow. It will take more than a silly ball to do me in." Juliet assures. Then, only seconds later, she's grimacing while attempting to remove her armor. Raising her arms even slightly serves to agitate her bruised ribs. It takes fifteen minutes of stubborn struggling in silence before the archer is able to admit that she requires Willow's help getting dressed for the evening.

Naturally, this entails Willow's hands on her yet again... this time whilst more of Juliet's skin is on display. The sorceress's touch is just as gentle and maddening now as it was before-- if not more so. At least Juliet faces the wall this time around, hiding her blush whilst Willow begins the tedious process of tying the back of her corset. She often needs reassurance on whether or not it's too tight or if it hurts at all-- and whenever Juliet flinches even slightly, Willow flinches back in sympathy. It's in her nature to care. That's all it is.

***​

The music swells. Juliet and Willow (as Declan Carter) arrive to the ball fashionably late. (They are indeed late on account of fashion.) Willow agrees with her assessment, seeing as no one has taken to the dance floor yet. Instead, they're mingling and enjoying refreshments as they await Princess Elise and Prince Evren's promised first dance. It isn't long before Juliet notices Prince Bain's attention locked upon her across the ballroom. (Fuck.) When their eyes meet, he promptly excuses himself from his conversation with none other than Lavinia Laurence (oh, even better) and strides towards her, primping his feathers before sweeping into a princely bow. He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. It takes everything in Juliet to refrain from punching him in the face.

"Lady Juliet. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last." Prince Bain flashes his smile at her. Juliet can see ladies nearby, waving their fans and whispering to each other behind them. Lavinia is seething. "Might I request your first dance of the evening?"

"Prince... Vain, was it?" Juliet draws her hand back, examining it cooly. (Thank goodness she chose to wear her gloves tonight.) "I'm afraid I haven't any dance card tonight. I am here strictly on business, as I am sure you can understand." She sifts her gaze around the ballroom, seeking for a place to take refuge. "I must remain vigilant should something unprecedented happen."

"Is that so?" Prince Bain follows her gaze, observing the other attendees with amusement glimmering in his eyes. It seems he's choosing to ignore her jab at his name. (He's already made it known that he enjoys a chase. Ugh.) At present, the atmosphere in the ballroom is quaint and uneventful. There's nothing that urgently requires a heroine's watchful eye. "Surely you could afford me one dance. Where is your Evermorian companion?"

"I am not certain at the moment." Juliet curls her fingers into a light fist, struggling to think of the most polite way she can tell him to fuck off without telling him explicitly to fuck off. As much as she wishes she could. (Either way, Willow's whereabouts are none of his business.) The prince then pivots his attention to Willow. Or rather to Declan Carter.

"Ah, Sir Carter. I did not see you there. Congratulations on Wonderland's victories. Is Prince Jayden faring well after his fall? Prince Evren truly is a beast of a man. I should hope that he does not crush the fair princess when they dance." Prince Bain smiles conspiratorially, as if they're in on a joke. (His mouth is tight at the edges, however, no doubt as he recalls their night at the tavern.) "Might I offer you a word of advice?" He nods at Lavinia, who is holding her fan in her left hand and holding it just-so over her face. "I believe Lady Lavinia is signaling that she wishes for a dance. Perhaps you should go and ask her?"

 

[starboob]

Willow swallows hard. She doesn’t dare find Lavinia across the ballroom and pointedly avoids a wide radius around her. Lavinia is ticked. She hasn’t stopped glaring daggers at Juliet since Prince Bain kissed her knuckles. As hilarious as it might be for a squire to ask a noblewoman to a dance, Lavinia Laurence is the last noble she would like to tease. Willow knows the ending to that movie. (If she concentrates hard enough, she can still hear Kinsley’s whip-sharp tone cutting through the entire auditorium as she called some kid from the AV club a, "walking cockroach infestation.") She shudders to think what Lavinia Laurence might do. If hearts can choke, hers certainly is.

“Ah, that is quite alright.” Willow clears her throat, chuckling (nervously) as she meets Bain’s bruise colored eyes. He holds his tight smile, lifting a brow in silent question. “I do not think it would be proper for someone like myself to ask such of a woman of her pedigree.”

“Are you not here to represent Prince Jayden?” Bain tilts his head, feigning confusion. “On behalf of your prince, you have every right to any of these women. Lady Lavinia would be of perfect for Prince Jayden.” When Willow struggles to come up with another excuse, the prince smiles wryly. “You cannot keep him all to yourself, Sir Carter. That would be improper.”

Her cheeks burn hot as her boiling blood. Every part of Willow screams at her to do something, anything, to get this guy to back off. But she is Willow James (as Declan Carter) and cannot punch the face of every deserving person she comes across. Her hand would break. More importantly, she’d place a larger target on her back than is already there for whatever William Jameson did; not to mention her prince’s performance in the joust. She swallows everything that she wants to say to this beef turd and settles her temper. “I am not so sure that—”

“Oh, quit grasping for an excuse!” Prince Bain waves his hand flippantly, even going so far as to start pushing Willow towards Lavinia. “This is not Wonderland, Sir Carter. There is no mad queen here to cut off your head. It would be rude of you not to ask Lady Lavinia for a dance on behalf of Prince Jayden. She is the princess’s best friend, so I am told. If you truly wish to help Jayden rekindle his friendship with Princess Elise, I suggest to work through those in her inner circle.” He conveniently disregards the fact that Lady Juliet is also part of that circle and that Willow (as Declan Carter) arrived at the ball with her. With another sturdy shove, Prince Bain successfully shakes the squire. “Be off! Do your prince a service.”

“What an odd one,” Prince Bain muses once the squire is finally out of earshot. He watches the other man make his way across the ballroom, timidly weaving his scrawny body through the crowd. As tempting as it would be to watch the squire’s humiliation, the sky prince returns his attention to Lady Juliet. “Now, about that dance? I am persistent, I must warn you.” His tone is light, charming even, and it’s also clear he will only accept one answer. “Surely one dance will not hurt.” His eyes skirt over Juliet’s covered arms, like he knows what’s underneath those gloves. “Not like those monsters you so often face. And should something arise, Lady Juliet? Is it not comforting to know you will be with Aira’s best hero? I would be honored to stand in your Evermorian’s place.”

Meanwhile, Willow is now steps away from Lavinia Laurence and her gaggle of women. By the time it occurs to her that she should just turn around and find a less torturous way to occupy her time, she’s already locked eyes with the woman, caught like a fly in a spider’s web. ‘Duck.’

Though Willow is the same height as Lavinia in this form, the noblewoman still manages to look down on her. She closes her fan with a flourish and dips into a curtsy. To Lavinia’s infinite credit she doesn’t flinch when her curtsy is met with the Wonderlandian reverse bow. And with a mere a look, the other ladies disperse and give the two some privacy. “Sir Carter, is it? I suppose congratulations are in order. Prince Jayden’s performance today was admirable. A shame he is too injured to attend, I presume?”

“That is correct, Lady Lavinia.” Willow nods. “I am here to represent him. Prince Bain seems to be under the impression you would be interested in a dance with his stand-in?”

“Oh, is he now?” Lavinia’s eyes flick over Willow’s shoulder, keeping tabs on the prince and Juliet both. Her eyebrow twitches. “How thoughtful. I suppose Prince Jayden did place second in the joust and Prince Bain only came in, what? Sixth?” She hums thoughtfully as she considers this, like this might be a play in some sort of game. After a moment of deliberation, she holds out her wrist and, at first, Willow doesn’t understand what she’s supposed to do until she notices the card hanging from her wrist. It takes another second for Willow to realize she’s supposed to add her (Declan’s) name to the list. (And it seems Lavinia has already been approached by a few other men already.) As Willow takes the card, noting that she hasn’t secured a dance with Bain, Lavinia continues. “Did the prince mention me at all when he approached you?”

“He spoke of your pedigree,” Willow shrugs, handing the card back to Lavinia. When she catches a flicker of disappointment in her eye, Willow’s shoulders drop. (Ugh, how well she knows that feeling.) “You don—”

“Do not take Prince Bain’s disinterest personally, Lady Lavinia.” None other than Prince Devlin interrupts, striding up to the pair as if he were invited over. “You are not the first breathtaking woman whose interest he has ignored.”

“Do go on. Explain.”

Prince Devlin chuckles over Lavinia’s frustration, but when she glares, he relents. “He has some protective sisters. As the only son, it is paramount for him to choose the right woman for his wife.”

“Is that so?”

“Your looks wound, Lady Lavinia!" He drapes his hand over his chest, pretending to stumble backwards from an unseen attack. "Take no offense. Your reputation as a fine jewel precedes you, my dear lady. Bain just does not approach any woman that his sisters have not already appraised. If you wish for his attention, I can introduce you to his youngest. She’s the true mastermind of that family.”

Feeling this conversation no longer requires her presence, Willow starts to teeter away from the two nobles when she catches King Cayman glaring at her from the corner. A cold chill crashes over her and she's frozen. It's like he's staring into her soul. With every ounce of willpower she has, she blinks and turns back to Devlin, thankful she has a distraction.

“I, on the other hand, have no such interference in my romantic life...” Devlin takes Lavinia’s hand and kisses her knuckles, causing her cheeks to flood. (Lavinia’s dispersed flock gasp from behind their fans, watching from their new corner of the room.) “And I would be a fool to not ask for just one dance? Would you make me a lucky man, Lady Lavinia?”

Barf.

 

[ellarose]

"Why, I..." Lavinia begins, fanning herself in a way that indicates she's flattered. And she is, truly. Although her cheeks are a rosy pink and she delights in the way her friends turn a contrasting green with envy, she cannot help but cast her attention across the ballroom to see if Prince Bain is watching her now. To see if he is now green with envy over this development as well. If he is perhaps disappointed to find that his silly cat and mouse games have all but ruined his chances of having a first dance with her. But he is not watching her. In fact, Prince Bain stands with his back to her now, looking down with his beautiful eyes at Juliet. Juliet, who looks as though she could not care less about the very thing that Lavinia wants the most. Damn her. It's always Juliet, the perpetual thorn in her side. Lavinia's heart cracks like a mirror thrown at the wall in frustration. It's never enough. Her smile dims a few shades as the realization sinks in that this moment will go unseen. But Prince Devlin is Prince Bain's very best friend-- and he has kindly made her the envy of the ballroom. As a lady, she must answer him with grace. "I must admit, I am quite overcome with your attention. I would be--"

"Devsy-wevsy! There you are. Thought you could sneak away from me, did you?" A petite young lady seems to appear from nowhere, interrupting Lavinia before she can accept the prince's invitation. The bouncing ringlets of her white-gold hair might as well have been spun from the heavens themselves, her sharp eyes are a perplexing bellflower violet. (Dare Lavinia admit that they are more striking than Prince Bain's?) The newcomer sidles up next to the prince, grinning like a cat as she latches onto his arm with friendly familiarity. Whatever undeniable charm she possesses is immediately ruined by her unladylike display. Despite this, Lavinia finds herself straightening up and squaring her jaw as the woman casts her gaze up and down over her. Judging. Calculating. "Oh my. Are you asking her to dance?"

Lavinia does not at all like the way she says 'her', as if she were the last person she would choose herself. (...Not that a lady can choose another lady at royal ball. That's preposterous!) Moreover, it's rude. Has she not already suffered enough embarrassment for one evening? The woman looks at the prince as if asking Lavinia to dance is a charitable act and not the honor that it is. She is Lady Lavinia Laurence!

"Indeed I was." Prince Devlin responds, matching the woman's familiarity. His tone is just slightly less friendly at the unforeseen interruption, the leveled spacing between his words indicates that he is begging the other woman to be on her best behavior. "Forgive her for the interruption, Lady Lavinia. This is..."

"Princess Celeste of Aira." The woman smoothly steals her own introduction from the prince, her soft white wings fanning out with the elegance of a swan as she curtseys and offers a hand to Lavinia. Ah. One of Prince Bain's sisters. Presumably the youngest, if Lavinia were to wager a guess. The 'mastermind'. (This sort of audacity can only belong to the youngest of a family. Lavinia knows from years of failed attempts to keep Lenora in line.) "It is a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine." Lavinia curtseys just as gracefully, as is polite. She already hates Princess Celeste of Aira. She hates the power she will hold over her if she knows of her affections for her brother, the dynamic they will have. (She is already considering ways in which she can show she will not be so easily toyed with.) She takes the princess's hand in her own and then... sparks fly.

Both women stare for a moment longer than necessary as to their eyes and theirs alone, a single thread of red appears between them. No...

No. This is not possible! Lavinia snaps her hand back, averting her gaze. That was... her imagination. A fluke. Or the fates are as mad as those Wonderlandians! No wonder the royals have stopped listening to their guidance. Princess Celeste tilts her head to the side, staring for a while longer before she smirks at her. (Is she mad? Why is she smirking!?)

"I was just telling Prince Devlin that I would be delighted... to have his second dance of the evening." Lavinia pivots. She cannot dance with Prince Devlin like this... nor does she wish to appear as desperate as Princess Celeste seems to think she is. (The princess raises a brow at her words, almost as if she is impressed. Lavinia's heart flutters. No, it does not flutter. It squirms. With, uh, with disgust. Yes, disgust!) She offers the prince her dance card and then tips her head towards Declan Carter. "My first is already spoken for. Sir Declan intends to dance with me on behalf of Prince Jayden Darling."

Perhaps Lavinia herself is mad. But Prince Jayden's victories in the joust makes him a perfectly reasonable choice of suitor. (It is not as if he is her suitor of choice, with that horrid red hair of his. But she must not seem too eager and attainable if she is to win the affections of Prince Bain. She sees that now.) Besides, she would be much less embarrassed if she were to make a misstep in front of Sir Declan Carter... she rather fears she will forget the steps of every dance she knows thanks to this blasphemous turn of events. She does not wish for Prince Devlin to report back to Prince Bain that she is a terrible dancer. They will think she lost her starring role to Juliet all those years ago because she lacks the skill. And that is simply not the case!

"...Of course, Lady Lavinia. I shall eagerly await our dance." Prince Devlin says, tipping himself forward in a gracious bow. He stares hard at Declan Carter, as if seeing him fully for the first time. (Lavinia, so deeply consumed in her own world, completely misses how Prince Devlin and King Cayman are staring so pointedly at them. Or rather at Declan Carter.)

"Come, Sir Declan. I am feeling quite parched." Lavinia grabs the squire's arm tighter than necessary, guiding him towards the refreshment table. She struggles to calm her breathing, vaguely aware that her friends are gawking at her. It is not long before they flock to Prince Devlin themselves, hoping that they might secure the first dance she so foolishly declined. As she does, she notices that Juliet's full attention is now on her. And... she is staring at her as though she finally has something that she wants. Lavinia raises a brow as this piques her interest, glancing between Juliet and Declan with prying eyes. There's something there, that is for certain. Interesting.

"Well, I suppose that makes sense." Lavinia notes aloud, wishing to distract herself with anything at this point. Even if that something is Juliet and her disastrous tendencies. (Anything to keep her mind off of that insufferable Princess Celeste.) She nods towards the drinks, expecting Sir Declan to offer her one. "Lady Juliet will turn her nose up at every prince in the room... it is only natural that she would fancy you instead of Prince Bain." She sighs and shakes her head as Juliet catches her staring back and averts her gaze. "Did you know she was in love with a former palace guard for a time? All while she was engaged to marry a nobleman, no less. It was completely improper! Especially when it was revealed that her 'palace-guard' lover was a woman in disguise. I believe her name was Violet. I do wonder what became of her." Lavinia fans herself a touch harder. (A woman. Like Princess Celeste. Violet, like the color of Princess Celeste's eyes. Princess Celeste, who her thread is--) She narrows her eyes. "And I wonder if Prince Bain is aware. If you informed him, I am sure you could improve your chances with her. You arrived here together, did you not?"

 

[starboob]

Willow can barely keep up with Lady Lavinia as she strangles her arm and yanks her through the ballroom. This is actually a good thing considering how distracted she is. Her mind is still reeling over Lady Lavinia Laurence not only dismissing the advances of Prince Devlin—the envy of everyone’s eye—to honor Sir Declan Carter’s request for a dance, but also completely fumbling in front of Princess Celeste. Princess Celeste who unhesitatingly made her opinion of Lavinia known without even addressing her directly; who suggested that Lavinia might as well have been swine; who Lavinia needs to like her in order to get close to Prince Bain. And Lady Lavinia Laurence balked.

Perhaps the politics of Folklore are different than in Evermore, but Willow has a hard time imagining that something like this could ever happen to Kinsley Prescot. Kinsley Prescot would sooner develop a spontaneous mutation that allows her to vaporize her opponents with a glare than take a step back. But perhaps that is the difference of their realms speaking more than the difference between Kinsley and Lavinia. Kinsley exists in a realm where she has more freedom. Lavinia has a stricter social role to follow. It’s jarring nonetheless and part of Willow cannot wait to tell Juliet later.

And apparently Juliet is…? No. Willow cannot even let herself finish that thought even if her eyes are wide and eager to know more. Lavinia may have used her mouth to say those words and make that suggestion, but Willow James cannot let herself think about it. Yet her attention steals over to her companion, but Juliet has already turned away and now Bain and his stupid fluffy wings are blocking her from view entirely. Ugh. She really should find a way to interrupt them and save Juliet from that brat. And as Lavinia continues to talk, it’s clear she wants the same thing. Except she’s wanting and willing to bring up Juliet’s history as a strategy. That won’t do.

At Lavinia’s third nod towards the drinks, Willow catches on and hurriedly grabs two champagne glasses from the refreshment table, handing one to the noblewoman. While Lavinia takes a ladylike sip, Willow strangles the stem of her glass, unable to take her mind off of Juliet. (Does she really like-like her? Would Lavinia lie about that? What could she gain from that?) Her heart flutters in her chest like a butterfly. ‘No. Don’t you go dusting off your highest hopes, WJ.’

“Indeed, we did arrive together,” Willow confirms, clearing her throat and returning her full attention to Lavinia. (Lavinia is still too far off in her own world to note Declan Carter’s momentary hesitation, thank the gods.) “But only because Lady Juliet caught me clinging to one of the many moving staircases this palace has to offer. An incredible defense system,” she muses after reciting the cover story she and Juliet came up with. Lavinia seems to consider this story, though she isn’t ultimately convinced. It’s convenient, but Lavinia Laurence knows Juliet August and knows what she saw.

“I don’t think that would play as you expect for two reasons, Lady Lavinia.” Regardless of what Lavinia Laurence thinks of her relationship with Juliet—a relationship that only exists on the professional level (unfortunately)—Willow refuses to let Juliet be a target of another one of the noblewoman’s attacks. “The first is that Prince Bain enjoys a challenge. A salacious rumor like that will only encourage his pursuit.” True as this is, it makes her want to vomit. A man who believes he has been crafted from the sunshine of the gods, is a dangerous man indeed. Bain strikes her as the type of spoiled prince who believes the world is his to mold and everything and everyone else will conform to his wishes. Willow clicks her tongue in thinly veiled disapproval. Lavinia isn’t nearly as put off by this information and actually leans in simply to know more about the prince who has caught her eye.

“Second, Prince Bain, as I understand it, despises me. If he knew or even thought I were interested in Lady Juliet, he would do everything in his power to ensure that does not happen. If you wish to secure a dance with Prince Bain, you will have to use other means. You were introduced to Princess Celeste, the apparent mastermind of the family,” Willow points out. “Why not take Prince Devlin’s suggestion and get on her good side?” She scoots over just a bit to get a better angle of the princess. She’s still hanging off of Devlin’s arm, making her the absolute envy of Lavinia’s flock even if they simultaneously judge her for her uncouth behavior. The princess seems to relish in their disapproval and inability to do anything to stop her.

“Princess Celeste…” Lavinia’s lips form a tight line and she barely withholds the utter contempt from her tone. The name sounds acidic rolling off her tongue. She takes a swallow of her champagne. Then another, until it’s gone, and cooly exchanges her empty glass with Declan’s full one. The flush of alcohol at least returns some color to her cheeks. “It will be a headache getting through to her. You heard how she spoke of me.” Lavinia bristles, her eyes moving in the direction of the princess, somehow knowing her exact position despite her back being turned. Quietly, she continues so that only Declan can hear. “The woman may be a princess, but she lacks the class.” She taps on the side of her glass contemplatively, pulling her lips to the side. After a short deliberation, she lifts a finger and excuses herself. “Do forgive me, Sir Carter. I must attend to the ladies. Find me before the couple is announced.”

Just as Lavinia says this and pulls away from the squire, Willow locks eyes again with Cayman, then Devlin, then Bain and a few other princes who are envious of her prince. She is like a rabbit being tracked by wolves. ‘Where is the nearest safe person?!!’ Unfortunately, the second Willow turns around she whirls straight into the man from the market square. And his eyes are redder than the devil.

Meanwhile, Prince Evren wrings his hands together outside of the ballroom doors. He paces back and forth; sweat gathers over his palms and his brow. It does not matter how often his attendants blot him, he sweats like a pig when he’s nervous. Even a hulking man like himself crumbles before an evening with a darling princess. Perhaps him more than others, knowing the room will whisper the second those double doors open and their arrival is shouted to a bloodthirsty audience, waiting for him to fall. (And crush the princess, as he heard the other princes jesting.) Yet this may be his only chance to acquaint himself with her. Thus far, the princes have made it apparent they will coalesce against him in the name of protecting the dainty damsel. Even so, he is not so sure this is how he wants to go about knowing her. Is that how she wishes her heart to be won? Is this how Evren wishes to win her heart?

In all honesty, Evren doubts the princess even wants her heart as a prize to be won. It’s no secret she announced her intentions to follow the signs of fate and marry for love. He remembers his father’s wrath when that news broke. (“Another bloody princess, gone! At this rate, our sons will be marrying King Cayman’s swine princesses. I shall not let this stand.”) Perhaps he should have said more back then to stop this tournament. She may be one of the few remaining princesses left, but should it not still be her choice—her true choice who she marries? Evren personally found the princess’s announcement to be touching. It was fearless. He could learn a thing or two from her. Here he is, a giant of a man, who could not go against his father’s orders to participate in this tournament and do his damndest to win himself a wife. (“It may very well be the only way you get a bride, son.”)

As the princess and her entourage arrive, Prince Evren is glad to be dragged from his thoughts. His eyes brighten upon seeing Princess Elise, her hair cascading over her shoulders like spiraling waterfalls. The sparkles on her dress bring out a certain shine in her eyes. And though she offers Evren a smile, he can tell it is only because it is proper. He steels himself at this, sweeping into an overly stiff bow to protect his booming heart. When he comes up, he offers the princess his arm to take, noting how he is like a gnarled tree trunk in comparison to her stem-like fingers. “You look beautiful, princess. As you always do. It shall be a bloodbath amongst the princes who will all fight for the honor of your second dance.”

“You are extraordinarily kind to say so, Prince Evren.” Though she acknowledges the sentiment of his words, she does not seem delighted by them. She seems so tired. He frowns, keeping his chin up so that she cannot see. (The one perk of his mountain-like form.)

“Princess, if I may speak before we enter?” He steals a sideways glance over at Elise. She meets his glance and nods for him to continue. “If you wish not to share this dance with me, I will forfeit it to the man of your choosing. I am not of the opinion that this dance we are about to share should have been won through silly games.” His thick brows draw together in thought, his lips pursing beneath his black beard. “This is not to say I would not be elated to share this dance with you, for it would be the greatest honor of my life simply to have the chance to learn more of you. But I would like to return some choice to you, princess.”

 

[ellarose]

Her love lives. Elise is certain of that thanks to the heroines. But participating in this spectacle, hearing nothing from him for days on end... it wears on her. (She fears she will forget his face, the shape of his jawline, the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, even his name...) Except it has not been that long, nor is she the forgetful sort. She would not forget the one she loves the very most. But lately, she's been drifting in a haze as enchantments swirl around her like an overprotective trio of fairies. 'Elise, darling. You have an important role to play. It is vital that you accept your place in the narrative.' The truth that everyone knows remains unspoken and unacknowledged, like her announcement was not but a dream they all shared. The entire realm denies the reality she wanted for herself.

Through all of it, Prince Evren is one of the first among these princes to show her a shred of compassion or understanding.

"Prince Evren. Of all the men in attendance tonight, there are none I would rather share this dance with than you." Elise says, her voice soft but firm as not to leave room for doubt. It is as close to the truth as she can come without explicitly saying the man she wishes to dance with most of all is faraway. (Should she mention him, however...) Idly, she strokes one of the rose petals on her hairpiece. If wishes came true, hers would turn every hexed flower in this castle to dust. "I do appreciate your thoughtfulness and would be honored to know you better as well."

Moreover, the princess understands what it would mean for Prince Evren were she to reject their dance and choose another partner. While the man carries himself with strength and poise, those cruel words and assumptions must hurt him deep down. She can sense it in the way his dark eyes brighten with surprise at her acceptance, even as they stand behind closed doors. Elise's heart aches for him. With only a few sentences he has proven himself more human than many of the princes awaiting their arrival in the ballroom.

A dance is all this will be. Not a means to gloat or parade her about like a boy who has won a trophy. Prince Evren does not wear the vain, pampered veneer a great many of these princes flaunt about like peacock feathers. While it's true that Princess Elise will not be giving Prince Evren her heart this evening... she can offer the good man a dance.

The double doors to the ballroom swing open.

At that same moment, Juliet August maneuvers herself around Prince Bain's wing, weaves through the partygoers and puts herself between Declan Carter and... is that Claudius DeSkies? Princess Elise tugs gently on Prince Evren's arm, prompting him to wait.

"...You. You are the man who stabbed me in the market square." Juliet declares, taking a defensive stance and openly glaring at the man. This accusation draws scandalized gasps from the crowd. Many standing near them step back to give them space. The man now looks to be stirring from whatever trance he's in, uncertain of what he's meant to be doing in the middle of the ballroom to begin with. As if he cannot recall how he got there in the first place. And now he has walked himself right into trouble. He can hardly string coherent syllables together when he tries to respond.

Queen Viviane's attention is torn from her daughter's grand entrance. And she sees that she's not the only one, either. Juliet August. Isn't it always Juliet August? She grips the gilded arms of her throne.

"...Ah, you must be mistaken. This is my Uncle Claudius." Prince Devlin intercepts. The way he steps between Juliet and his uncle, it is difficult to tell which of them he means to protect by doing so... Perhaps his own reputation? He soothes the otherwise startled crowd with his charming smile and a flippant wave of his hand. "I assure you all that he is a good, noble man. He wouldn't stab anyone. Especially not a fair lady such as yourself."

"I am quite certain it was him, your highness." Juliet reaffirms. "Those afflicted with the sickness tend to act out in volatile ways, even if they are not usually violent." (That... or they are only violent behind closed doors and the sickness brings their ugly truths out to the surface.)

"The sickness?" Prince Devlin balks at this possibility, his feathers fluffing up defensively. (Behind him, Claudius grips the sides of his head.) "He is not sick. As I said, he is my uncle--"

"The fact that he is your uncle does not make him immune to the sickness." Juliet says flatly.

"You said it yourself, my lady... you were stabbed. You must have him confused with someone else." Prince Devlin appeals, bringing a hand to his chest as if he means to sympathize with her. "Unless there is anyone present here and now who can confirm your claims?"

Silence follows. A few of the ladies fidget and glance curiously at Lavinia. Juliet looks at Lavinia, too. Lavinia, however, decides that watching the champagne bubbles rise in her glass is the wisest course of action. The ladies who seemed fearful before appear to relax, given their leader has made no such damning accusations against the man.

"Just as I thought. My uncle has simply partaken of one too many drinks on this fine day." Prince Devlin amicably weaves his arm around his red-eyed uncle, nodding in such a way that solicits a few laughs from the other men. "Might someone see to it that he makes it safely back to his quarters? I do apologize for the disturbance."

The castle staff are swift to attend to Prince Devlin's request. Juliet glances back at Willow, checking her up and down to ensure that she hasn't been hurt. Before much else can be said or done, the orchestra begins to play in such a way that finally attracts everyone's attention to the princess's anticipated entrance. The floor clears for Princess Elise and Prince Evren as they step inside. He bows, she curtseys. They start to dance.

For a while, everyone watches in polite silence. (Though the ladies murmur to each other behind their fans and a few of the princes trade smirks as they recall all of their inside jokes about the 'beastly prince'.) However, as they sway and turn, they find no way to ridicule what they're witnessing beyond a few shallow, jealous remarks. Prince Evren never steps on Princess's Elise's feet-- nor does she flinch back from him in disgust. Gradually, other couples begin to filter in to begin their own first dances.

"Sir Declan." Lavinia pushes past Juliet harder than necessary. (Juliet grits her teeth as it agitates her wounds, fighting to suppress a grimace.) Lavinia, perceiving this as mere jealousy, wears an innocent smile on her face. "Shall we?" She tilts her head to the side, perhaps considering the confrontation with Prince Devlin's uncle. Despite the fact that she hadn't said anything in Juliet's defense, she does appear slightly spooked by the man's appearance. "Are you quite all right?"

 

[starboob]

Willow’s cheeks puff out from holding her breath, completely shell shocked, frozen, and pinned down by that vehement stare. Her heart is the only thing that moves and it does so at a gallop. (Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump.) Without her full awareness, her hand moves over to her sword, placing her grip around the hilt. Her knuckles turn white around it. The man’s shadow seems to grow behind him. It swallows all the light in the room like a black hole. Then the shadow lines on his face flicker, dancing so that his features morph and long fangs, dripping with venom, appear. A chill slips down her spine, causing her to lose a few shades, and thick red covers the sorceress’s vision. She feels herself take a half step back without being fully aware of it. At this same time, Juliet puts herself between Uncle Claudius and Willow, giving her some time to recover.

‘Breathe. Breathe.’ Her eyes are wide, her breath shallow. When she looks up at Juliet, she sees a knife in her back. Then she blinks and it’s gone. But his fangs (fangs only Willow sees) still remain and her mind supplies nightmares where Juliet is found with her throat torn out. ‘No.’ Her fist struggles around her sword, confused how it even got there but thankful for the sense of comfort it provides. After another beat, she straightens her stance and starts to calm, focusing on the archer’s back. She drops her hand from her sword and tunes in to the conversation as Prince Devlin blames his uncle’s behavior on alcohol.

As the attendants assist Uncle Claudius, Devlin’s eyes cut back over to Sir Declan Carter, eyeing his hand on his sword then the way Juliet checks on the squire. His tongue clicks quietly, running his eyes up and down them both before turning back towards the crowd to make way for the much anticipated couple.

Willow meets Juliet’s concerned look. Her lips twitch into a shadow of a smile, stopping herself from glowing outright when she remembers her disguise and reminds herself she's under constant supervision. If it’s not Queen Viviane on her throne or these flowers and hexed portraits, then it’s all the princes and king who hate her prince. Schooling herself appropriately, she dips into a slight reverse bow. While the star couple start their first dance, Willow takes the spot next to Juliet, completely forgetting about Lavinia, and whispers, “You are quite fast, Lady Juliet. Have you taken lessons from the tortoise or the hare?”

Unfortunately, Lavinia’s memory is better than Willow’s and she carelessly wedges herself between them. “Ah, right…” She wishes she could say that she disguised the disappointment from her tone, but Lavinia’s flash of annoyance has Willow picking herself back up, not wanting to get on the woman’s bad side. She has enough enemies as it is. “Yes, I am quite alright. I am lucky there was a heroine who acted so quickly. Claudius DeSkies looked rather unwell.” Though Willow says this as cavalierly as she can manage, Lavinia is not mollified. But she presses and folds the feeling until it’s something she can pretend is inconsequential. A dance ought to clear her mind.

As they part from Lady Juliet, Sir Declan Carter flips her a peace sign and leaves with Lady Lavinia on her arm. Prince Bain, for the time being, leaves the archer alone and invites one of Elise’s older cousins to a dance, turning her into the envy of at least half the court ladies. Even so, his eyes still flit between Juliet and the woman immediately in front of him.

Unfortunately, just because Bain is away, this does not also mean that Juliet is left to her own devices just yet. Instead, another skyward royal makes her way over to Juliet’s side. While many of the other single women are quietly sulking over not having a dance partner, Princess Celeste does not seem affected. “How are you enjoying yourself, Lady Juliet?” Her violet eyes casually go back and forth between Lavinia and Juliet and she smirks when she catches Lavinia staring in their direction. Lavinia hurriedly looks away and whispers something to Sir Declan. “I do apologize if my brother has made an arse of himself already. He is unaccustomed to rejection.” She rolls her eyes. “I truly wonder what he thinks it will take to run a kingdom.”

Evren relaxes as more couples take to the floor, making it less obvious that they are the subject of everyone’s attention. It gets easier to talk to the princess too, not having to worry about prying ears. Not that the subject of their conversation is taboo or unseemingly, but the thin veil of privacy is appreciated. In the spirit of getting to know the princess, the prince is sure to ask her plenty of questions, daring to go beyond the surface of their favorite gemstones and asking about her. (Who is Elise? What makes her shine brightest?) It’s a gentle conversation. An easy one. Elise is polite and genuine and Evren is attentive and curious. Together, they find common ground where their reputations are concerned and commiserate over always having to prove themselves. Though Evren knows this will only amount to a dance, the apples of his cheeks are plump and rosy with his smile. (It’s not a bad smile, either. A little crooked, a little toothy, but that seems to be part of its charm.)

As the prince and princess take their final turn together, Evren steps forward onto an innocently placed purple feather causing him to slip backwards. The entire room seems to pause as he's thrown back—the only one who moves is Willow. Without excusing herself, she jumps from Lavinia to the prince, catching his massive arm before he hits the ground. Her efforts do nothing more than pull them both to the floor, but at least Evren doesn’t go down alone. At least he isn’t the center of a spectacle. Willow knows how awful that is.

A few among the throngs of dancers snicker—Prince Bain doesn’t even both to hide his amusement behind his hand. His eyes shine openly with glee. Others whisper. Queen Viviane makes no move yet, carefully observing from her throne. Prince Devlin has the decency to pardon himself from his partner and step forward, but Elise is closer and arrives sooner. Improper as it may be, she is known as a naïve and kind princess so it’s not unusual for her to offer her assistance as the prince and squire rise from the floor. (Even if this is to the queen's open disapproval.) While Willow takes a step back to dust off her pants, Evren squares his shoulders, not seeming the least bit affected. (It was an amateurish move and one he should have prepared for.) He opens his mouth to say something, but the princess beats him to it. “Are you alright, Prince Evren?”

“Indeed,” he nods, pulling together a smile. He twirls the offending feather between his forefinger and thumb. “Had the arena been full of these, I might not have fared so well in the jousts.” He looks up briefly, noting the lack of music and the eyes all on them. “Not quite the end to our dance that I was anticipating, I must say.”

“We shall give our dance a proper ending,” Elise affirms, snapping her eyes up so quickly, so coldly, that the amusement washes from Bain’s face almost instantly when the princess skirts her gaze towards him. (Like this, her resemblance to Queen Viviane is almost uncanny.) Satisfied there will be no more hijinks, she twirls around and claps towards the orchestra. “Would you be so kind as to start us back from the top of the page?”

The conductor looks warily between Elise and her mother, only giving his nod after the queen shows her slight one. Once everyone is back in their prior position, the last bit of the music starts. Lavinia is aghast that Elise would honor the small number of steps she owed to the prince, not at all understanding how her sweet friend can stand to be so near a beast. If Willow were paying attention, she might have cut Lavinia off with one of her numerous -isms, but instead she tracks Juliet, Bain, Devlin, and Cayman. Cayman, unsurprisingly, does not have a partner for this dance, but the way he leers and stalks around the edge of the crowd tells Willow all she needs to know about what he’s thinking.

Taking a cue as the song starts to gradually slow, Willow maneuvers herself and Lavinia closer to the princess so that by the time Evren and Elise are respectively bowing and curtsying towards each other, Willow is the first to ask for her second dance. She unabashedly rushes forward, barely even waiting for Evren to step back. Then she's blurting out, “On behalf of Prince Jayden, may I have this dance, princess?”

Meanwhile, Prince Bain stalks over to Juliet’s corner of the ballroom, finding her easily with that red hair of hers. “Enough of this cat and mouse. Come join me for a dance, Lady Juliet.” He presents his arm to her. From behind him, Queen Viviane stares icicles into Juliet, telling her to play nice. (After that stunt earlier…) “A single dance and I shall not bother you for the rest of the evening.”

 

[ellarose]

And so Juliet ends up on the dance floor with Prince Bain. She hopes he knows the meaning of a promise better than he knows the meaning of the word ‘no’. One dance. Only one. It’s more than she has the patience for, but with Queen Viviane’s eyes boring into the back of her head she knows it’s best that she obliges the insufferable brat for now. But when the prince's hands find her waist it takes every ounce of patience she possesses not to push Prince Bain-- along with their entire quest-- out the balcony window. She averts her gaze as he pulls her closer, watching her feet and the other couples around them as they start to step in time with the music.

Lavinia steams up like a chicken bun while she stands on the sidelines and watches them. Juliet can't bring herself to revel in her frustration because no one is more frustrated with this turn of events than she is. If only she knew how delighted she would be to simply hand him over and be done with this nonsense. Then perhaps she could make a stop at the refreshment table... because a steamed chicken bun does sound rather nice. By the time Juliet and the prince have turned their backs to Lavinia, Prince Devlin steps in to her to ask for her second dance.

Momentarily, Juliet's gaze lingers across the dance floor on Princess Elise and Willow. The princess looks enraptured by something Willow has just said, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. In response, Juliet ignores the slightest twinge she feels in her chest. It's not strange, is it? It's only natural that she would rather be over there with them than locked in Prince Bain's embrace.

“Whatever is going on in that mind of yours, Lady Juliet?” Prince Bain speaks, distracting her. Defensively, her mind crafts a fantasy where she punts the winged man into the sun. "I want to know what you're thinking about." And it's all about what he wants, is it not?

“Claudius DeSkies.” Juliet muses instead. She doesn’t want to tell Prince Bain that she was thinking about him in any capacity. Knowing him, he’d find some way to turn her violent fantasies into a compliment. “Do you know him?”

"The DeSkies have always been like a second family to me. Old Claudius, though... he tended to keep to himself. He was a quiet man." Prince Bain says conversationally. "In fact, I always thought he had one of those faces..." He tilts his head as he searches for the right way to phrase what he's thinking. "A plain, common face. It is not so strange that you confused him for someone else." He spins her around and tries to be sly as he tucks a rouge strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I think that's enough about Claudius. I want to hear more about you."

Juliet bites her tongue and glares up at him.

Meanwhile, Elise is positively delighted to be dancing with Willow James. (Well, not really Willow James. Her true identity is a secret, is it not? Instead, she is dancing with Sir Declan Carter.) It is good fun to have a such a secret between them. Among all the portraits, the flowers, and the other guests only she, Willow, and Juliet are aware of it.

"How is Prince Jayden faring this evening?" Elise asks, considering the joust. Knowing it was truly Juliet in there facing against all of those princes was as thrilling as it was concerning. She knows that her friend can handle such things, but it is still in her nature to worry seeing her so roughly unhorsed. "He is fortunate to have a kind and attentive squire such as yourself looking after him." She smiles knowingly, meaning that in more ways than just one. Not only did she feel that way seeing Declan running to Jayden's aid in the arena earlier... but when she saw Juliet and Willow together in the Midnight Mountains.

"I remember our past correspondences fondly." Elise ventures, trying to keep their story consistent. "Do you know if there was a reason why he stopped writing me?"

 

[starboob]

“Prince Jayden is swell. He should be resting now.” And he very much isn’t. A quick glance over in the imposter prince’s direction shows her with Prince Bain. With his hand is sliding down to her waist. He’s pulling her in close. It should be her dancing with Juliet, not that bum. Willow tears her eyes away before her blood becomes hot, before she becomes too hot to the touch, before she burns the princess with her quiet rage. It’s easy enough to give her attention to Princess Elise, at least. She’s a pleasant distraction from the choler simmering within her.

Among all these foes and outright villains, there is Elise. Their one friend and ally. Though she supposes the reverse is true as well, knowing that they are the only ones trying to fight on Elise’s behalf and save her from a loveless marriage. Queen Viviane may believe that she’s giving her daughter a chance at finding a proper husband who she can love as a friend and she may even be convinced that Elise will someday understand and thank her for forcing her hand, but Willow hasn’t seen such an absence of life in a living body since running into Dorothea at the Elsefaire. To the queen, this may be a bet with a high reward, but how can she not also be weighing the high risk? That is the question Willow keeps coming back to and maybe she should stop trying to seek out the logic in this decision, because it will never make sense to her and she will never stand for it. It’s causing her too much grief to think about it.

When the princess asks about Prince Jayden’s letters, Willow’s eyes brighten, like she’s just been reminded of something. “Oh, he never stopped writing.” Her words come out slow and deliberate. She stares deeply into Elise’s eyes, trying to hint at a second meaning. Were it possible, she would give Elise Flynn's letter now. And while it may be torturous to know he has written without knowing what he wrote, Willow is hoping the information keeps Elise's spirits alive. “But sending is just not his strong suit. It is mighty difficult for letters to travel so far. Perhaps they might reach you still. A little late, a little weathered, but I do believe the feelings shall be intact. He does wish he could be here tonight.”

“As do I,” the princess whispers.

There’s a solemn look in her eyes, one that Willow wishes she could brush away, but only one person can do that and he’s not here. “He should be making a timely recovery. He is in good hands.” She removes her hands from the princess and wiggles them in front of her. “See, do these not seem like good hands?”

Elise giggles and all the watchful eyes brighten with envy. Willow can feel them all on her back and front, glowing like a sniper’s mark. King Cayman’s mark burns the fiercest and as the song comes to an end, she knows she will need to make a speedy exit.

And it seems the remaining princes are not going to make this easy, all of them closing in on Elise like sharks, having learned better than to be slow. Prince Devlin, with Lady Lavinia as collateral cargo, makes his way nearer and nearer to the princess, eyes deadset and determined to claim the princess’s third dance since he was cheated out of the first—somehow. A most vexing mystery. One that will have to wait for another time.

He spins Lady Lavinia one last time and catches her in his arms, showing her a smile that matches her own. Though many men are in a rush to end with their partners, while also trying to leave no woman feeling jilted, Prince Devlin takes his time. “A lovely dance, Lady Lavinia. I wish you luck on your quest to win over Princess Celeste.”

Entirely oblivious to Lavinia’s thinly veiled shock, he sweeps into a bow then pivots towards the princess. While other princes crash into each other trying to get to Elise—who is offering one of her sweet smiles to that damned squire—Prince Devlin is careful to make no fool of himself. As soon as the squire has squeezed himself between the throng of princes, Devlin is already tapping on Elise’s shoulder, a hint of triumph already shining in his eyes as the other princes sink in defeat.

“If you have not already promised another this dance, may I?” Already, Devlin has reached for Elise’s hand and brushes his lips across her gloved knuckles, to the ire of all the women whose hearts he has already won. (But not hers. For some reason, not hers.)

“You may,” Elise replies, seeming rather stiff. Entirely unlike how she had been with that squire or even Prince Evren. Devlin makes a note of this, keeping his slight smile as he settles his hands around her. (He can still win her over yet.) Their song begins, this one much slower than the previous ones, and they take their steps around the floor as others couple up and join them.

“You know,” the prince starts after a pass of silence, “ever since your family sent mine your portrait, I have often dreamed of this moment. Well," he chuckles, "not this specific moment, but of our first dance, certainly." He hums thoughtfully, taking in the envy of the other princes and ladies before returning to Elise. "I must confess, I am enchanted to finally meet you, princess. What might a poor romantic like myself do to earn your favor?"

 

[ellarose]

What could he do? Well, he could certainly start by penning his own songs and poems. Elise bites down on the scathing comment before it can leave her petal-pink lips. The pin in her hair digs into her scalp, an uncomfortable reminder of her current position. Prince Devlin DeSkies is one of mother's favorites and this favoritism is no secret... to such an extent that the princess often wonders why she fusses with this silly tournament nonsense to begin with. She notices him noticing the people around them, staring with wonder. At a glance, she supposes they look like a classic prince and princess escaped from a lovely stained glass window display. The two of them as a pair is comfortable, it's palatable, it makes sense to them. On the surface level, Elise understands what they're all seeing. A perfectly beautiful match, befitting of the storybooks they all cherish. Two powerful kingdoms united. Tale as old as time...

Behind that picture-perfect glaze will a man like Prince Devlin surprise her? Will he make her laugh? Will he listen to her ideas? Will he love her just the same as she ages-- or will he begin taking younger lovers as her beauty fades?

It's not just that. Mother seeks someone who will take care of her daughter, unable to see that Elise has ideas of her own for the kingdom. She wishes to steer the kingdom towards the future, towards change. She wants to fight for those who have always been made to feel they were outcasts. For true love. Will a prince such as this allow for her to use her voice? Or will he prefer her a silenced, delicate little thing at his side?

Ever since father... ever since that night... mother overprotects and shelters her. And she fails to see she's been raising a daughter who wishes to be just as powerful and independent a queen as she is.

"You needn't scheme to earn my favor, Prince Devlin." Elise says this as if she means to tease him, as though she doesn't see what's right in front of her when she most certainly does. "It's really quite simple. I value those who are true to themselves." Her wide blue eyes are surprisingly sharp, like scalpels into his soul. "I suppose you could say I have a sense for such things."

For a millisecond, the princess puts a dent in Prince Devlin's composure. He appears reluctant, unnerved, as if the princess has just disarmed and dismantled him before everyone. And then it's gone again, strategically hidden behind the charming smile he's known for. "For you, princess. I shall wear my heart upon my sleeve." He twirls the princess around and then pulls her closer. "Is there a way I can prove to you that my intentions are true?"

Elise's gaze flits across the ballroom where her mother sits on her throne. At present, Prince Maxmillion is making an attempt to appeal to her while a disgruntled Ambrose tries and fails to ward him off.

"Perhaps you can tell me about your process." Elise suggests, raising an eyebrow. "What's your secret?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm referring to your songwriting process. You write them yourself, do you not?" Elise bats her eyes impressionably, tilting her head to the side. She knows exactly what she's doing. "It's quite impressive. I greatly appreciate the arts... and songs do not fall out of the sky."

Meanwhile, Juliet seeks a pillar to hide behind while she enjoys the chicken bun she whisked from the refreshment table. However, she discovers her hiding place of choice is occupied when she catches Prince Ivory cradling Prince Llewellyn's face. Her brows lift as she takes the sight in, holding herself back from taking another step as not to interrupt their moment. Neither of them notices her. (Careless.) Prince Llewellyn whispers something in Prince Ivory's ear and they share a smile before he strides across the ballroom towards a cluster of Elise's cousins. It's only after he's gone that Juliet takes her place behind the pillar, making her presence known to Prince Ivory.

"...Hiding from Prince Bain?" Prince Ivory guesses correctly, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes when he notes her snack. One glance through the crowd and they can both see Bain wandering around skirts and refreshment tables like a lost puppy. "He's quite keen on you."

"I simply wish to eat in peace." Juliet says with a slight shrug. She looks from the corner of her eye at Ivory. He ought to know. "Be careful. You're playing a dangerous game." The prince stiffens, then, his amusement quickly fading as he realizes the possibility that she might have seen something. He looks at her searchingly, trying to read it on her face. She sighs and looks down at her food. "...I recommend the gardens if you wish to dance. You can hear the music and won't be seen."

On the other end of the ballroom, King Cayman glares as Princess Elise shares her third dance with Prince Devlin. Then his sight drifts towards the one she shared her second dance of the evening with. Sir Declan Carter, the Wonderlandian squire. The one who got in his way when he meant to greet the princess for the very first time. (Indeed. Those damned Wonderlandians are conspiring against him.) The king strides towards the man. Before the likes of him, he looks like a mouse cowering in the shadow of a fearsome lion.

"You there.... what are you doing here, dancing with the princess and leaving your prince unattended?" The king throws the accusation out, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. (Something must be done about the Wonderlandians and their reputation with the princess.) "Is he in any state to defend himself should an intruder appear in your quarters? I am sure he has plenty of enemies."

 

[starboob]

Songs and poems may not fall from the sky, but little birds without their feathers certainly do. What will happen to a mermaid? Prince Devlin has to wonder. It is merely an idle curiosity. He is obviously not serious. The wonderings just come so naturally following the princess’s little trick. But Prince Devlin is not piqued. No, not at all. Shocked, certainly, but most of all he is intrigued. He is rapt.

And he now knows to be careful around this poisonous flower. Protectively, the swirls of pink in his eyes creep over the blue splotches until his eyes are only a bright, though not overbearing, pink, complementing the streaks in his mostly blue hair.

He then considers the angles, the possible plays, and the direction the dominoes will tumble based on what he says and how he acts. Though the princess is more or less his betrothed, he mustn’t get comfortable. As the Evermorian adage goes, “happy wife, happy life.” And he intends to give her the very best life imaginable by his side, as the queen to his kingdom, surrounded by only the finest. It’ll be a life to make all other women envious and are they not already off to a spectacular start? One look around the room tells him as much. Everyone but the princess can see the end to this start. They all know he is the only one perfectly suited for a princess such as Elise.

They are just too perfect to not be perfect together.

But he still must proceed with care. The princess has shown she will not be so easily won and Devlin does not mind the chase. It just makes their story all the more riveting. This in mind, Devlin nods in concession, his pastel wings drooping in slight as he opts to go with the truth. If this is what the princess values, perhaps she will reward his honesty.

“My apologies, princess, but I must disappoint and admit that those songs were not my own.” It was Princess Celeste, surprisingly, who offered her hand after reading Devlin’s first drafts. “There was indeed a ghost who guided my quill when all my own words failed. I suppose in my eagerness to show my romantic side, I compromised my integrity and for that I am most apologetic. I wish you grant me another chance, to prove the man I am.” He offers her a choice, though not without considering that she has no choice. He is the queen’s favorite, after all, and this is his advantage.

“I can already see how you shall make me a better man.” His innocently pink eyes twinkle as he goes to dip the princess to the awe and 'aww' of their onlookers. They are perfect together.

All while Prince Devlin tries to seduce the princess with some version of truth, Willow finds herself back up against one of the many pillars lining the ballroom as King Cayman—all seven feet of him—tower over the slight squire. Her heart gallops in her chest as she stares wide-eyed up at the man, not even bothering to hide her abject fear. The small weight of Lucky’s baby tooth around her neck is her only comfort that he cannot do anything to change her.

But that does not mean there are not other ways he might torture the sorceress.

She places one band behind her back, like she’s reaching to grip the pillar, but really she is reaching for her disguised staff, readying herself for anything. She swallows the hard lump in her throat as she takes in the king's threat to her prince, images of Juliet cut open or hurt flooding her mind. (Those around them stare for only a second before turning their attention to the dance floor, none brave enough to step in and help the Wonderlandian squire.)

“Well?” King Cayman hisses when the squire fails to provide an answer.

“I-I–” Willow stammers, forgetting how to speak or even what she wants to say in the presence of the king of nightmares. (It’s much easier to just cut the man off than confront him directly. Why did she have to be so brazen?) She can’t see past this behemoth of a man, but she knows that beyond him is the princess and, somewhere, there is Juliet. Two people in this room who she would try her darndest to protect. Of course she was brazen. Of course she'll be bold.

She shuts her eyes fiercely, gathering herself together and shaking away her fears. When her brown eyes open again, she meets Cayman’s nasty gaze, hardening her own. (It’s not exactly intimidating, but it’s something.) “I am here on behalf of my prince, so he does not miss a chance to know the princess. I am here, because my prince is well, just not well enough to be here.” She knows this is true, because Juliet is still standing (even if she should be ducking resting). “Who are you to question loyalty?” Wait. Did she really just say that? Out loud? With her outside voice?

She must have, because Cayman’s eyes blaze in response. “You best watch your back, Wonderlandian, lest something befalls your precious prince. Think.” He forces emphasis on the word like it will actually get Willow to reconsider. “He gathers enemies by the day. If you wish for his safety, back down.” Before the sorceress can react, the king of nightmares taps his gloved finger to her forehead, sending a flurry of violent scenes through her mind. She stands against the pillar, stiff, eyes rolling up as the nightmarish spell takes over her vision, her mind, her heart—

Scenes of Jayden (Juliet?) being cornered, chased, beaten by the other princes. Jayden (Juliet) collapsed on the ground, bleeding out. Jayden (Juliet) with a sword through her chest. Willow finding her too late. Or she finds her just in time, but is held down and forced to watch.

“This is your only warning, swine. Back down.” The king releases the spell and the sorceress all but goes entirely slack against the pillar, her body weak and shaking. By the time she’s blinking back into existence, the king’s blood red cape is all she sees as he steps away, the crowd parting for him as he makes his way back to the dance floor.

Tears she hadn’t been fully aware of streak down her cheeks, much to the shock of others watching her. Not that Willow notices. No, her eyes are searching and, soon, she’s pushing off the pillar and through the crowd to find Prince Jayden.

 

[ellarose]

At least Prince Devlin DeSkies is not trying to maintain the facade she has already seen through. Hearing him confirm that he lied, however, is not enough to endear her to the man. He will have to try much, much harder than that to earn her trust. Admirable as it is to admit to one's mistakes, she suspects he would not have apologized at all had she not brought it up. Were she as naive as the women swooning over him on the sidelines, he'd likely have let her go her whole life believing that he'd written those romantic words just for her. He says she will make him a better man... but she has yet to see how.

"So you've no talent for songwriting." Elise says flatly. Her emotions are schooled into perfect indifference, giving him no indication of how moved (or insulted) she is by his truth. "Then might I inquire what it is you do excel at, Prince Devlin?"

The prince starts to speak about himself and as he does so, time slips away in a haze. One minute he is detailing the hunts he looked forward to as a boy and the next Elise is blinking, aware that her feet are aching and the music has changed. Suddenly, she’s been on the floor with Prince Devlin for more than just one dance. Prince Devlin talked about himself for a while and Princess Elise hadn't managed to speak a single word of her own since then. What happened?

"Thank you for dancing with me this evening, Princess Elise. I shall look forward to our next meeting." Prince Devlin bows and excuses himself, leaving the princess stunned and confused in the aftermath. What did he do to me? She rubs her jaw, willing some feeling and movement back into it, only to stiffen a moment later when she notices King Cayman making his way across the ballroom towards her, intent on taking her next dance for himself...

But Juliet August is faster than he is. Thank goodness.

“You look tired, princess." Juliet slips in beside Elise with impeccable timing, taking her arm. "Shall we rest for a moment by the refreshment tables?"

“Indeed.” Elise agrees, relieved. She isn’t sure what came over her exactly, but she welcomes a respite from the dance floor, Prince Devlin and the other princes vying for her attention. (And King Cayman, that unspeakably awful man.) The king scowls and turns the other way, once more thwarted in his efforts to get close to her. The princess blinks slow and hard as she and Juliet make their way to the refreshment table, emerging from the haze she suddenly found herself in. "How has your evening been, Lady Juliet?"

"I've been vigilant, watching for suspicious behavior among the guests. Aside from my encounter with Claudius DeSkies, I've little to report upon... except for the desserts, I suppose." Juliet subtly taps her finger against the side of her plate once, their code for 'first letter', and then methodically arranges a plate for them to share.

"Naturally. Do you have any recommendations?" Elise smiles. This is a code they invented as little girls and it delights her whenever Juliet shows that she still remembers. (No one ever suspects a thing. Juliet August does love her desserts.)

"Of course." Juliet proceeds to set her selections in a deliberate order on the plate. One tap, first letter. Apple cake, macarons, banana pudding. A, m, b. She stares searchingly at the other selections spread out before them and poses a question while pressing four fingers to her cheek, "Are you aware if there are any rose-themed desserts, princess? The pink cakes, perhaps?"

A, m, b... Elise lists off the letters and then considers the rest. Four. Rose. A, m, b, rose. Ambrose.

"No, the pink cakes are strawberry lemonade. If I recall correctly, they were provided by a bakery in Aira." Elise brushes her hand over her rose hairpiece and glances overhead at the rose garlands hung all around. She's been suffocating in roses since this ordeal began. "However, there are so many roses strung about that I would not be surprised if you discovered petals in your cake. Why do you ask?"

"I took ill the last time I had rose cake. I'd rather avoid it if I can." Juliet suggests and the message is clearly conveyed. Ill will. Be careful around Ambrose. Elise doesn't look his way, unwilling to raise any suspicions, but she lets the information settle all while knowing he stands behind her. The man is one of her mother's trusted advisors. While she wishes to ask why, she knows they've no room for that now. Juliet and Willow helped Flynn. They're the only ones within these castle walls that she can truly trust right now. And she suspects someone within these walls was responsible for making Flynn 'disappear'. It could have very well been Ambrose.

"Lady Juliet..." Elise takes Juliet's hand, startling her friend. Her eyes are full of genuine compassion and concern when she considers the joust earlier, when she considers her friend's crafty disguise and her place in the tournament. "Are you feeling all right now?"

Nearby, Princess Celeste raises a curious brow as she watches Princess Elise and Lady Juliet interact. Just a few paces away from her, Lady Lavinia watches as Prince Bain also watches Princess Elise and Lady Juliet interact. Princess Celeste's attention is gradually drawn in her direction-- and seeing her, she cannot help but smirk and approach from behind.

"The princess is closer to Lady Juliet than I realized." Princess Celeste observes, reveling in the way her presence startles Lady Lavinia. "Though I suppose it makes sense. There's just something about her, isn't there? She's so interesting and mysterious. It's no wonder my brother wishes to better acquaint himself with her." With every word, the princess watches with fascination as the other woman's cheeks become redder and redder with frustration. "I would love to see her dance someday. I heard she was riveting in the role of the swan princess."

"...Then I'm afraid you've missed your opportunity. Lady Juliet will never dance again." Lavinia says hotly, examining her fingernails. Juliet August stole her coveted role and then quit before Lavinia had the chance to redeem herself. However..."Though I suppose I can't fault her for quitting after her costar tried to murder her. It's honestly better not to get involved with the likes of Lady Juliet. She attracts nothing but misfortune and trouble." She sighs and glares at Prince Bain. "You should tell your brother to stay away from her."

"Ah, I see. Is it because you wish to keep her all to yourself?" Princess Celeste wears a cheshire grin and Lavinia's mouth hangs open. (She is unfazed by the gossip... but perhaps she's already heard all of the gossip.) The princess proceeds to gesture to their accursed thread as if it's supposed to mean something.

"You mean to imply..." Lavinia is beside herself. Simply beside herself! She mustn't entertain the notion for even a second. She won't let herself dwell upon it, deciding instead to proceed with her true intentions. "Goodness no! I could not care less about Lady Juliet. She's been a thorn in my side since the day we met. The one I wish to acquaint myself with is your brother, Princess Celeste."

Meanwhile, Prince Evren has stepped out of the ballroom to get some air. His night has gone less than ideal since his first and only dance with the princess... between tripping on various feathers and having a splash of wine spilled down the front of his shirt by one of the princes. (He suspects it was deliberate, based on the way a group nearby broke into snickers and jeers... but in the moment, Prince Evren accepted the prince's apology and insistence that it was an accident as not to cause a scene.) He sighs, feeling like a lonely boy again as he listens to the muffled orchestra through the wall and feeds his rabbit a few of the carrot sticks he swiped from the refreshment table.

But then it becomes apparent that he's not alone out there. Someone else is leaving the ballroom-- sniffling with tears running down their face. Immediately concerned, Prince Evren turns around and recognizes Prince Jayden's squire-- Sir Declan Carter.

"Sir Declan? Is everything all right?" Prince Evren sets his rabbit on his shoulder and rises, following after the squire. While the prince is not inclined to get in any altercations on his own behalf, knowing the cruel nature of the other princes firsthand does have him feeling rather defensive of this small-statured man. Especially while his own prince is not present to look after him. "Has something happened?"