The Ball

There was a ball that night in celebration of the Queen's recovery.

Reyna had not doubted Lance's warnings about how she was perceived by her subjects. But it wasn't until she conversed with the courtiers that she allowed herself to fully believe him. As courteous as they might appear, she could feel it in their words, bows and curtsies that half of these people doubted her, the other half feared her. Though they had bent the knees, their loyalty was not rooted.

However, they loved Lance. She supposed it was because they knew nothing about him while Egon had spent all those months convincing the people that she was either a madwoman or a whore. When she was with Lance, her subjects seemed to like her better.

The courtiers who had witnessed the massacre in the throne room were not allowed to speak of it to the public. So the other members of the gentry who had not been here only knew the details of the duel, and Lance was portrayed as the knight in shining armour who'd shown up just in time.

Of course, people also knew about Reyna's bravery and that she'd commanded a witch to bring Jo back to life. Reyna believed that was why they feared her. But she didn't want to be feared. She wanted to be loved, like her mother. She had spent her whole life trying to not be like her father and Egon. With Lance by her side, she might succeed. Everyone loved the romanticized version of what had happened that day, with less blood and death, more prince carrying princess home from the bloody battle. Tonight, she would give them that. She was still on the fence about the proposal, but the ball tonight had really made her think.

That was until she saw him.

At first, she thought it was only a trick of the mind. Because there was no possible way he could sneak past the guards to enter the castle, let alone attend the royal ball. But she could not mistake him from any other faces. That was him.

Their eyes met from across the room. He was dressed like a gentleman, probably had stolen the clothes from a real gentleman who'd been too drunk to care. She wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

She opened her mouth although he wouldn't be able to hear her voice over the music even if she shouted his name. Suddenly, he broke their gaze and disappeared through the doors like a ghost.

She immediately excused herself from the conversation and left Lance to entertain the guests with his jokes; they liked him better anyway.

No one followed her as she ducked out of the ballroom, holding up her full skirt as she ran down the long stairs leading to the garden. The snow was falling thick and the night was black. The dim flickering of lanterns could not help her see more than ten steps ahead of her.

The snow had covered the footsteps of the runaway guest, if he existed at all. She believed he did. She wanted to believe so. She found herself wandering into the darkness as the wind blew stronger and colder. One of her hands holding the crown upon her head, the other gripping her skirt, her hair flying wild, and her eyes burning from the cold.

"ROWAN!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, the howling of the wind drowning out her voice. "IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOUR FACE, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

There was no answer. She feared he couldn't hear her, and after a moment, as the hot tears turned to frost on her cheeks and eyelashes, she feared that she'd gone mad.

"Reyna!"

She whipped her head around to the doorway where Lance stood with a guard in the warm glow of the castle corridor. He rushed down the stairs toward her while shrugging off his coat and wrapped it around her body. He tugged her to his chest and walked her back inside.

"What happened?" he panted, his gloved hands warming up her cheeks. Her teeth were rattling, and she could see her breath. "Are you hurt, Reyna? Speak to me!"

"No," she managed to say. "I thought I saw someone..."

"An intruder?"

"I don't know." She swallowed and buried her face into his chest. She was crying. She couldn't control it, but it felt good to let it all out. Lance rubbed her back and mumbled into her hair that it could be a wild animal and he'd send the guards to search in the garden. Her heart jumped as she thought of Rowan getting caught. But maybe he deserved it. If the guards caught him, they'd present him to her, their Queen. And she'd meant it when she'd said she wouldn't forgive him for messing with her like that.

Deep down she knew there was no Rowan. Just her mind playing tricks on her.

"Would you like to return to the ball?" Lance asked, still not letting her go.

She shook her head, still shivering. He didn't object and told the guard behind him to escort the Queen back to her bed-chamber.

"I'll tell the guests that you don't feel well," he said.

She scowled at him from beneath her frosted lashes. "I don't trust you to deliver the words. You've tried to win my people's affection all night."

He laughed a little, his hands were firm on her shoulders. "Just because you can resist me doesn't mean the others can."

At that moment, the Lord Chancellor appeared at the end of the hallway, apparently also looking for the two of them.

"There you are, my lord," said Lance. "The Queen doesn't feel well. She'd like to return to her bed-chamber." Then he gave her a look which said 'do you believe me now?'

She rolled her eyes in answer and pushed away from him. His touch lingered on her body when she left.

The guard followed her all the way back to her chambers. She could not wait to be alone so she could scream and break things, so as soon as she entered the room, she ordered for all the maids to leave. The door fell shut, but she could still feel the guard's presence. He was standing at the door, in full armour.

"Did Lance tell you to stay?" she sighed. "Get out. You are not needed. I'm going to have to change my clothes."

The guard didn't move.

Something was wrong.

Intruder. Think fast.

Reyna held her breath as she ambled to the bed. Right as she drew out her dagger from under her pillow and raised it in the air, the guard had advanced and caught her by the wrist. She did not give in. She kicked and screamed. He covered her mouth and said something, but his voice was muffled by the helmet. She punched him and he pinned her to the bed, straddling her waist. He managed to take the dagger from her hand and held it at her throat.

He tried to tell her something again.

Wait, the ring. The ring on his finger! She knew that ring!

Before she could react, the guard used his free hand to pull off the helmet, his long brown curls tumbling out, dim candlelight flickering in his green eyes.

"It's me, Peach," he said, his voice soft and warm.

He smiled that beautiful smile.

And she struck him across the face.

.

.

.

Kenny flinched at the sound of the door creaking open and whipped her head around to find Stefan peering in. The fire cast an eerie shadow of her upon the wall, making him look more like a small and helpless child than the master of his own house.

"Sorry, I should have knocked," he said.

"It's okay." She sat up straight and folded her hands on top of her knees. Stefan still idled at the door. She nodded her head toward the other seat in front of the fire, trying to suppress a smile. "Come sit with me. This is your house, Stef."

"It is, yeah," he chuckled, kicked the door close and shook his head as if he hadn't meant to forget this was his house. She watched as he dropped heavily into the chair facing hers. They both started talking at the same time and both looked away. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other in person. She stifled a laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Y-You first."

She pressed her lips into a smile. "I was just going to say thank you for letting me stay."

"We're friends, aren't we?" His eyes disappeared into two lovely curves, but as soon as he leaned back into the chair, his face shadowed grimly. "I was going to say," he added, "that I'm so sorry for what you had to go through."

Kenny's smile wavered a little. "It's all right now. I'm safe here with you."

She could never tell poor Stefan that every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dead bodies of her husband and the man in the black cloak lying at her feet. She'd murdered someone and seen Rowan murder someone. Those two deaths would stick with her forever, and maybe she deserved that punishment for having broken her vows and married someone else, or maybe it was for her jealousy and the wicked thoughts she'd had about the Princess of the North without even knowing the girl.

She waited for Stefan to say something, and when he didn't, she broke the silence. "Where do you think Rowan is now?"

Stefan drew a breath. "Probably at the North castle, or close." And regarded her with curious eyes. "So are you two..."

"No, not anymore." She cleared her throat. "I wish him happiness with whoever he falls in love with."

"He must get over the Princess first," Stefan said.

"Yes," Kenny sadly agreed. "He must. But I don't think he can."

There was a moment of silence.

"I wish he'd stayed with us," Stefan said regretfully. "He could be happy here."

Instead of telling her friend she also missed Rowan and wished that he'd never left, Kenny let the silence descend. The dancing flame hypnotized her, and she allowed herself to get lost in it for a moment until she heard Stefan shifting in his chair. When she cast a glance at him, he was holding out something shiny.

"I almost forgot. Rowan left this for you."

It was the gold hairpin, which she had already given back to him on the night she'd asked him to run away and he'd turned her down.

Reluctantly, she took it with both hands and held it like it was made of glass. The gems and the gold flickered like stars in the firelight. For a second, she dared to imagine herself as a little girl and tried to recall the happiness she'd felt when she'd received it. The very first gift from her very first love.

"He told me," Stefan went on, "that he couldn't keep it. Because when he gave it to you and you accepted it, it was yours and yours forever. You could either sell it and open your own sewing business here, or you could keep it and remember him."

Kenny closed her fingers around the jewellery and pressed it against her heart. Her eyes found Stefan's face, and she realized she was looking at him through the tears. "Oh, I hope he's safe and warm now, Stefan. I hope he's not hurt."

Stefan reached for her hand and held it tight. "He's Rowan. Nothing and no one could hurt him."

.

.

.

"That hurts, Peach! Why would you do that?!" Rowan cried out as he leapt away from the bed. The left side of his face still stung from the force of Reyna's hand.

The Princess flung right at him and shoved him so hard his armour clanged as he stumbled backwards and caught the bed-post to keep himself standing. She took another step then stalled at the dagger pointed at her.

Maybe this wasn't his princess. Did she have a twin? It would be so fucked up if she had a twin. No, she couldn't have a twin. It was she who'd shouted his name in the garden.

Her eyes gleamed with rage as her voice lowered dangerously. "Give me the dagger, Rowan."

She knew his name! She was his Peach!

Half of Rowan was relieved, while the other half trembled at the black look she was giving him. She advanced and he immediately stepped back, holding up his free hand. "I will, if you promise not to attack me."

Her jaw dropped. "You snuck up on me! You attacked me!"

"You attacked me first! I wanted to surprise you and you almost stabbed me! What the fuck was that?"

"You pinned me to the bed and held my weapon at my throat!"

"That was self-defence!" he retorted, but when he saw tears welling up in her eyes, he dropped the dagger and flew right toward her. She didn't scream or kick or punch him as he tugged her into him and locked his arms tightly around her shoulders. She hugged him back, and he hated that this armour kept him from feeling her warmth.

They stayed like that until she pulled away and blinked up at him, tears still hanging on her long lashes. "Did I really hurt you?" she asked.

He bared his teeth. "Do I still have perfect teeth?"

"Yes," she replied, amused.

"Then no. You didn't really hurt me."

"Would you have hurt me?"

"I can't believe you asked me that. Of course not."

"Really?" Her eyebrow rose. "Not even if I'd called the guards."

"You've got no guard here. Your prince had sent all the guards to the ballroom to protect you. Except for this one." He gestured smugly at the armour and shushed her before she scolded him. "Don't worry. I didn't kill him. He was drunk and I knocked him out. He'll wake up naked in a random room somewhere."

"My prince?"

"I don't know." He mimicked her tentative expression. "You tell me. You let him hold you and cried on his shoulder. He's also very princely, which is irritating."

"Princely," she echoed with a soft laugh. The sound was as sweet as honey. Until this very moment, Rowan hadn't realized how much he'd missed her. His heart swelled as he laced their fingers together and took half a step back to take in her new look. She smiled when she noticed his expression; he supposed it wasn't what she'd expected.

"What?" She smirked.

"You," he said, still eyeing her up and down.

"Me what?"

Instead of answering the question, Rowan moved closer. Their eyes locked as he reached behind her to untie her braids. She didn't protest as he freed her hair which fell messily down to her back. He tousled it and dipped his fingers underneath her chin, observing.

"There." He grinned. "That's my girl."

With an unreadable expression, she asked, "You don't like how I looked before?"

He was taken aback. She seemed to notice the slight change in his expression because her smile faded as well.

"I don't know," he admitted. "You looked beautiful. But so...untouchable."

"What does that mean?" she whispered.

He worked his jaw for a moment, trying to come up with the right words, but the ones that came out could not sound more wrong. "You looked like you belonged to that Prince."

Reyna tossed his hand away, and before he could speak, she had marched across the room to the window, facing away from him. He clasped his hands together at the nape of his neck while the voices in his head started cursing at him. Since the moment he'd got here, he'd made the girl he loved cry twice, held a knife at her throat, got slapped, and insulted her. This night had gone quite far from those romantic fantasies of his.

He strode toward her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but then he faltered and hid both hands behind his back. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm sorry if I offended you. That wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean, Rowan?" Her hair lashed the air as she spun to face him. "And why are you here? If you, just like everyone else, assume that I'm betrothed to Lance now, what is the point of showing up in my bed-chamber?"

He gulped and squeezed his hands into fists. His gaze fell to the floor. "Because I had to see you once before I go."

She stood rigid in front of him. When his eyes found her face again, she was pale with shock. "Going away?" Her voice trembled like it was going to break. "To where?"

"I don't know." He lifted a shoulder, his mouth twitched. "I can't stay. But if I disappeared without saying goodbye to you, I would regret it for the rest of my life."

Tears shone in Reyna's pale eyes as she moved closer and caught his face between her hands. "You are not leaving. I forbid you. You are not going anywhere!"

"Peach–"

"You're staying here with me. I'm never letting you go again."

Seeing her like this made him regret coming here. He should have known better, that once he'd seen her cry, he could never leave; he would spend the rest of his life going back to this moment and this room.

He held both of her wrists and his thumbs found her violent pulse. "You're...a queen, my love. Even saying that hurts me. You can't be with me. I'm not worried about me, but your people would turn against you if they found out about us."

Reyna's lashes fluttered as she blinked back her tears. He knew that she knew he was right. Her coronation was in a week. She'd be a monarch. But even with all the power in the world, she could not bend the rules to her own advantage without losing her people's loyalty. It was either him or Isolde, and he did not want it to be him.

"You can stay here in my court," she said, hopefully. "I'll make you a guard. You're better than most of them anyway. Then...then we can be together in secret. No one has to know."

'No one has to know.' That reality stabbed him like a knife, and he hated himself for allowing a tiny spark of joy before it occurred to him that her idea would ruin him if not both of them.

"I'd have to watch you marry a prince."

He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until she shook her head and retorted, "I won't. I'll never marry. I can't–" Her voice suddenly dropped. Her expression dimmed. "I can't carry a child, so a marriage would be pointless."

Something stirred uneasily within Rowan as he pondered over the words she'd just said. He thought he'd misheard it, and when he realized that they were real, he released a shaky breath and brought their foreheads together.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her cool cheek. "I'm so sorry, my love."

A bitter laugh caught in her throat. "You're not going to ask me how I know that?"

"You would have already told me if you wanted to talk about it," he sighed.

She didn't say it wasn't true. Instead, she fisted his shirt and buried her face into his neck. "Just don't go. I can't do this alone."

"Peach–" he began, but instead of pushing her away, he held her tighter. She started kissing his neck, her fingers tugging roughly at his hair, and soon their lips found each other and he could taste the salt in that fiery kiss. Her arms bound around his neck as he pushed her against the wall and tilted her head back with his fingers wrapped gently around her throat. She let out a soft sigh as he licked and nibbled at her flushed skin.

"Will you stay?" she murmured.

"Yes." His reply sounded like a promise he would regret later on, but right now, it was what they both wanted.

He kissed her, again and again, to make up for their lost time, and when he forced her away, she almost shouted, "What?!"

Breathless, he knocked on the breastplate of his armour. "Do you know how to take this thing off?"

Reyna rolled her eyes, hard, and shoved him back. Before he could utter a single word, she dragged him toward the bed, pushed him down and sank to the floor. He propped himself up to stare owl-eyed at her aggressively tearing off each piece and tossing it aside.

"How do you know this? Did you fight in the army, too?"

She shot him a glare. "No, I helped undress my father every time he came back wounded from a battle."

Once she'd opened the buckles and released the breastplate, she bunched up her skirt, pinned him down and mounted him as easily as she did Thunder. He swept his palms up and down her back, feeling the soft and expensive fabric that he'd never thought he'd get to touch. He'd never dreamed of kissing a Queen either, yet here he was.

"If you don't know how to wear armour, you probably don't deserve it," she said, a smirk peaking at the corner of her lips. Then she kissed him again. He pushed himself up to feel her as much as he could, but her dress was too big, it was swallowing them both.

He broke the kiss to say, "Can you also demonstrate how to take off your dress?"

She scowled at him, their mouths just a feather apart. "I don't know how. The maids helped me put it on."

"Do you love it?"

His question startled her a bit. She tilted her head and looked at him funny. "Well, not really. It's quite uncomf–Ah!" A shriek escaped her when he flipped them over and slipped off the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows just in time he picked up her dagger from the floor.

Realization seemed to dawn on her as she opened her mouth, yet Rowan did not wait. He ripped the first layer of her skirt and yanked it right off. She gasped, her eyes flying to his face, wide with shock yet darkened with lust. He waited for her to kick him off, but she just gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling with each struggled breath. And so he tore off another layer until her thighs were exposed. She was about to say something when one flick of the blade slid precisely down her bodice, cutting through the fabric and laces of the corset and her breasts sprung free, bouncing beneath his wild eyes.

She gaped at him, half angry, half impressed, then forestalled his speech by pulling his mouth back upon hers. He palmed her breast, trying not to think about her bruises and the freshly healed wound on her bicep. He hated to imagine the torture and grief she'd gone through.

"I might regret this later," she said into his mouth, and he smiled.

"One who doesn't know how to take off her own dress probably doesn't deserve it."

Reyna threw her head back and laughed for the first time tonight. As Rowan sat back to discard his shirt, she stared at him thoughtfully.

"What?" He leaned back down, arms cradling her head, their noses touching.

Her mouth curved lightly. "Not fair. I was looking forward to destroying your shirt."

"Life's not fair," he said before locking his lips to hers again.

The warmth of her ruined dress enveloped them as she worked quickly at his belt, and soon his trousers were off and there was nothing else keeping them apart. She curled her fingers into his hair as he kissed his way down her scarred body until he nosed along her hip bone and pressed his lips to her skin. She angled her hips up for him. She was already dripping as he took his time licking a line from her thigh to her pussy, before he sucked on her clit and pushed two fingers into her.

She moaned, holding his head firmly between her legs. His cock hardened at the sounds she made and the squish of her pussy around his fingers. He sucked and slurped at her, pushing her legs farther apart until she had one calf over his shoulder. She surprised him by grabbing her other knee, opening up for him.

He slid his free hand along the curves of her body and gripped at her breast, brushing his thumb over her hard nipple as he tried to press his tongue between his fingers, his nose rubbing around her clit. She dug her heel into his back and pulled him in tighter until all he smelled and tasted and heard was her.

He fucked her slow and slurped up her wetness for a moment before withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. She was gaping at him, eyes a little wet, a flush spreading across her chest, up to her ears.

"You did miss me," she murmured.

"So much," he told her and moved forward between her legs, pushing her knees up to her breasts and sinking into her easily. She half-sighed, half-moaned and craned her neck to kiss him. Her hands were on the back of his neck and his hands found her breasts between them. As they kissed, she moved her hips up to fuck up into him while he thrust down into her, trying to be as careful as possible for her wound might still hurt.

"I'll love you forever," she whispered into his ear before he caught her lips again and sucked at them. He knew she'd have to be able to taste herself on his mouth as her arousal was slick around him. He leaned down to suck at her nipples, biting lightly at her breasts.

"I'll love you forever, too. Forever and always," he said between thrusts, grinding his cock as deep into her as it could go as she encouraged him with her moans and nails scratching down his back. He slid his hand down to her pussy and rubbed along her clit, joining her fingers there. She thrust back against him immediately, fucking herself harder on his dick, her arse pushing against his groin.

He was mouthing along the side of her neck when she came. Her hips shook and her clutch tightened around him, and then he fucked her a while longer, just a little more, knowing this would ruin his only attempt to move on and leave her to the life he didn't belong to. He came, muffling his embarrassing groans in her shoulder as he spilled into her and fucked his release deeper with every thrust, until he only jerked with the little aftershocks and eventually slipped out.

The room quieted. The North wind blowing through the window gap cooled their damp skin. He threw the cover over them, still on top of her because she refused to let him go. He didn't want to go, either. What would happen to them in the morning? He did not want to wonder.

He was nosing at her throat when a knock on the door sounded, making them jump.

"Reyn," spoke a female voice, "Are you all right? Prince Charming told me you didn't feel well."

Reyna raised her head and shouted at the door, "I'm fine! Don't come in. I'm going to bed."

Rowan could hear the violent rhythm of her heart as she waited for a response.

"Goodnight then," said the voice, "I'll come back in the morning with your breakfast." Her shadow wavered under the door before disappearing.

Rowan chuckled and kissed Reyna's jaw as she placed a hand on her chest and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Was that your lady in waiting?" he asked.

"And my best friend," she replied.

"Well, your friend sounded like she hated the Prince. Maybe we could be great friends."

Reyna giggled and shook her head. "If she hates the Prince, she'd probably hate you, too."

Rowan wondered why; it seemed like there was more she'd like to add, but he supposed she was too weary for stories so he didn't question.

"Stay until morning," she demanded, twirling one of his curls around her index finger. "You can put the armour back on before my maid comes back. I'll take care of the rest. Please don't let me sleep alone. I'll have nightmares again."

Rowan raised his head to peer down at her face as he brushed his thumb over her half-closed eyelids. "Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."

He flipped over onto his back and gathered her to his chest. Reyna didn't sleep right away. She began to tell him everything that had happened since they'd parted. Some details he'd already known from the gossip spreading among her people, like the duel and Egon's death and how a witch had brought Jo back to life. Some other details shocked him, like the bargain she'd made with the witch, and the Prince, who had murdered his half-brother, asking for her hand in marriage to secure their alliance.

With a troubled heart, he watched her face in the fire glow until her tale came to an end and her breathing steadied. Eventually, the whistling of the wind and the crackling of fire lulled Rowan to sleep.