#ahhhh accept the horrors in the meantime

[serenescribe]

*slides 5$ across the table* yeah hi can i get a uhhhhhhhhhh…….. Silver is killed by Malleus during chap 7 BUT since it happened inside the dream realm, he’s actually still alive in the physical world but everyone thinks he’s dead (i hope this makes sense GJDGSJDHSJ)

i love ur writing so much, theyre always so 👌 perfection (i showed my gf, who knows nothing about twst, ur hollow moon fic and she spent half an hour researching goat horns bc of that one scene😭😭😭)

(accepts the $5) the way this prompt possessed me... groans. chapter 7 is killing me >>

fun fact! title of the google doc for this was just "oh no." anyways i hope you enjoy!! (also tysm for the compliments on my writing ;u; it really does mean a lot to me...!!)

It all happens so fast.

One moment, they’re all fighting Malleus side by side, pushing back the overblotted fae with the might of their combined forces. The three of them — Sebek, Silver, and Lilia himself — take the lead, standing on the frontlines, weapons and magic in hands. Everybody else, all their other peers they’d met throughout dream-hopping, stick to the backlines, providing support from afar.

And for that short while, it feels like they’re finally winning. It’s evident in all the little details; for all of Malleus’ might and power, there is a hint of desperation flickering across his face. His lips curl downwards, the green glow of his eye flaring a little brighter. His stance shifts, and the draconic phantom behind him moves too, adopting a defensive position. Dripping, scaley limbs curl around Malleus’ floating form, tails and wings forming a shield around him in a bid to protect him.

They’ve pushed Malleus up against a wall. They finally have a chance!

The next moment, however…

Everything goes miserably, horribly wrong.

A flash of light conjures in Malleus’ ink-stained palm — magic, streaked with oozing blot and simmering with a corrupt power unlike anything else. With the flick of a wrist, it hurtles towards them, towards him — towards Lilia, who, in that moment, freezes in place, limbs locking up. His mind screeches at him, what are you doing, you need to move, and with what little time he has, he readies a defence spell—

Only for a heavy weight to barrel into him, shoving him against the hard stone floor, a sharp pain flaring within his body.

And, pushing himself up from the ground, arms shaking as he twists his body around, Lilia can only stare in utter horror as Silver takes the brunt of the hit meant for him. Silver, whom Lilia knows is exhausted and worn down from an eternity of navigating dreams, his unique magic leading the way for them all. Silver, who insisted on fighting by his side despite Lilia’s insistence that he stick to the back.

Silver, who is thrown backwards, body collapsing against the stone floor in a steaming heap of smoking magic, clothes shredded and seared, sanguine stains splattering his pallid skin and pale hair.

His chest heaves, gulping down one last shuddering breath.

Silver stills, and does not move again.

And Lilia’s world collapses.

“SILVER!” he screams, a piercing shriek unlike anything that has ever emerged from his lips before. The sharp sound erupts through the air, slicing through the frenetic chaos of battle. In a flash, Lilia’s on his feet, surging forward, his heart pounding against his ribs like fists banging against the bars of a cell. Dread pulsates through him, clawing through his veins before clutching his soul in a vice grip.

Dropping to his knees, Lilia sweeps his son into his arms. His trembling fingers brush away loose strands of bloodstained hair, a single word spilling from his lips over and over. “No, no, nonononono—” He curls over Silver, his son, hands shaking him over and over, wrapped around his limp limbs. “Silver,” Lilia whispers, utterly broken. “Silver, please—”

The dreams that Malleus has spun for them, every minute detail painstakingly crafted and controlled by him, are a tricky, complicated mess. The rules of such fantasies are unknown to them. And yet, there is one rule that they have all stuck to upon ‘waking up’ and remembering the situation they’re in: they cannot die here. They cannot die in these dreams.

To die in these dreams would be catastrophic.

To die in these dreams would risk dying in real life.

Lilia trembles, fingers curling around the curve of Silver’s jaw, unable to tear his gaze away from his son. It feels as though he is suspended within a bubble with just the two of them; the chaos and carnage wrecking havoc around them have dulled to white noise, and Lilia can see flashes out of the corner of his eyes.

There is a faint shout — “STAY AWAY FROM THEM!” — accompanied shortly after by a cry of pain and the sound of a body slamming against a hard surface. Footsteps click closer, heard in a resounding clarity. Slowly, ever so slowly, Lilia raises his head. Twisting around, he narrows his eyes at the familiar figure standing behind him, a mocking smile painted across those void-touched lips.

“What a pity,” Malleus murmurs, voice like a rumble of thunder. He leans over, one arm reaching for Silver, only for Lilia to hiss, curling over his son — dead and lying in his arms — and swatting the man’s blot-dripping fingers away.

Malleus recoils, a brief flash of anger crossing his face. “How cruel of you. I care for Silver a great deal too, as you already know.”

“And yet you killed him,” Lilia spits, shaking under the weight of his anger, which flares within him and scorches his veins. With quivering hands, he moves Silver back to the floor with the tenderest of care — the last gesture of gentle mercy he shall show for a long while. And then Lilia rises to his feet, steeling his grief-stricken nerves as he turns to face Malleus properly.

The fae only arches an eyebrow, more annoyed than truly mad. “It cannot possibly be my fault that he chose to take a hit intended for you.” A nail scrapes against the underside of his chin. “Still,” Malleus muses, a sly smile slipping onto his lips, “it was a worthy sacrifice, do you not agree?”

With a screech, Lilia summons his axe and slams it into the ground, burying the sharp end of the metallic-green cleaver into the ground. “Don’t you dare speak of sacrifices,” he hisses, every word like a venomous poison, face contorted into pure fury. “You know nothing of what it means to sacrifice, Malleus. Nothing!”

“So you would rather render his sacrifice into a worthless, futile thing by continuing to stand against me?” Arms outstretched, Malleus cackles, a deranged smile splitting his lips. “Do you not understand, Lilia? It is pointless to stand against me.”

“Maybe it is,” Lilia retorts, yanking his cleaver out of the ground. “But do you truly expect me to stand down?” He feels tears pricking along his eyes, tears he chokes down in trade of some righteous rage. “You killed him, Malleus. He’s gone because of you.”

Here, in this realm of dreams, Lilia can at least use what Malleus had oh-so generously gifted him: his power, his strength, the vigour he’d had at the height of his former glory. And with his weapon clutched firmly in his grasp, Lilia lets out a blood curdling screech—

And dives back into the thick of war.

Silver startles awake.

He inhales, exhales, his chest rising and falling. There is something soft he is resting upon, a soft surface that tickles the back of his neck, the bare bits of skin exposed from the protective cloth of his dorm uniform. He can feel something cool and leathery wrapped in his hand, and as his gaze flicks to the side, Silver’s heart clenches at the sight of his father, a peaceful expression upon his slumbering face, gloved hand wrapped in Silver’s own.

For a moment, Silver allows himself to stare. To drink in every detail of Lilia’s peaceful expression, mouth parting slightly as he lets out a small sigh. His father rests on a bed of moss and flowers, a surface Silver realises extends to him and Sebek as well, the younger boy slumbering by Lilia’s other side. It is a kind anomaly amidst the cold stone of the thorn-filled lounge, something Silver realises could have only been magic-made.

It’s strange, Silver thinks. When he racks his brain, tries to think back to what he was dreaming of before he woke up, he comes up empty. It’s always been that way; he’s never been able to recall much of his dreams, save for hazy flickers that he grasps frantically onto, but can’t quite decipher.

What little threads of memories Silver can recall don’t make sense. He remembers encroaching darkness, exploring the valley, his father but younger, long hair swaying behind him.

Silver squeezes his eyes shut. His head is beginning to throb with pain.

The sound of humming fills the air, accompanied by the clack-clack of heels upon stone ground. Blinking his eyes open, Silver cranes his head to the best of his ability, limbs weighed down by an exhaustion he doesn’t understand. A shadow falls over him.

“Silver,” Malleus greets, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles down at him. His horns glow faintly with chartreuse hues, flames flickering from one slitted eye. Blot wafts around him lazily, dripping from his eyes, his arms, his claw-tipped fingers. “You have awoken.”

“L…Lord Malleus,” Silver chokes out, the words like sticky honey against his heavy tongue. Malleus merely hums his melody again, a song so familiar it makes his heart ache. The fae leans down, dipping onto his knees, and Silver can only shudder as one blot-covered nail comes to scrape against his cheek in a mockery of affection. “W-What…?”

“How fitting it is,” Malleus comments, nail tracing Silver’s jawline, from the dip below his ear to the tip of his chin, “that you wore yourself out by sacrificing yourself for Lilia.” Closing his eyes, Malleus’ lips thin. “Really, why is it that you all believe you will die permanently if you are to perish within my dreams? What a foolish notion. I only wish to give everyone the happiness they so dream of.”

He sacrificed himself for Lilia? Silver can hear his heartbeat quivering in his ears — ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump. Somehow… somehow, that feels right, even if he tries to scrape through his memories and comes up short.

The nail against his face pauses, before it pulls away. “How curious,” Malleus murmurs, a contemplative look in his eyes. He taps a finger against his chin. “The look on your face… Do you not recall what has occurred, Silver?”

“I—” Silver swallows, throat going dry. He knows… a little. He can infer enough to come to a conclusion, based on what he knows and remembers — that Malleus had sunk them all into a world of blissful, neverending dreams, and that somehow, they’d taken a stand against him. He tries to push himself up, only to fail. Silver curses his mysterious exhaustion. “I know enough,” he eventually says shortly.

“Do you?” Malleus gazes at him in a way that makes him feel small and insignificant. For a moment, Silver is five again, staring up at the tall prince as he visits him and his papa at their little cabin home together, gazing down at him, an inscrutable expression on his cold face.

There is a sigh, before Silver feels himself being shifted. His eyes widen, but there is little he can do as he is torn away from his father’s sleeping grip, their hands breaking apart as he is brought to rest on Malleus’ lap in a mockery of what he has done many times before.

Silver stares up at the fae. He is loath to call him his liege because the man above him is Malleus, but not the Malleus Silver knows.

Malleus stares back, lips breaking into an amused smile.

“Do you know the extent of how hard they are fighting, Silver?” he asks, voice low. “Even now, they still keep at their worthless battle, refusing to relent.” A sigh. “Do they not understand? It is pointless to resist.” For a moment, those eyes grow vacant, distant. “I only want what is best for everyone, Silver,” Malleus murmurs. “And yet, they all refuse to concede.” He shakes his head. “What an utter pity.”

“You want to lock us all within our dreams,” Silver says, hating the way his voice is weak. He swallows the lump in his throat, letting out a cough. “Why would we… not resist?”

“It is for all your sakes.” Malleus’ voice carries an edge of finality.

“Says who?”

A pause.

Rather than reply, Malleus simply hums again, displeased expression smoothening out into one that Silver cannot parse. One arm reaches past his shoulder, down his body, to the belts latched around his waist. Clawed fingers pluck the handle of his magestone baton, pulling it from its sheath.

And when Malleus turns it over in his hands, holding it above Silver’s face—

His blood turns to ice.

Blot. His magestone is clotted with it. Gone is the pristine, emerald surface of the gem, replaced instead by a dull grey, murky threads of ink swirling about inside it. Silver’s mouth parts, a gasp escaping his lips, eyes widening in his utter shock. “H-How?” he whispers, voice shaking. “I— That’s not possible!”

“Is it not, now?” Malleus replies easily. “You appear to be unaware of how much magic you exerted within everybody’s dreams. Or is your memory so bad that you do not even realise the potential of your own unique magic?”

His unique magic? He has one?

With his other hand, Malleus reaches for the gem, dragging one nail against the clouded surface, scraping against the hard stone, thoroughly coated with blot. “I wonder,” Malleus muses, lips curling into an amused smile, “how much more blot it would take to push you over the edge.

“After all,” he croons, pressing the cold surface of the gem against Silver’s cheek, causing the boy to shiver violently—

“Who would pass up the opportunity to call upon the help of their knight?”

[a-walk-in-silence]

A Princess By Any Other Name (Pt. 3)

Pairings: OC x Fem!Princess!Reader, Coleman!OC x Fem!Princess!Reader, Duke!Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Princess!Reader, Lord!Tom Holland x Fem!Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You’re just an ordinary girl, or so you thought. When your grandmother shows up and tells you otherwise, your entire world is thrown upside down as you work to find your place in this whole mess.

Warnings: Teenage angst, negative body image, cursing cuz SOMEONE just has to curse 24/7

AU: Princess Diaries

A/N: Hey it’s Part 3! Woohoo! We’re slowly moving along! Thank you so much for reading! ALSO I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’M SO SORRY ahhhh! ILY!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 4

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

Y/N/N - Your Nickname

Y/E/C - Your Eye Color

“You’re dating my teacher?” you shouted, jumping to your feet and staring at your mother in shock. “I thought you went to talk to Mr. Laurens about my grade! How do you walk out with a date?”

Your mother shifted awkwardly on the couch, giving you a small glance out of the corner of her eyes. Her lips were settled into a frown, and her eyebrows were furrowed. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long,” she mumbled awkwardly, her fingers fiddling together. “So when he asked me, I said yes. I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were falling from your mothers mouth. Using your hands to cover your ears, you started to shake your head. “This is social suicide. Everyone is going to look at me and be like, ‘your mom is dating the teacher!’ I will never have a normal life! Well, normal besides the stupid princess stuff.”

“I said I was sorry!” Clearly exasperated, your mother hid her face in her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you want me to do. Do you want me to call him and cancel it? I will. I will become a miserable hag if that’s what you want.”

A groan managed to escape your lips as you kicked at the back of the armchair right in front of you. “No... I just... Whatever. Date him... luckily it’s the end of the school year.”

“Y/N-” your mother started, but you were already heading towards the door, ready to leave for school. “Y/N Ramona Taylor. Stop right where you are.” You paused, your hand on the door knob to the front door. Every nerve in your body was on edge, muscles rigid as you fought every thought to either snap at your mother or simply ignore her and escape while you still could.

Slowly, you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yes, mother?” you asked, voice rough and filled with so much unbridled anger. “Is there any reason why I’m not going to school right now? I’m sure Joseph’s waiting outside.”

A sad pout was settled over your mother’s face as she came closer to you, practically cornering you against the door. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m sorry we never told you about your lineage, baby, I really am. And I’m sorry that Mr. O’Connor asked me out and that I said yes. But you know that I love you, and I don’t want to fight with you. Please, baby, don’t fight me on this. I want to be here for you. I am here for you.”

You sighed, uncurling your arms from around your torso. “I just- So much has happened and you never told me anything. 15 years, almost 16... and you couldn’t bother to tell me that I was a princess. You had so many chances and you never told me.”

“I wanted you to have a normal life. I wanted to paint. I didn’t want to have to spend my entire life walking one footstep behind someone.” She hesitantly lifted a hand, gauging your reaction for a moment before using her slim fingers to brush your unruly hair from your face, revealing your Y/E/C framed with your large glasses. “I wanted you to be a normal child that didn’t grow up in the public eye. I’m so sorry for hiding that from you.”

“I know, I just... I can’t... do this right now. I’m sorry.” You shifted away from your mother’s hand, shooting her a sad look. “Maybe later but... right now... I can’t.”

Your mother sighed, taking a step away from you. You glanced at her from the corner of your eyes, watching as her eyes fell apart. “I can’t do anything right, can I?”

Neither one of you spoke as the silence seemed to swallow the two of you whole. You felt so guilty for making your mom feel guilty, but you couldn’t find the words to reassure her. You couldn’t find the words to reassure yourself that she hadn’t done anything right. There were no words that could possibly fix anything.

A knock at the door drew your attention towards the brightly colored door. You quickly pulled open the door to find Benjamin standing there, his hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Y/N, are you ready to head to school?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled. You threw one last glance at your mother before you ducked through the door, closing it tightly behind you.

“Is everything alright?” Benjamin asked as he held open the door for you. You forced a smile and nodded to him, sliding into the backseat of the limo. His brows furrowed together but he didn’t question you. Instead, he closed the door and hurried around until he was situated behind the wheel. “I hope that whatever seems to be wrong will work itself out in the end.”

----

“Why do I have to do this?” you grumbled as you sat in front of the vanity mirrors. One was a head on mirror, while two were angled so that you could get a good look at your side profiles. Your eyes darted over your face before glancing back at your grandmother’s reflection. “If all I’m going to do is decline the throne, why do I need to look like a princess?”

“You don’t know if you’ll decline the throne yet,” was her only response. She turned around as a chubby man walked into the room, followed by two dolled up assistants. The man was around 5′2″, with a balding head and an overly kind face. Meanwhile, his assistants might as well have been model twins, with styled dark brown hair placed in the worlds most intricate bun ever. They’re perfectly tanned skin practically shone in the lighting of the room, making them appear as if they were ethereal beings of some sort.

The chubby man, who you assumed as the Apollo your grandmother had talked to you about, quickly grabbed your grandmother’s hand, shaking it with vigor. “Ah, my shining angel. Tell me, where is our angel-to-be?”

“I’m here,” you responded, turning around in the chair and meeting his eyes. A small scream came from the main the moment his eyes took you in in your entirety. You flinched at his loud outburst, folding in on yourself to try and make yourself seem small. You wanted nothing more than to hide away at the very moment as the judgmental eyes of Apollo and his lovely assistants watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

“Sorry, sorry for my outburst,” Apollo finally said, coming to stand right in front of you. You glanced up at him, eyes filled with mild horror as he took you in. “Hmm, I see an okay complexion, nice eyes... hideous eyebrows, though. Those will have to go.” He turned his head and smiled at your grandmother. “it may be a challenge but Apollo accepts!”

You wanted to mumble out incoherent words, muttering about how you didn’t want to be changed for the sake of this princess garbage. But, instead, you bit your tongue and let Apollo carry on with whatever it was that he was going to do to your face.

“Ma’am, you have a call with France in two minutes,” cut in the voice of Elenora as she peered into the room.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” Your grandmother stood and shot you an award-winning smile as she started to head towards the door. “I’ll leave the two of you be for the time being. I’ll have Elenora fetch me when I’m done.”

“Will I have to put up with Thomas?” you asked, turning back to look in the mirror. You looked positively defeated, though you weren’t sure if it was because of the makeover you were about to be subjected to or the fact that just the mention of his name from yourself managed to make an already miserable day ten times worse.

Thankfully, your grandmother gave you an answer that you could be happy with. “Not until later when we’ll be doing the dancing aspect of your training. For now, it will just be you, Apollo, his assistants, and Elenora. I’ll see you in an hour, my blossom.”

You only nodded, watching her as she left the room with a small nod to the person standing guard in the doorway. The door was closed behind her, and your eyes snapped back to Apollo who was now standing behind you, a brush in hand. “We will make you a work of art,” he responded, running the brush through your hair. However, halfway through, he got stuck. “My, what... thick hair you have,” he mumbled, trying to tug the brush free. You yelped in pain as your head was tugged back.

A loud snap filled the air, and your eyes widened as you saw the two halves of the brush now held in his hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry-”

“You broke my favorite brush.” He threw accusatory glares in your direction as he tossed the remains to his assistants who manage to toss the pieces with ease. A smile suddenly took over his face, causing your eyebrows to scrunch up together in confusion. “Do you have contacts?” he asked nicely as he removed your glasses from your face.

“U-Um, I have them, but I don’t really like-” You gasped as he easily snapped your glasses in two, dropping the pieces to the table. “You broke my glasses.”

“And you broke my favorite brush. We’re even, dahling.” He patted you on the head, before walking over to his assistants. “Call the mother to bring her contacts. In the meantime, lets start destroying those eyebrows. They look like Cousin Itt from the Addams Family and it simply won’t do.”

Your mouth dropped open at his very blunt comments about your eyebrows. You always knew that your eyebrows definitely weren’t your best feature, but Cousin Itt? Really?

“Maybe not a Cousin Itt. Maybe it’s little gremlins,” responded a snide remark from the doorway. There stood the very person your grandmother had assured you wouldn’t be here. However, there was another person beside him, a boy with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes that held so much kindness compared to his friend.

“Come on, mate, you heard her grandmother. She said to leave her alone until later,” said the new boy.

Tom merely rolled his eyes. “Come on, Haz. Look at her. There’s no saving her and making her look like a princess. Don’t you agree?”

A sudden hostility sparked in your eyes as you turned around, much to the annoyance of Apollo and his assistance. Although from this distance, they looked extremely blurry due to the loss of your glasses, you still managed to direct your eyes to the general vicinity of their owns. “Why don’t you bother someone else, Tommy? You’d think at this point that you’d at least have enough smarts in that thick skull of yours to knock this off and yet here we are with the same stupid and petty insults.”

Haz snickered in response, clapping Tom on the back. “Come on, mate. I think it’s best to leave her alone for the time being, don’t you think?” With that, the two boys left, and you sighed to yourself, rotating yourself as best as you could so that you were once against facing the mirror.

“Can we hurry this up?” you asked Apollo, who once again was trying to tackle your hair with different tools.

“With this hair? We’ll be done when we’re done.”

----

It took hours, around three or so, to finish. Apollo situated you behind two photos that he had snapped during the progress to show just how far you had come. “In just mere hours, how could I, Apollo, possibly take this monstrosity and turn it into a princess? Poor posture, bushy eyebrows, evil hair... And yet we have done just that. I give you Y/N Ramona Taylor Rothschild, Princess-to-be of Genovia.”

The assistants removed the photos that were blocking your face and revealed you to your grandmother, Benjamin, Elenora, Tom, and Haz. You blinked a few times before offering them a bright smile despite the fact that your contacts were now burning your eyes. This is why you didn’t particularly like to wear them, but now your glasses were no longer an option.

Your grandmother looked positively joyous, clapping at your new appearance. “You’re a vision of beauty,  my blossom.” Your eyes darted to the mirror where you studied your face, still unsure if this person could possibly be you. Your hair was much more managed, styled and straightened to be pin-straight, and your eyebrows weren’t their usual big bushy themselves. Instead they had actual shape and movement that complimented your face shape very well.

Glancing back at the group in front of you, you were surprised to see just how shell-shocked Tom was. His mouth was parted, his lips forming a small ‘o’, and he looked as though he was at a loss for words. Haz simply looked smug, as if he knew exactly what was going through his friends head.

“Tom?” you questioned, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. “What’s your problem? You’re going to catch flies.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, because a sour look settled on his face. “You’re still not a princess,” he responded, huffing in annoyance. “No amount of makeup can erase that awful personality of yours.”

“Thomas Stanley Holland!” your grandmother finally snapped, turning to glare at the curly-haired boy. “While you are staying here at the Genovian embassy, I must implore you to restrain yourself and keep your comments to a minimum. If you can’t do something as simple as that, I will have to ask your Uncle to see you back to Genovia. Am I making myself clear?”

He only grumbled in response. Clearly, your grandmother seemed to accept that as an answer as she turned her attention back towards you, a small smile settled on her elegant face. “You look simply marvelous, don’t you agree Harrison?”

Harrison? Was that Haz? Your eyes followed her eyes and, sure enough, she was staring at the blonde-haired boy with the kind blue eyes. “I think she’s beautiful.” His voice was like velvet, smooth and surprisingly soft. “Definitely a princess.”

“Umm, Harrison? Who... are you, exactly?” Your mind was drawing a blank, still not sure who this new person was quite yet.

“I’m Harrison Osterfield. You can call me Haz. My father is the Duke of Kenilworth, where I myself will be the Duke of when I’m of age.” He smiled, and there was something about it that just made the whole room lighten up. “I’m also Tom’s best mate, despite his rude attitude towards anything and everyone.”

The blonde-haired boy’s comment made you laugh just a little bit. The teasing nature of Haz made you want to smile. However, the thing that really brought you to fits of giggles was the fact that Tom was now glowering at his supposed best friend due to the fact that he was on the receiving end of his teasing.

“Y/N dear,” your grandmother chides, bringing your giggles to a stop. “A princess never giggles uncontrollably.”

A throat was cleared, bringing everyone’s attention to Benjamin, casually leaning in the doorway. “Are we ready to move on with lessons? We have about an hour and a half before dinner is served.”

Everyone in the room then stood up, as if choreographed to do so. You looked down at your feet, unsure of just how well you’ll do while dancing. Your fingers twiddled together, massaging your thumbs over the back of your hands. The huge party of people followed Benjamin to the ballroom with you taking up the rear with Harrison.

“You know,” he mumbled, nudging your shoulder with his own, “Tom’s really not a bad guy. Difficult as bloody hell, but not bad. Just gotta get to know him, ya know? He’s a real softy when he’s not a righteous ass.”

You giggled softly, more so to yourself than anything. “Yeah, well what about you? Why didn’t I meet you yesterday?”

He chuckled, and the two of you slowed down even more to talk. “I just got here today, actually. I’m not in town for long but I’m here to help Tom. ‘Pparently his uncle’s been having a riot trying to maintain his temper the past couple days. I’m backup, I suppose.”

“Y/N, dear,” your grandmother called from further up, “do hurry. We haven’t got all day.”

“Yes grandma.” You sighed before offering Harrison a big smile. “So, what do I call you? Harrison or Haz?”

“Usually my friends call me Haz. Since I’m sure we’ll be great mates, you can call me Haz.”

You laughed a little, pushing against his shoulder with your own. “Yeah, okay. Haz.”

The two of you finally arrive at the ballroom, where your grandmother is standing in the middle with Benjamin. The entire room was circular, with arching ceilings that went up three stories. The walls were accented with gold,  The two are standing close, talking quietly among themselves. Benjamin’s eyes land on the two of you, and he clears his throat and takes a step away.

Your grandmother turned to look at you and smiled gently. “Ah, there you are my blossom. So, as for your dancing lessons, I figured it would be best to pair you up with Thomas because neither of you have had the chance to do much, if anything at all, in the sense of ballroom dancing.”

Your eyes darted across the room to Tom, who was sitting with a scowl on his face. His dark eyes suddenly landed on you, and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor of ballroom. You awkwardly shifted off your feet, but a calming hand was placed on your shoulder. “It’ll be good,” Haz mumbled, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “Remember, he’s not a complete ass.”

“Now, you two should watch Benjamin and I as we demonstrate a traditional Genovian dance. It’s been a waltz and a tango,” she instructed, giving a nod to Elenora who was by a speaker.

“Like a wango?” you questioned, causing a snicker to come from the blond-haired boy standing to your right. Tom merely rolled his eyes while your grandmother gave you a stern look.

“Wango is not the proper term. It’s a traditional dance. Now pay attention,” she chided. Once again, she nodded to Elenora who started the music. A gentle melody drifted through the air, elegant in sound.

The two started to dance together, moving with pure poise and energy throughout the middle of the room. Every move was calculated and beautiful in execution. It was all so smooth, and you were questioning if you’d ever be able to move with as much grace as the two.

The song came to an abrupt stop as your grandmother and Benjamin separated and walked away from the middle of the room. “Now it’s time for the two of you start dancing. We’ll keep this up until the two of you are able to dance with at least some semblance of grace that is expected of nobility.”

Your hands clenched and unclenched several times as you approached the middle of the room on uneven feet. Tom once again rolled his eyes before joining you in the middle of the room. His posture was stiff, and his eyes were filled with annoyance. He impatiently held out a hand to you, which you cautiously took.

His hand came to rest on your waist, and you couldn’t help but shift awkwardly. Your hand that wasn’t currently clasped in his own went to his shoulder. The two of you were forced close, your breaths mingling. You awkwardly coughed, glancing down at your feet.

“As much as I’d rather you not stomp on my feet, it’s not proper etiquette to stare at your feet,” he grumbled impatiently. Your cheeks felt hot under his scrutiny, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to look back up and see his annoyed brown eyes. “Y/N, for chrissake-”

You looked back up at him, your Y/E/C eyes meeting his chocolate brown eyes. His rude comment seemed to pause in his throat for a moment, and he looked incredibly lost. His eyes searched your own, and you wondered just what it was he was looking.

The sound of music pulled you both from your trance, and the two of you looked away momentarily, both clearly flustered. A few moments passed before Tom started to lead the two of you in your wango. The two of you managed to make it a few steps before your foot accidentally misstepped and caused you to walk all over his feet.

“Sorry!” you quickly shouted, staring at him with wide eyes. His brown eyes looked at you with pure hatred, and it caused you to shrink away. “I-I’m sorry. Really, I should just watch my feet and-”

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Let’s just finish this damned dance and get out of here.”

And so the two of you awkwardly moved through the dance. You managed to step on his feet a total of fifteen more times before you somehow managed to find your footing.

“My feet are going to be horrendously bruised tomorrow,” he muttered, but there was something light in his voice. It was almost as if he made a joke.

“Was... was that a joke?” you asked, giggling when his cheeks flushed. “Just be happy that we’re almost done, Tommy.”

He groaned, shaking his head in annoyance. “The damn nickname... why are you so insistent on using it?”

You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder. He gave you a weird look but didn’t say anything of it. “It’s a fitting nickname for you,” you responded simply. The wango the two of you had been attempting came to a halt as the two of you simply swayed to the music.

“Ahem,” your grandmother said, causing the two of you to jolt away. “You two were doing lovely. I simply wanted to try a spin before we all head out to dinner.” Behind your grandmother were Benjamin and Haz, who were giving each other knowing smirks of amusement. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before looking at Tom.

“I, um...” You fumbled over your words, unsure of what to do. “I’ve never done a spin before and I feel like I’m going to hurt someone.”

Tom chuckled from behind you, and you gave him a weird look. He never laughed unless in your expense. “I doubt you can hurt me. It’s a spin.”

You were very sure that if there was some way to fuck this up, you were bound to do it. Still, you went along with his reassurance and took his hand that he held out to you. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Twirl into his chest, dearest,” your grandmother taught.

You pursed your lips, giving Tom a look to tell him how sorry you were going to be. After taking a deep breath, you spun into Tom-hard. “Ah shi-” Tom instantly let go of you and walked away momentarily, holding his stomach that your elbow had gone flying into. “Jesus...”

Your hand flew to your mouth, and shock wrote itself across your face. “I’m so sorry! Tom-”

“Slower next time, please.” His hand drifted to where you had elbowed him and he groaned. “Much slower... You’re not a damned tornado.”

“I’m sorry, I told you I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so sorry, can I help you? Do you need ice or-” You were rambling. Thankfully, Tom started to talk over you.

“Just... Let’s go again. Go. Slow.” He walked back over to you and, once again, held out his hand to you. You cautiously took his hand, giving him a weird look. He only gave you as reassuring as a smile that he could possibly muster. You took a deep breath and spun into his arms. Your back eased into his side as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

He looked mildly pleased that you managed to not bruise his side with your spin. “You did it. Congratulations.” His arms suddenly fell from you and to his sides. “Is it time for dinner now?”

As if on a cue, a butler came bustling into the room and whispered something to Elenora before escaping through the doors. She smiled and came to her feet, looking at everyone in the room. “Dinner is ready,” she said, leaving after the servant to lead the way to the dining room.

As everyone started to filter out, you turned to Tom, ready to ask him about why he was suddenly acting different. However, he was already following after everyone else. You sighed, wrapping your arms around your torso before following after the group. Your mind was on that dance, so aware of the way he held you so tightly and how you two somehow fit decently together.

Sighing, you forced those thoughts away. No, you didn’t like him, and he didn’t like you. Liking him was a stupid idea. He was too big of a jerk to possibly be anything more than a maybe friend.

Just a friend.

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