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treewielder · 5 months ago

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I spot her instantly across the ballroom. Her electric eyes are impossible to miss, even through the mass of mingling noblemen and women. Gemstones glitter in their jewelry, but they’re practically dull against the icicles of her irises. She throws her head back in laughter, sipping another swig from the gold glass in her slim fingers. She giggles as she leans in to the ear of a man in a fine burgundy suit and whispers something that earns his attention. But she doesn’t keep it for long. As soon as a third person enters the conversation, her eyes lock with mine for a single heartbeat, and then she whisks away behind the crowd.

The pianist’s melody flitters as I push my way through the crowd, holding up my own orange chiffon ballgown as I try not to trip on the ruffles of everyone else’s. My heels clack on the gleaming white marble below. It reflects the warm firelight of the chandelier dangling above. I track the royal blue of her gown as it flickers in and out of sight between the many party guests around.

Eventually, I step past the pillars of the ballroom beneath the stone-beamed bottom of the upper balcony. The hallway extends far, and the volume of the party fades more and more the deeper I divert from the event. Soon, I step through the dark wood doors of a study. Moonlight pours in through stained glass windows stretching up high. Bound books in colours rich and vast fill the shelves that separate long tables with turquoise-upholstered chairs. And there in the corner stands Amaranth in her gown. Black lace outlines each hem and drapes delicate off her shoulders. Her honey blonde hair swirls like sunlight down her back, falling into the pages of the book she reads as I approach her.

Without even looking back, she speaks, “You must find me awfully intriguing to want to leave such a lavish party to follow me.”

“I received an invitation to attend. How did you get in?”

“Why are you concerned with me?” she replies.

“There are kind people in that ballroom,” I state. “Whatever you’re planning, I urge you to consider their lives with compassion.”

She glances back, her eyes flicking over my body briefly before landing on my eyes. “Why must you always expect the worst from me? Contrary to your belief, several of those nobles out there actually find me quite charming.”

“Well, I couldn’t disagree with your charm.”

A slight smirk tugs at her lips, and she returns the book to its shelf. Then she saunters past me, the hem of her gown sweeping mine.

I spin around, desperate to maintain her attention. “Is it possible you might find me charming as well?”

The click of Amaranth’s heels halts, and she turns back around to face me, a curious grin on her face.

“Dear Cecelia, you are many things—cunning, intelligent…beautiful.” She steps toward me, filling in all the space that she previously made. “But you are rarely charming.”

Her eyes hold mine sharply, as if simply my looking away would shred me. As I realize the distance between us—or lack there of—my pulse begins to rise, and my voice shakes as I speak.

“You know, no one in the ballroom shares your rhythm. Perhaps you could spare me a dance?”

Her eyebrows raise at that as she leans in farther, forcing my back against the bookcase. My breath trembles as her hand hovers over my waist.

“I may allow you that…”

Her lips are only inches apart from mine, and I can feel her breath on me. It’s this game she plays, trying to outsmart me. But I have the upper hand.

But her hands—they run along my waist, down my thigh, pumping every vein with their spark. Her plum-painted lips tease mine, getting closer each moment before drawing back again. Then they pull in and stay there, gracing mine so gently I can feel my ribs aching for her to complete the action.

The cold ting of metal snaps me back to reality as she pulls her hand out from under my dress, my own dagger firm in her grip, removed from the holster on my thigh. The blade reflects light from the lanterns on the wall, gleaming as she tilts it against my throat.

“What a peculiar thing to carry at a ball,” she utters, her voice raspy as it teeters between a word and a whisper. “What were you planning to do with it?”

Her eyes press into mine, drawing more blood than the dagger which sits just above my skin. She’s deliberate with her pressure, enough to sting but not enough to cut. Beneath it, my pulse thrills.

Suddenly, she drops her hand, pulling her lips away in the same move. I breathe deep, regaining the air she took from my lungs.

With a devious smirk, Amaranth twirls my dagger between her fingers. “Thank you for the gift.” She turns around and heads for the doorway, stopping in it to glance my way once more “I’ll await you in the ballroom for that dance.”

• • • • •

Written by @heronofthetrees

A short prompt cause my friend Charley and I were talking about how we love thigh daggers, and I got this idea.

#enemies to lovers #romance #medieval #wlw #sapphic #fiction #short story #fantasy #renaissance #lesbians

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treewielder · 5 months ago

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