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I. She thought the smile on Valentine's face when he learned she could juggle was a bit too calculating - like he was thinking of how much money he could possibly make. But he seemed friendly enough, and when the constables showed up, didn't he try and stop them?
But now she's standing in front of the Dark Queen, and he's wearing the stupidest hat that was ever worn. She thinks she could hate him for this, and she yells, and she cries, which is so childish of her - and why is she crying anyway? It's not as if her mother in that dream was right. He'll never be her boyfriend. He'll never be anything but a useless coward, and she so regrets telling him anything about how she was grateful for his help.
She'll never say she forgives him. But doesn't that make her just like him?
II. The tower goes dark, darker, darkest - and it's over. She sinks against the wall, and she's still clutching the Mirrormask. She can't think of anything to say, because they've lost, and what can she do now? She'll never go home, and she'll never see Mum or Dad again, and she even misses the circus. She's so lost in that miserable thought that she doesn't see the light through the window, and it's Valentine who lifts her up and faces her that way.
But not before he sneaks the chastest, sweetest kiss onto the corner of her mouth - and even through the white greasepaint she can see the blush that's spread to his ears. He mutters something about saying goodbye, and she's going home.
Without him.
III. When was it that Valentine decided to sell her out?
Maybe in the borderlands, when she was dreaming about her mother. There were wanted posters there, right? Or was it earlier, even earlier than she thought possible, because couldn't he have known about the princess all along? Was it when she was taken to the White Queen?
Her thoughts ring around in circles, and when she looks up out of them, the mechanical soldiers have brought her to wherever they were going. It feels like they've walked down so many hallways, but the odd thing is, she knows all of them. It's just like Embassy Court, and it's a creepy feeling. Nothing else has been familiar in this world, so why this?
IV. The knock-knock joke that Valentine uses on the Sphinxes is funny. It's something like her Dad would have told her when she was younger to cheer her up. And while half her mind is dealing with getting them out of this situation so they don't get eaten (It's possibly a little less than half her mind. A tiny portion is wondering how that old lady's husband disappeared, and deciding that she doesn't really want to know right now.), the other part is thinking about her Dad, and what she's seen through the windows.
It's not her yelling at Dad. But it is, she can see that, it's the same face she sees when looking in the mirror. But it's not her, because she's here. And at first, she thought she was sleeping, but this isn't a dream anymore, it's too real.
So what is she doing here, and who's that girl?
V. The stairs feel like they go on forever. They have to rest, and it's very nearly terrifying. She doesn't hate heights - how could she, living in the circus where she learned to balance on the tightrope as soon as she could walk a straight line.
It's just that there was always a safety net, in the circus. Here, there's nothing but air and air and air and then, a long ways after that, ground. And Valentine, lovely blathering Valentine, is so easily talking about how the fall would kill you, not hitting the ground, because of air speeds and velocity, and before she can really think about it, she just shoves him a little closer to the edge.
He shuts up about tipping over the edge, but he starts chattering about falling down the stairs and breaking necks and spines and...
Maybe she'll just start climbing again.
VI. She has no idea what Valentine saw when he bit into that future fruit, but his reaction is certainly negative, and he refuses to talk about it afterward. Ever.
But really, what's so bad and wrong about being a waiter?
VII. The room they first put her in is covered with clock faces on the wall, but none of them read the same time. The offbeat ticks drive her near to the edge of her sanity, but then the mechanical dolls are rising up from the pillars and she's absurdly frightened.
Valentine used to be around to at least pretend to protect her. He's gone, never coming back, and she has no idea what to do.
So she just backs away from the doll that reaches out to her, and the song is so familiar, but are they singing, or is it playing from some hidden speakers? It's pretty and unnerving, and now she's backed too close to another doll - then the air sparkles.
It's in her eyes and it stings, so she wants to scrub it out, against all advice Mum ever gave her, but the song is still playing and when she opens her eyes half-way, half-lidded still, her vision sparkles like fine snowfall, and she's - what?
They dress her and make her up, and by the end, she remembers nothing of Valentine, and nothing of herself.
VIII. It's when the little hedgehog creature brings her food, and practically catches Valentine in her room, that she really realizes she likes Valentine much more than she should.
Because it's clear that the hedgehog's thinking about why exactly she'd have a boy in her room, like the old Princess used to, and Helena's first thoughts aren't about how that's not what it is and how dare he think that way, but about what Valentine would do if she were to suggest something of the sort.
She's very relieved, and yet somewhat disappointed, when Valentine just goes straight for the food.
IX. She watches herself in the window, and when that other her is kissing that boy, her anger is white-hot. How dare she, because that's not her body, that's not her right. The realization she can't do anything about is heartstoppingly hideous. She's helpless.
Her first kiss, and she isn't there for it. She'd never pick a boy like that, never ever He's horrible, and she says that out loud, and Valentine's hands on her shoulders are only halfway soothing.
Which is another heartstopping realization, and when Mum asks about Valentine, well... She's fairly certain she's going to fail at convincing herself that she's not just a little bit curious what it would be like to kiss Valentine.
X. He's not Valentine, she's absolutely sure. How could he be? So she leaves him a healthy deal of space, because Valentine was special, and she doesn't want anyone to take his spot.
Until they're juggling and she stops to show him how his hands should move. When she's done, he doesn't let go, and he leans in and his lips are soft on hers in the exact same way Valentine kissed her goodbye.
And when he pulls back, still holding her hands, he says, "Aren't you going to say welcome back?"