Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Ellie notices is that it’s pitch black. Except, that is, for some tiny little circles of light that seem to beckon her, separated by a sort of ring of heavy metal that sits in her eyeline. As she presses a palm to the metal the cold stings her skin, a sort of dampness coating the whole thing.  

It’s not a bit like home at all. Andalasia, with its forests and cottages and little blue streams and flowers that grow everywhere like something from a perfect storybook. Okay, there’s the odd ogre and giant that she has to dodge every now and again, but she’d prefer that to the prison of nothingness that she’s managed to end up in.

How she got here, she doesn’t know. One minute it was her wedding day, about to be the happiest day of her life. Princess Tia had been waiting inside the chapel, no doubt looking as beautiful as the first (and the only) time they’d met. Then she’d been beckoned over to a wishing well by a haggard old woman with a witchy voice, Ellie had closed her eyes, wished for her long-awaited happily ever after…

And, somehow, now she’s here. Cloaked in darkness and her extravagant white wedding gown, cold and frightened and fretting because goodness , Tia is going to think she’s such a mess if she’s late to her own wedding day. She was so perfect when she’d met her and Ellie had been such a state- high up in a tree, trying to collect some sturdy twigs to fashion into a hoop skirt for a vision of a dress she’d had that had appeared to her in a dream. It had been going perfectly until she’d lost her footing and fell, screeching as she tumbled to the ground only to be caught by the Princess who’d been out riding her horse. And it had been love at first sight, of course. Exactly how fairytales work.

She needs to get back to continue the perfect love story she’s begun, so Ellie does the only thing she can- decide to try and find her way back home, pushes hard against the metal until it lifts up and she’s able to crawl out to whatever lies on the other side. 

What she finds makes her want to crawl back into the darkness again. 

The first thing she notices is that everything is covered in a wet sheen of rain that’s falling in torrents from the darkness above; except unlike in Andalasia, where the streets seem to glitter after a rainfall, the pavements look dirty and almost slimy. Tall buildings box in her surroundings on either side, but instead of the quaint, warm brown bricks like back home, their actual colour is hidden by sets of green and pink neon lights. Normally Ellie loves pink, but this shade has a foreboding undertone; the harsh, acrid colour seems to hint at a sour experience to come. 

Sure enough, she turns around to see two white, circular lights charge towards her, bearing down on her with a blare of terrifying noise that makes her launch herself out of wherever it is she’d been, tumbling across the hard scrape of ground and onto the wet, grey slabs that line where she’s just been spat out. 

It turns out that the lights seemed to have belonged to a sinister-looking metal cuboid on wheels, which looks to be a sentient carriage without a horse to pull it. The sight horrifies her, but not as much as the scream from across the road. As her eyes snap wide and she follows it to find the source, she’s confused by the roar of laughter that follows it as a group of girls all stagger and sway their way down the street in high heels and tiny skirts. There’s a swagger of young men going the other way, and one of them pauses, bends double and then retches, vomit spilling out onto the street.

Ellie claps a hand over her mouth, shock, disgust and terror all gripping her in a cold iron fist. She needs to escape the things she’s seeing, things that would never happen in Andalasia. Deciding she should go in the opposite direction of wherever the vomiting people are, Ellie picks up the skirts of her wedding dress as she half-walks, half-jogs her way down the street, intending to find somewhere that looks cosy and comfortable where she can dry off and maybe find out where in the world she is. 

The only thing is that the street she’s walking down seems to go on for miles, and there aren’t really any cosy and comfortable options. There are countless buildings that seem to be filled to the brim with people all singing or shouting or swaying like twigs in the breeze outside as they try to stay upright, who look at Ellie as if she’s got two heads instead of one. The rest of the buildings seem to be part of some long, permanent market, and they’re all closed anyway, despite her trying a few doors. 

With every set of stares and every closed door, Ellie finds it harder and harder to swallow down the panic that bubbles in her throat like a sickly black treacle in response to all her unanswered questions. How did she get here? Why is she here? And, probably her biggest question, where even is she? It’s freezing and wet and she can feel all her wedding makeup running down her face in the rain. For a second she’s glad Tia isn’t here to witness her in such a state, before that thought vanishes and is immediately replaced by a longing to be with her again. She thinks about the song they sang to each other when they first met, begins to sing it to herself under her breath in a vague attempt at optimism as her feet tread the grimy paving slabs. 

“ I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss…and a Princess I hope comes with this…that’s what brings ever-aftering so happy…”

“Here, you!”

A shout from across the street jerks Ellie’s head in a different direction, and her gaze falls on a group of teenage boys sitting on a set of steps, cans of something in their hands and tinny music playing out of something she can’t see. They’re intimidating, but they’re also the first people Ellie’s seen since she arrived here to address her, so she approaches them slowly and carefully. 

One of them points aggressively at her and throws a question her way. “How come you’re in a weddin’ dress? Are you meanty be a bride?”

“Are you a corpse bride? Ya spooky bitch! Singin’ tae yersel n’ that!” another of them shouts at her, in response to which they all fall about laughing. 

“Aye, are you a Disney character? Ya Goofy bastard!”

Ellie doesn’t like the avenue the conversation is turning down. She’s not some mild-mannered wallflower, and if she was anywhere else she’d give them all a piece of her mind. But she’s going to be a Princess, so she shouldn’t really entertain the idea of getting into a shouting match with teenagers. Besides, she still has no idea where she is. 

She clears her throat before she replies to them. “Actually, I’m not a Princess- not yet, anyway- but I am a bride. I’m meant to be getting married today to Princess Tia, but I can’t find my way home. Do any of you know the way back to Andalasia?”

The boys don’t really appear to be listening to her, instead taking a large swig out of the cans at their feet. One of them lets out a shout of glee, voice soaring over her as he screeches. 

“Aw, boys, are yous hearing this? She Disney know her way home!”

The hyena-like laughter the comment receives is in keeping with the way they remind Ellie of pack animals, and she elects to continue scurrying along the street even if they were probably her best chance of finding her way home she’s encountered so far. 

She can feel her hair frizzing like static in the damp, her dress growing heavier and heavier the longer she walks through the rain. She has to find somewhere to shelter before either her hope or motivation dies completely, but there’s still nowhere that appears to be open and there’s still nobody that looks as if they want to talk to her. 

By now, lesser individuals would be lying in the street and letting fate decide their next move. But not her. Not Ellie Diamond. She’s waited for a true love for what seems like forever, and now that she’s found Princess Tia she’s not letting her own wedding day be thwarted so easily. Although the sky seems to grow darker with each passing minute, and the moon and stars with their kind magic are hidden under thick dark clouds. It’s not a sight that gives Ellie much comfort.

A little way along the street, however, her heart lights up when she finds a map sticking out of the ground. There’s a big yellow pin that says “YOU ARE HERE”, but as Ellie looks closer, “here” may as well be anywhere on the map. There are endless street names and words she can barely decipher and can’t pronounce. The whole place seems to be built on a giant grid, and it leaves Ellie more confused than she was when she was merely roaming the streets.

As she trudges away, one of the few remaining matches of tenacity that flicker in her heart is snuffed out unexpectedly. But as she hangs her head, a reflection in a puddle ahead makes her stop and do a double-take; an alleyway with brightly-lit signs for various inns and hostelries framing it, with endless strings of gorgeous twinkling lights acting as a ceiling before a stone archway as a sort of door at the end. Entranced, Ellie walks underneath the lights and through the archway, her heart lifting when she finally sees something that doesn’t immediately horrify her. 

It’s a square, with a grand-looking columned building standing in the centre and more fairy lights rigged over the top where the rooftops meet the sky. The warm glow they cast over the wet pavement makes the street sparkle gently, and each new raindrop seems to fall as liquid gold. For the first time since she’s arrived in this strange new place, Ellie feels safe. 

Rain growing heavier and, subsequently, her dress doing the same, Ellie moves to sit on the steps under the shelter of the building’s huge columns, giving herself a moment to think after all her constant walking. She needs a plan, she thinks to herself decisively, and rests her head in her hands as she conjures one up. 

Step one- find out where she actually is.

Step two- find out how to get home.

Step three- marry Princess Tia and live happily ever after. 

Step one should be easy enough- all she needs to do is ask somebody- but the streets seem to be completely void of people. Anyway, after her earlier interaction with the gaggle of teenagers her guard is up higher than it had been before. Eyes scanning the square for friendlier-looking faces, her gaze rests on a little sign halfway up the building on the corner. 

“Royal Exchange Square,” she reads out loud. Her stomach knots. What if she’s somehow been magicked here on purpose? What if she’s been enrolled in some strange exchange programme, if Tia decided she didn’t like her after all and wanted to swap her for a different bride?

Exhausted and confused, Ellie groans, finally letting her emotions take over her as she lets a tear fall from her eyes and hugs her knees to her chest. She’s never usually one to wallow in her own misery, but she wants more than anything to be able to just wish upon a star and have all of this be a horrible nightmare. She supposes the belief that she held in the world working like that has been squashed ever since she emerged from that hole in the ground. Besides, the stars are obscured by the fairy lights. The same lights which once seemed so cosy and welcoming now make her feel trapped in some sort of net, reduced to nothing more than a landed fish.

A sudden loud shout from across the street lifts Ellie’s head from her own lap. 

“Hawl!”

It’s a strange one; rather animalistic and almost aggressive, and it changes the tide of Ellie's emotions from despondent to defensive all over again. Despite looking around, she’s initially not too sure where the sound comes from until a figure appears from across the street. Ellie’s fingers grip the edge of the step a little tighter because, for want of a better word, this person looks terrifying. Their dress appears to be made up of a white shirt splattered with blood, and a pinafore made of flayed skin. Their black gloves and black tights go with their black bouffant hair, which has a few white streaks through it. Nothing about their appearance reassures Ellie except from the smile that’s on their face, which she supposes makes their red painted lips and red shadow around their eyes look a little less disturbing. 

Too paralysed with uncertainty to move, Ellie watches as the figure sways across the street in their heels, their footing a little unsteady as they come to a stop in front of her and an almost proud expression on their face at the fact they’ve made it this far. 

“Here, your costume’s fuckin’ brilliant, by the way. I had to come and tell you, it’s so good. I never saw you at Cherry’s. Did you even come from Cherry’s? Fuck, I’m drunk.”

Ellie, for her part, is silent, simply staring at whoever it is that’s in front of her, still attempting to work out if they want to harm her or help her. At least, she supposes, they’re the first person to offer her a smile, far less actually talk to her. So she focuses on deciphering the questions, each more confusing than the last. 

“Aw, thank you. But it’s not a costume. It’s my wedding day, and I’m meant to be marrying Princess Tia. Only I got lost, and I’m not really sure how,” Ellie pouts, still at a loss as to what’s happened to her. 

Then an idea strikes her- she could skip immediately to step two of her plan- and she perks up a little, feeling her own eyes twinkle as she looks up at the stranger. 

“Do you think you could help me find my way back home?”

The stranger’s eyes blink heavily, then jolt back open alarmingly. They put a hand to their cheek and then drag it down, seemingly completely exhausted. “In this state? I don’t think I can find my own way home, babes.”

“Oh, goodness,” Ellie sighs, thwarted before she could even get off the ground. Then, she remembers something else the stranger asked her. “What’s Cherry’s? Is that a magic tree?”

The stranger bursts out laughing without any warning; a warm, rich sound that goes some way to assuage Ellie’s fears. That’s not the laugh of somebody evil, even if they do seem to be covered in blood and other people’s organs. So Ellie forgives them for laughing at her, especially when they’re still smiling as they calm down.

“A magic tree? Fuckin’ hell. You’re out your tree, hen. Christ, I need a seat,” they ramble out, wobbling a little as they unceremoniously tumble down next to Ellie on the cold, wet, stone step. They seem to organise themself before stopping and turning to meet Ellie’s gaze. “So you weren’t at Cherry’s. Wait, it’s your wedding day? What the fuck are you doing sitting staring at the Duke of Wellington on your wedding day?”

Ellie follows the stranger’s gaze to see a green statue of a man on a horse, complete with an orange and white cone on his head. It’s just yet another sight that baffles her.

“I don’t know,” Ellie sighs, thudding her head into her hands. “All I remember is a little old woman telling me to make a wish into a well and all of a sudden I’m in this...terrifying place.”

The stranger lets out a loud burst of derisive laughter. “ Terrifying place! It’s Glasgow, for fuck’s sake, no Alcatraz! Although I s’pose you struck it lucky landing up in the city centre. You could’ve ended up in Possilpark. Now that’s a real shitehole.”

Ellie just blinks. Half the words coming out of their mouth are awfully confusing, and she always seems to have to take a moment to process what they’ve said after they’ve said it. As she does this, one fact sticks in her mind. “I’m in a place called Glasgow?”

“Yeah, babes, this is Glasgow. Greatest city in the world! Haud on, you don’t know where you are? Fuck three sheets to the wind, you’re the whole notebook,” they blow a huge puff of air out through their cheeks in disbelief. 

Their accent isn’t a million miles away from Ellie’s own, now she comes to think of it. Okay, it’s a little bit more brash, and broad, and loud, but it’s similar. Maybe she’s not as far away from home as she first thought. 

“I’m Ellie, by the way. Well, Eleanor Elizabeth Diamond, but everyone just calls me Ellie. Princess Ellie soon, I guess,” Ellie remembers her manners and sticks out her perfectly-manicured hand, which the stranger takes firmly, shaking it with enthusiasm. 

“Lawrence Chaney, babes. No a Princess, but I do happen to be a myth and a legend, so that’s a start,” they smile cheerfully. Their friendliness and warmth lighten Ellie’s heart, making her think that maybe there is something good in this bleak and dismal city after all. 

“So how are you getting home? Can you get an Uber back?” Lawrence continues, hitting Ellie with another new piece of linguistic confusion. 

“Uber? Is that your horse’s name?” 

Lawrence holds her gaze for a second before giving a strange sort of splutter. “You crack me up, Princess Ellie, you really do. Where’s your phone? Or has it died?”

Loath to say anything else to make Lawrence laugh at her, and in lieu of making herself look like the biggest dimwitted airhead the world’s ever seen, Ellie just nods blankly, guilt settling in her stomach at the lie. What in the world is a phone anyway?

“Maybe I can get you sorted with an ride home or something,” Lawrence continues, bringing out some form of rectangular amulet that lights up in their hand. Perhaps they are a little bit magical after all, and Ellie’s heart lifts at the prospect of getting home. “Where d’you live?”

“Aw, a little cottage in the kingdom of Andalasia,” she says earnestly, watching as Lawrence snorts at her while she stares at the little light-up object in her hands. 

“The kingdom of Andalasia. Is that a kingdom in the same way Fife is a kingdom?” they chuckle. Ellie doesn’t really know how to answer the question, so she elects to ignore it. Lawrence’s fingers tap at the object in their hands before they turn to Ellie again. “What’s the address?”

Ellie frowns. “Um. I’m not sure, really.”

“Christ, you better take about thirty paracetamol when you get home or else you’ll be fighting for your life tomorrow,” Lawrence shakes their head. “If I just put Andalasia, that should be alright, yeah?”

Ellie nods quickly, her hopes rising at the thought of getting home. She’s heard stories of a Princess a few kingdoms over whose life was changed by a fairy Godmother and a carriage made out of a pumpkin. Maybe Lawrence and the magical amulet in their hands is the beginning of her own fairytale. 

Her heart sinks, however, when their face screws up. “Well, the only place that’s coming up is a hairdressers’ in France and there’s nae fuckin’ way that’s possible. Unless you remember getting a Ryanair flight.”

Ellie holds in a pained sigh, resists the urge to smother her face in her hands. Why is everything they’re saying so downright bewildering ? She wishes she could be back in her own little cottage with her animal friends, sewing a dress or baking a pie or making a crown out of twigs and wildflowers. The thought of everything being so far away and the kingdom not even appearing on a map in Glasgow overwhelms her, and before she knows it she’s trying to blink back the tears that’ve re-appeared in her eyes. Before she can attempt to hide them, Lawrence has turned away from the object in their hands and is looking at Ellie with concern. 

“Right, that’s it. I’m no leaving a beautiful girl in a wedding dress sitting on Queen Street in the pishin’ rain on a Tuesday night. You’re coming back to mine and you can stay on the sofa.”

Ellie feels her cheeks grow pink at the compliment, but she barely has time to focus on it when she’s being offered a roof over her head and a friendly face in a completely unknown city. The smile that breaks out on her face hurts her cheeks, the relief that floods her chest almost cracking her ribs. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

After that, it only takes a few taps of Lawrence’s magical amulet to summon one of those metal carriages on wheels, which seem a lot less frightening when she’s safe inside one and not having it speed towards her with its blinding lights. 

“I’m only in the Gorbals, so it isny far, but I didn’t fancy our chances walking what with you in that dress and me seven cider blacks deep,” Lawrence explains. Ellie picks out some threads of their sentence and tries to nod along as if she understands.

She wishes she did understand.

The carriage stops outside a building that’s simultaneously tall and long, stretching right down the street with many more metal carriages pulled up outside it. Ellie emerges in front of it, taking in all its little windows with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

“You live here?” she gasps, perplexed when Lawrence shoots her a displeased look. 

“Aye, I do. And I’ll thank you to drop the judgemental tone,” they grumble, swaying towards one of the many doors and turning a small key in its lock before pushing it open. Ellie feels guilty at the potential of having offended them, and she shakes her head as she attempts to squeeze through the doorframe in her hoop skirt. 

“Oh, no- sorry, that’s not what I meant,” she explains. “It’s just such a massive building. Is this your palace?”

Lawrence turns around from their position unlocking another door further down the hall, and their narrowed eyes turn wide after a second. “Fuckin’ hell, you really arny joking, are you?”

Ellie shakes her head emphatically, and Lawrence gives a small laugh. “No, babes, this isny my palace. I don’t own all of it. This is just my block of flats. This is me here.”

They put their shoulder to the door and jolt it open, and Ellie follows them as quickly as she’s able. As she walks into the room, she finds it set out a little like her own cottage at home, if only with a few more unknown artefacts adorning the walls. As Lawrence turns on the lights, she spots a picture in a golden frame- Lawrence, their lips pressed to the cheek of a skinny girl with straight, blonde hair and a dazzling smile. As Ellie turns around and makes to ask more about it, she’s alarmed when she sees Lawrence tearing their hair off their head, only to reveal a set of lush purple locks that tumble down to rest on their shoulders. 

“I’ve never seen anyone with purple hair before. It’s gorgeous,” Ellie admires, Lawrence’s reaction hidden as they disappear into the darkness of another room. 

“The kingdom of Cafe Andaluz must be some fuckin’ boring place, then,” they say, before the little room is filled with light. 

It’s sage green in colour, with a huge battered-looking brown leather settee in the middle that sits in front of a black, shiny rectangle propped up on a table. There’s a small dining table and chairs in a little alcove beside a window, and a colourful rug on the floor with a few splatters that Ellie decides not to ask about. The whole room is littered with little bits and bobs, only a few of which she’s able to identify, and the sheer volume of things that are novel to her makes Ellie feel quite lightheaded. 

“It’s no much, but it does me fine,” Lawrence says, their tone somewhat sheepish as they grab a woollen blanket from a basket at the side of the room. “I’m gonny go get a pillow and some pyjamas for you if you wanty just get comfy. Be back in two tics.”

Ellie perches herself on the edge of one of the brown leather cushions, and all at once her tiredness hits her like a wave. She rubs at her eyes to stop them from closing, tries to focus on the little details of the room she’s in. Another picture in a frame shows Lawrence with a big smile on their face and their arm around someone with long, dark hair and wide brown eyes in a tight red dress that Ellie doesn’t think she’d wear if it was the last piece of material on earth. A framed piece of paper beside it reads “Legum Baccalaureus” and there’s some sort of crest on it too which looks royal.

“I didn’t know you were royalty,” Ellie points to it as Lawrence comes back holding a pillow and a little bundle of fabric. Lawrence follows her finger and snorts. 

“Have you never seen a degree before? To be fair, neither had I until I got mine,” they shrug, contradicting themself in the space of a second. “Top tip. Never become a divorce lawyer if you want to propose to your girlfriend any time soon. Unless you want to talk yourself out of it, like, fifty different times. Fuck, why do I have work in the morning?! I’m gonny kill Cherry one of these days, swear to God. Worse influence than the devil himself. Forty days and forty nights in the bloody desert’s a cake walk compared to a Cherry Valentine party.”

Ellie could ask about Lawrence’s girlfriend, or about being a divorce lawyer, or about the proposal that’s seemingly on the horizon, or the mysterious Cherry, but her fatigue bites at her eyes and rips a yawn from her that she doesn’t even bother to suppress. 

“Fuck, right. Sorry. You’ve obviously had a big day,” Lawrence apologises, making to leave the room. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess? Oh, and the bathroom’s just the door opposite if you need it.”

Ellie nods, picks up the clothes Lawrence has brought for her to sleep in and tries not to let her distaste show on her face- the baggy trousers and odd-looking shirt is a far cry from the soft cotton nightgowns she has in her cottage at home. But Lawrence has been so kind to her- given her a place to sleep and taken her in off the street- so as they make to turn the light off, Ellie opens her mouth. 

“Lawrence?” she says, making them turn around. The gloss of their purple hair reflects the light, and their hazel eyes have a depth and warmth to them that seems to reassure Ellie that she’s safe here. Her gratitude washes over her again, and she shoots Lawrence a smile. “Thanks so much, again.”

As Lawrence smiles back, they flick the switch on the wall to turn out the lights. The room is plunged into darkness, and Ellie’s day ends in much the same way as her adventure began.

***

“My darling,” Joe pouts soothingly, stroking her daughter’s hair as she sobs into her lap as if she’s a little girl all over again. 

“I loved her so much, Mother! She was my true love...we were going to spend our lives together! Happily ever after, like the storybooks you used to read me. Remember?” Tia sighs, sitting up and wiping away a few tears only to have fresh ones tumble from her eyes all over again. 

“I do remember, dear, yes,” Joe nods, patting Tia’s back and wondering how much longer she’d have to keep up this performance. 

“And you’re sure of what happened?” Tia asks anxiously. Joe can see she desperately wants her to tell another story, one that’s a far cry from what she knows as the truth.

“I’m afraid so. I watched it all happen from my bedroom. One minute she was sat on the wall of the wishing well, the next she’d tumbled into it. I doubt she’ll ever be seen again.”

Tia lets out another sob, one that shakes her shoulders as she droops her head and lets her dark, straight hair fall over her face like a curtain. Joe stands up, tiring quickly of the conversation. 

“You did say she was a clumsy thing, didn’t you, darling? Didn’t she fall off a tree or something when you first met? We probably don’t want someone with such a lack of grace and poise in the family anyway, now, do we?”

Tia blinks back her tears, fixes Joe with a scowl that makes her want to laugh. Maybe there’s a bit of her that’s her Mother’s daughter after all. “Ellie was perfect. It was love at first sight. You don’t understand, Mother.”

Joe thinks about Tia’s father. Thinks about the arranged marriage, the decisions that were made for her, all for the good of the kingdom. Becoming a Queen at nineteen years of age, joined in union to a king who didn’t want to know her and saw her as a chess piece in some ridiculous game of politics. The unhappiness and resentment that grew around her heart most of her life until she birthed her beautiful baby daughter. The comfort she sought in the power she held and the fear she commanded in her subordinates and the wealth she accrued when her wretched husband died. Her determination to make sure that none of that was ever taken away from her- not least, she’d vowed, by anyone her daughter married, turning the Princess into the new Queen.

“No. I suppose I don’t,” Joe shakes her head, condensing such complexity down to a single word. She tries to reach a long-forgotten place in her heart, some form of sympathy for her daughter. She wants to know how it feels to love another, but she’s only ever loved Tia, and even the maternal instincts that seemed to have come so naturally to other Queens have always felt so foreign to her, having never had the love of her own family to learn from.

So she feels her dress brush the ornate red carpet of her daughter’s bedchamber as she walks towards the door, pushes the elaborate gold handle before turning back to Tia, crumpled in a heap at the foot of her bed. “I’ll let you sleep everything off, darling, alright? Get lots of rest. We have afternoon tea with the Archduke tomorrow.”

With that, Joe turns and leaves without a second glance to her daughter. It should set off a guilt in her stomach, perhaps trigger some sort of emotion. 

To her relief, or perhaps disappointment, it doesn’t.

Instead she gets about fifty paces down the corridor before she spots her assistant waiting for her, huddled shiftily in a darkened corner of the hallway where the light from the torches can’t quite reach. 

“Goodness, Genevieve. I shouldn’t think you need to try and look much more suspicious,” she admonishes them, only to receive a bellow of a laugh in return. 

“Sorry, ma’am. Was on m’way back from the kitchens anyway and thought I’d stop by to see how the Princess was.”

“Oh, heartbroken. But she’ll get over it.”

“What did you tell ‘er?”

“The truth,” Joe shrugs as they walk together, far from the earshot of her daughter’s room. “But with a few key details omitted, of course.”

“Like your disguise and the fact you shoved blondie into the well?” Ginny giggles, only earning themself a dig in the ribs from the Queen.

“Keep your voice down,” she hisses, before establishing they’re both safe and laughing along with them. “Yes, quite. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Anyway, it’s for the good of the kingdom.”

Ginny gives a laugh before frowning and fixing her with a curious glance. “So where did you send the girl anyway, ma’am?”

Joe thinks about the way the portal had swallowed Ellie up, the way her entire existence had been sucked out of being in a single push of her hand. 

“To a place where there are no happily ever afters.”

Chapter Text

The moment she wakes up, the first thing Ellie becomes aware of is a horrible, terrible groaning noise. 

Startled, she jolts awake- heart racing, eyes wide- only to remember she’s on Lawrence’s settee, in Glasgow, goodness knows how many miles away from home, and that the groaning is much less ogre-like than she’d first thought. She hears the sound of shuffling feet from down the hall and frantically combs her fingers through her hair, tugging her blanket higher in an attempt to look presentable even though she’s just woken up. 

As Lawrence enters the room, Ellie has to stifle her expression because woah , they look a sight. Their hair is tossed up in a messy topknot, strands of purple sticking out at all angles like a firework gone wrong. Their red makeup is smeared across their face as if they’re a botched oil painting, and their eyes are bloodshot and bleary. Ellie watches as they shuffle their way into the room.

“Good morning!” she greets them, eager to make a good impression.

She doesn’t know what she’s done wrong, but as Lawrence’s eyes fall on her they grow wide and startled, their eyebrows flying up their face in alarm. 

“Naw. Naw, naw, naw, naw, this canny be real. Who the fuck...why the fuck...aw, Jesus, ” they stutter out, dazed and panicked and in turn making Ellie feel uneasy. 

“Are you alright?” 

Lawrence is growing increasingly pale. They put their fingers to their temples and rub harshly. Ellie thinks they're probably doing a better job of causing pain than preventing it. “No. Nothing about me is remotely alright right now. Fuckin’...who are you?”

“It’s me? Ellie? Eleanor? Princess Ellie of Andalasia?” Ellie screws her face up. “Did you fall and bump your head or something?”

“Feels like it,” Lawrence groans, crossing the room and pulling out a chair roughly from its place at the dining table before roughly grabbing the curtain, ripping it across the window and blocking out the gentle morning sun. They seem deep in thought. “No, fuck, I do remember you. You were outside the GOMA...you had a wedding dress on?”

“Yes!” Ellie nods, sitting up and turning around so she can get a better view. “You had a magical amulet that got us a metal carriage without any horses on it.”

Lawrence lets their hands fall to look at her for a second, their face absolutely slack-jawed and void of any understanding. A few beats of silence go by before they drop their head into their hands and give a small, world-weary sob. “Fuck’s sake . Everything’s hazy after the sambuca. I need to phone Cherry.”

Ellie watches as Lawrence stands up quickly, then almost immediately sits down again. “Jesus, that was a bad idea. I’m so unwell.”

Ellie feels sorry for them. They do seem as if they’re genuinely suffering from something. She’s seen this once before; a blacksmith in the kingdom who was poisoned and was terribly sick. She remembers how the apothecary had given him medicine, and lots of flasks of water. 

Looking over to opposite Lawrence, she sees another little room with lots of cupboards and very fancy-looking inventions. There’s a long nozzle made of metal with two knobs on either side of it, and it keeps dripping sporadically. She takes in what looks to be an upturned goblet, puts two and two together, and jumps up from the settee. Once she's made her way into the smaller room, Ellie turns one of the knobs and is delighted to find what looks to be an automatic well, water pouring out of it. She fills up the goblet, turns off the knob and carries it over to Lawrence, setting it down in front of them. 

“Here. It might help you feel better,” she suggests. Lawrence only eyes her suspiciously, forgetting to thank her as they curl a hand around the goblet and lift it to their lips. 

They take two big chugs before they gag and rip it away from their mouth. 

“Hot tap,” they practically retch.

“Oh,” Ellie says, annoyed with herself. She watches as Lawrence looks at her again, narrowed eyes at once growing fearful.

“Haud on. We didn’t... do anything last night, did we?” 

Ellie tilts her head, confused. “Well, we talked. I told you about how I was lost, and how it was my wedding day. You were talking about Cherry’s. You told me I was in Glasgow, and tried to help me get home, except the Uber didn’t work, so you told me I could stay here. And we travelled in that metal carriage.”

Lawrence nods, still looking confused. “But did we. Y’know. Kiss? Hand stuff?”

Ellie feels herself taking a step back, shocked beyond measure. Her face sets into a scowl as she folds her arms. “Eh, absolutely not! I’m already betrothed to Princess Tia, Lawrence Chaney, as if I'd betray her like that!”

Sheepish, Lawrence’s gaze drops to the tabletop. Ellie forgets all about her irritation for a second, frowns in confusion. “What exactly is hand stuff?”

“It’s...aw Jesus, why am I entertaining this? We didn’t do anything, drunk me apparently decided to take in a waif and stray in a wedding dress like I’m the tenth bloody Doctor, that’s the end of it. So, bye driver,” they say, giving standing up another go before walking towards Ellie’s wedding dress and bundling it up in their arms. 

Ellie is confused. It seems like they're telling her to leave. “But...where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know, do I? Back to fucking...Andalucia or whatever the fuck it was. Where was it?”

“Andalasia,” Ellie says with annoyance, wondering why Lawrence has suddenly developed such violent memory loss.

“Andalasia. Wait, fuck. I remember that. I tried to get you an Uber and I typed it in but nothing came up,” Lawrence frowns, at once deep in thought. “Well, you’re no my problem any more, sunshine. Call one of your pals to come pick you up or whatever.”

“But I don’t have any friends here!” Ellie sighs, exasperated and panicked at the thought of being turfed out onto the street. “And I don’t have one of those...magical amulet things that summon the carriages!”

Lawrence’s arms relax around the wedding dress, a long-suffering look painting their face. “You mean a phone?”

“Is that what they’re called? Jesus,” Ellie hisses. She supposes she’s already picking up on the local language; Lawrence seems to say it a lot, so she may as well absorb some of Glasgow’s culture while she’s here. Deflated, she looks at them again, upset taking the place of irritation as she thinks of Princess Tia and the new life she’s left behind. “Please just let me stay here, at least until I can figure out how I can get back home. I’m very good at cleaning and cooking, and I can sew just about anything! Like my dress!”

“Wait, you made this?” Lawrence asks, dumbstruck as they look at the fabric in their arms. Before Ellie can answer, they shake their head rapidly, squeezing their eyes shut. “Fuckin’...I’m gonny be late. Fine. Fine! Stay here until I get back, then we can figure out a game plan together. But the deal is that I lock you in the flat, okay? So you don’t steal anything or…scam me, or whatever.”

Ellie ignores the insinuation that she’s a thief- because really , the nerve- in favour of the relief that washes over her at the thought of not being chucked out into this strange and unknown place. Okay, being locked in is hardly ideal, but she'll take it over the alternative. She smiles at Lawrence, who’s headed out of the room and down their hall. “Thank you! I’ll clean up and-”

“No, don’t go opening cupboards and snooping about or anything. Just...there’s bread in the bread bin and butter in the fridge if you wanty make toast. I’ve got milk in for tea...remote for the TV’s there. I need to go get ready for work.”

Before either of them can say anything more, a loud ringing sound screeches out of a small box in the hall and both of them jump out of their skin. Lawrence presses a finger to a button on the box and mutters a timid, “Hello?”

“Lawrence?” comes a voice; feminine, but low and very business-like. “It’s Vee. Sorry to swing by before work, but I think I left my laptop charger at yours the other night?”

Lawrence makes a pained face, mouths something Ellie can’t quite decipher before they inject some forced positivity into their tone. “Aw, no worries, babes! I’ll bring it down-”

“Don’t be silly! Just buzz me in, I’ll come up.”

“Okay!” Lawrence smiles through gritted teeth, pressing a different buzzer and then immediately turning to Ellie. “Christ Almighty, right. You cannot fucking be here when Veronica arrives.”

“Why?” Ellie blinks, perplexed, before Lawrence shoves her wedding dress into her arms and backs her towards a door in the hall. 

“Because my girlfriend cannot arrive at half past seven in the morning to find a gorgeous blonde in my flat wearing my pyjamas!” Lawrence cries, opening the door to reveal a small, windowless room which seems to contain an odd-looking canister on wheels with a nozzle, and several towels. “Wait here. Just until she’s gone.”

Ellie feels her lip curl up in distaste. “If you seriously expect me to-”

“ Please , Ellie,” Lawrence pleads, their eyes plaintive as a knock comes from the front door. “I did you a solid last night, I’m letting you stay here today, gonny just do this one thing for me?”

Ellie concedes that they’ve got a point, so she tries to collect all her dignity as she lets the door be shut on her and her wedding dress and hears the front door swing open.

She hears the faint, muffled sound of Lawrence talking to a girl; she has the same voice that came through the magical box, and it’s a low sort of burr that harmonises with Lawrence’s mumbly, gruff, sleepy words. Ellie thinks about how friendly and warm they’d seemed yesterday, how eager and easily they’d let her stay over with them. She wonders, with a small blow to her heart, what’s changed. However, she supposes they can’t have had a total personality transplant; they’ve still let her stay for the day, even if they are locking her in like Ellie had heard a witch did to a girl in another kingdom over with long, tumbling golden hair. 

There’s a small vent near the top of the door, and Ellie’s tall enough to reach it, so she stretches up onto her tiptoes and peers through it. There, she can see and hear more clearly, and to her surprise she can see the woman from the photo she saw last night that Lawrence had been kissing. She’s in a pair of smart black trousers, which is a little different to what Ellie’s used to, but she still thinks she looks nice. The woman is small, and her eyes are bright and sparkly in stark contrast to Lawrence’s tired and bleary ones. She’s talking, and Ellie strains to hear. 

“ So how was Cherry’s? Was she as riotous as always, or did you keep it quite tame? Your costume looked beautiful.”

Lawrence speaks in a slightly subdued way. “ It was good. Everyone’s costumes were great, you should’ve seen Vic. Came as a cake stand complete wi’ fake plastic food. Kept it quite quiet though.”

“I'll believe that when I hear it. Sounds as if you chain smoked about sixty fags and then started a solo Iron Maiden tribute act,” the woman jokes, to which Lawrence pokes a finger at her before shuffling down the hall. 

“ Behave. You should’ve come out with us, I missed you.”

“Oh, I know. It was just too short notice. Besides, the whole thing was past my bedtime for a work night, anyway.”

“Fair enough. S'pose one of us has to make the good life choices in this relationship. I’ll away and look out that charger now, think it’s still beside my bed.”

The woman is left alone in the hall, and Ellie’s stomach twists. She feels bad for her, standing waiting on her own in the hallway with nobody to talk to. Lawrence had begged her to stay put, but if Ellie is going to become a member of the royal family she should conduct herself with the appropriate airs and graces, surely?

So before she knows it, Ellie is turning the doorhandle and emerging from the cupboard, holding one free hand out to the shocked-looking woman and balancing her heavy wedding dress in the other. 

“Good morning! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Princess Ellie of Andalasia. Well, soon-to-be Princess, once I’m married to Tia,” she smiles, taking the woman’s hand and shaking it warmly. “You are?”

The woman blinks, looks Ellie up and down and presumably takes in Lawrence’s nightwear. Ellie had forgotten that Lawrence had mentioned they didn’t want her seeing Ellie in their clothes, so she rushes to explain herself. “Oh, Lawrence insisted they didn’t want me seeing you. But I just had to introduce myself, it would be so rude if I didn’t!”

“Of course! So rude,” the woman frowns as she agrees, giving Ellie’s hand a weak shake in return. Before she can say anything else there’s the sound of frantic footsteps from down the hall, followed by a groan from Lawrence.

“Veronica, babes-“

“Lawrence! I’ve just met Ellie- sorry, Princess Ellie- who seems to have been...hiding in a cupboard? Care to explain?” the woman addresses them, her gaze steely and cold. It makes Ellie feel a little unsettled, and from Lawrence’s frantic babbling it appears that they are too.

“Look, I was drunk, she was on her own and wrecked and she was in a wedding dress, for fuck’s sake, for some reason I decided to let her sleep on the sofa-”

“So that’s what we’re doing now, is it? Just taking random girls in off the street? Well, I must say that’s very charitable of you, Lawrence. I’m sure the fact she’s got huge boobs didn’t have a thing to do with it at all.”

Ellie takes a second to look down at her chest before folding her arms across herself self-consciously. It seems as if the woman is cross with Lawrence, and Ellie wants to help them out of the hole they seem to be in by backing them up.

“Lawrence was very charitable, and very kind to me!” she insists. Then, picking up on another bit of Glasgow dialect that Lawrence had used earlier, and remembering the way they’d shaken hands in the street, she adds eagerly, “And we did hand stuff!”

“Oh, fantastic,” the woman breathes out all at once with a colossal roll of her eyes, as Lawrence gives a cry much like one Ellie had once heard from a troll who’d landed with a spear in their hamstring.

“Fucking- Ronnie, please let me explain-”

“Well! Much as I’d love to try and hear you worm your way out of this, I’m going to go now. And, um, I’ll speak to you…when you’ve got a suitable apology prepared,” the woman huffs a sigh, before snatching what looks like a black snake out of Lawrence’s hands and smiling a tight smile at Ellie. “ Very nice to meet you, Princess Ellie.”

As she wrenches the front door open and then slams it behind her, Ellie blinks, perplexed, at her retreating frame. Lawrence, for their part, has sunk to the floor, their back against the wall and their head tipped up to the ceiling. 

“She seems nice?” Ellie offers, still at a loss to what has just occured. Lawrence slowly turns towards her, life and colour drained from their face.

“You really…aren’t from here, are you?” they say helplessly, resignation coating their words. Ellie thinks about the carriages without horses, and the light-up amulet, and the mysterious black rectangle in the other room, and the well that works with just a turn of a knob.

“No. I’m really not.”

“Right,” Lawrence nods slowly, then rises back to their feet. “Well. Thanks for ruining my relationship and very probably my life. I’m gonny get ready for work now.”

They shuffle into the room they’d pointed out to Ellie the night before, and Ellie thinks better than to follow them. From what Lawrence has said, she’s caused enough damage, though she’s still not quite sure how. 

Lawrence is soon off to work without so much as a goodbye, but Ellie still hears the click of the lock behind them so she concedes that they must be happy for her to stay after all. A few moments after they’ve left, Ellie sweeps a gaze over the hall, takes in the dust in the corners and the scuffs on the skirting boards and the messy piles of letters stacked up on the little table. Come to think of it, each room she’s seen has been a little messy; not at all like her cottage in Andalasia. Still, she supposes she’s always had her animal friends to help her tidy. 

In an instant, an idea comes to her. She’s sure they at least have animals in Glasgow. It’s worth a try, so she throws open Lawrence’s living room window, leans out and begins to sing a little tune with a loud clear voice, the one that always works for her at home, the one that always seems to summon her furry friends. She trills the notes sweetly, happy that she’s sung them loudly enough until she hears the sound of another window flying open down the street. 

“Hawl! I’m oan the nightshift!”

Startled, she sticks her head back inside the window and begins to tidy, folding up the blanket she’d slept under and popping it back into the basket Lawrence had taken it out of. She smooths out the creases on the pillowcase and has begun to fluff up the cushions on the settee when in through the window appears a flock of scabby-looking grey street pigeons, some with gnarled-up claws or entirely missing feet. Tiny brown mice flood through a gap between a floorboard and the skirting, and a flurry of spiders emerge from every hidden nook and cranny. The collection of vermin all seem to wait expectantly for Ellie to do or say something, but she’s frozen in horror on the settee as she casts her eyes over the crew she’s assembled. 

“Jesus…” she sighs, unimpressed, before giving herself a small shake and forcing herself to be optimistic. Beggars can’t be choosers, and she supposes her usual team of woodland animals are a bit far away right now. 

“Well! Always nice to make new friends, I guess. Okay, off to work, everyone!” she fixes a bright smile to her face and claps her hands together, before singing a song she’d once made up back at home for whenever she completed her chores. “ Come my little friends, as we all sing a happy little working song!”

And, just like back in Andalasia, the animals all do Ellie’s bidding at once. The spiders weave huge webs in which to bundle up all the rubbish, dip their little feet in soap suds and crawl across the basin to clean it. The pigeons are handy at sweeping and dusting, and it turns out that the mice’s tails are great for wiping and that their little furry coats are good at drying the freshly-washed dishes. Through the combined efforts of a soon-to-be-Princess and three separate groups of vermin, Lawrence’s flat is soon tidy and clean in not much time at all. 

Once she’s waved her new animal friends goodbye, Ellie is at a loss as to what to fill her day with. She remembers Lawrence had pointed at a little rectangular object with lots of buttons which is sitting beside the mysterious black rectangle. Approaching it tentatively, Ellie picks it up and with every muscle in her body tense with expectation of the worst, she pushes the first button she thinks of- a big red one near the top. 

All at once, the black rectangle floods to life. Colours burst across the screen and Ellie leaps back, shocked and enraptured all at once. Perching herself on the edge of the settee, she watches as a man and a woman argue outside what looks to be some sort of inn, before falling into each others’ arms and kissing passionately. 

Ellie finds herself screwing up her face. Weird sort of true love’s kiss. 

But the more she watches, the more she seems to learn. The story of the man and woman unfolds, and in between there’s little sorts of animated market stalls; that’s what Ellie assumes they are, anyway, as they all appear to be attempting to sell her something. So much information gets thrown at her that she eventually decides to grab a self-inking quill that’s sitting on Lawrence’s coffee table (a pen , she reminds herself) and begin keeping track of her new found knowledge on the back of an envelope that dropped through Lawrence’s door earlier in the morning. Her spelling might be a little ropey, but she soon manages to rack up a pretty hefty dictionary of vocabulary, and discovers that the metal carriages are called cars , and that the automatic well is called a tap . 

Before she knows it, the sky is beginning to grow dark outside and the streetlamps are glowing a warm orange. Ellie has been watching the black rectangle- the TV - for longer than she expected to, and there’s still so much to do before Lawrence comes home. Ellie knows she has to make it up to them for ruining their life (even though she’s still not quite sure how she did it), and she wants to put a smile on their face again. She thinks about Lawrence’s smile and their laugh and how kind they were yesterday night. She wants that Lawrence to come back.

So she does a little bit of snooping around even though Lawrence had said not to, finds a towel in the cupboard she’d been unceremoniously shoved into and then jumps in the shower where she washes her hair and cleans all the city grime off herself. Once dry, she pads back into the living room, pushes back the layers of her wedding dress and finds the little sewing kit she always carries with her in the secret pocket she’d sewn in. Ellie then takes a moment to think about what she could create a dress from. She can’t use Lawrence’s curtains- they’d notice, and besides, grey is such a boring colour- and the rug is too thick to fashion into anything. Returning to the cupboard in which she’d found the towel, Ellie discovers a purple and white checked gingham picnic rug. It’s folded up tight, and she doubts Lawrence would get much use out of it in the cold, rain and dark that Glasgow seems to perpetually exist in. 

It’s not long until she’s created a simple dress out of it, with huge sleeves and a bow at the neck. She’s always been a gifted seamstress, even if her academia leaves a lot to be desired, and she’s always dreamed of making dresses and outfits for a living before Princess Tia came along. Ellie ties her wet hair into a long French plait in the mirror, using a scrap of the plaid material for a bow. 

Her stomach rumbles, and it’s only then she realises she’s not had a thing to eat all day. 

Going back into Lawrence’s kitchen and opening and shutting endless cupboards, her brain really has to work overtime to come up with some sort of recipe. Their fridge has a small packet of spinach leaves which are fighting for their life in the vegetable drawer, one single sweet potato, some butter, and a lemon, and in their cupboards there’s flour, spices, and various assortments of tins which Ellie has to study in order to find out what they contain. She ends up making a pie out of the sweet potato and spinach, as well as some lentils (once she discovers how to open the tin with the ringpull), and by the time she’s taking it out of the oven she can hear a key turn in the lock.

Ellie feels nerves twist her gut. Lawrence hadn’t said a thing to her as they left the flat earlier, and she’s hoping that they’re in a better mood now and won’t ask her to leave. Wanting to reassure them that she didn’t escape through a window with any of their belongings, she decides to call out. 

“Hello? Lawrence?”

There’s a drag of heavy, tired footsteps before Lawrence appears in the doorway of the room. Ellie takes in the way they’re dressed- pinstripe black blazer and matching trousers with a white shirt. It’s different to how people dress in Andalasia, but Ellie thinks they look very nice. She’s about to tell them so when she registers the way their mouth’s dropped into an “o” of surprise, their eyes wide and awed. 

“Well. You weren’t lying about being good at cleaning,” they say quietly, by way of a greeting. 

“I know you told me not to go snooping around, but I really wanted to clean up as a thank you. And as a sorry, I guess. For, y’know. Ruining your life,” Ellie rushes to explain, before picking up the plates she’s put slices of pie on and carrying them over to the beautifully set dinner table. “And I made you some food as well. I thought you might be hungry if you’ve been out working all day.”

Lawrence shakes their head, still a little in shock. “You didny need to do all this, honestly. Thanks.”

Ellie’s heart lifts. She’s glad her efforts have been well received. “Well, it’s ready if you want some.”

“Smells good. How in the fuck did you manage to scrape together a meal from my fridge? It’s like playing Cooking Mama on expert mode,” Lawrence chuckles a little, crossing the room to peer at what Ellie’s made. 

“Well, I’m good at making pies. I guess I just stuck with what I knew,” Ellie shrugs, before taking a seat in front of one of the plates. She looks up at Lawrence, who’s looking at the food with an expression on their face that Ellie can’t quite read. They blink, and fix Ellie with a tight smile. 

“I’m just gonny go get changed into some comfies. I’ll be back in two secs.”

Ellie nods as they leave the room, waiting politely for them to come back before she starts her own meal. It’s manners like these she’s going to need if she’s going to join the royal family, and with a pain in her heart she thinks of Princess Tia, wonders if she’s out there searching for her in the cold rain of the Glasgow night. 

She’s distracted by Lawrence reappearing in a jumper and baggy trousers in matching purple tie-dye. The co-ordinating nature of the outfit and the fact that they look so much like the pyjamas they gave Ellie yesterday makes her giggle involuntarily. 

“Sorry,” she laughs apologetically, as Lawrence takes their seat opposite her and shoots her a look of confusion. “I’ve just never seen an outfit like that before in Andalasia.”

Thankfully, Lawrence is good-humoured. “They don’t have sweatpants where you’re from? I’m never visiting, then.”

As Lawrence picks up their fork, Ellie takes that as her cue to begin eating. She’s starving, and she has to make a real effort not to scoff it all down as fast as she’s able and take her time to eat in little dainty bites like a Princess would. Lawrence doesn’t show as much self-restraint, and their first huge forkful is gone before Ellie knows it. 

“Fuck me, this is good. Where’d you learn to make it?” they hum appreciatively in between mouthfuls. Ellie shrugs. 

“Well, back at school we had sewing class and cookery and that was where I started to learn,” she explains. Lawrence laughs from opposite her. 

“I wish I’d got taught cookery in school. Actually might’ve been able to fend for myself. All I did was piss about in French. Used to flick through the textbooks, find a picture of the ugliest wee fucker wi bottle top glasses I could find and go ‘that’s you’ to my pals.”

Ellie snorts, the image of glasses made out of bottle tops one she finds incredibly funny. She thinks about her time at school again. “I preferred those subjects to the academic ones. You know, like reading. I never quite seemed to get the hang of that. The words always used to jump about the page, like a weird sort of magic spell.”

Lawrence nods understandingly as they swallow another bite of pie. “Aw, so you’re dyslexic.”

Ellie wrinkles her nose, confused once again despite the dictionary she’d made earlier. “I’m a what?”

“Dyslexic,” Lawrence says again, as if it’s the most normal word in the world. “It means you find reading harder than most people. Words flying about the page an’ that. Did your teacher never tell you?”

Ellie frowns, shakes her head. “No. My teachers always said I’d make somebody a very fine wife, but that I wasn’t going to amount to much else.”

Lawrence’s expression becomes pained. “That’s shite of them. I’m sorry to hear that, babes.”

“Oh, don’t be!” Ellie smiles enthusiastically, the thoughts of her Princess filling her head. “It’s a good job I’m going to be a wife very soon. You know, to Princess Tia.”

“Right,” Lawrence nods slowly, a look in their eye that Ellie can’t quite understand. It’s then that Ellie remembers Veronica, the woman from earlier. 

“So, Veronica,” Ellie says, cutting into the crust of her pie and not risking meeting Lawrence’s eyes at the touchy subject. “Is she going to be your wife?”

There’s a pause where Ellie risks looking at Lawrence tentatively. They’re chewing, a little furrow to their brow and their hazel eyes narrowed. When they swallow, they’re ready to speak. 

“Well, that’s sort of the plan. Or was. Until she came round the flat this morning to find you in a cupboard.”

Ellie winces as guilt settles in her stomach. She lets a beat of silence drop before speaking. “Lawrence, I really am sorry for ruining things for you.”

Lawrence sighs, bats a hand at the air. “Ach, it’s fine. It’s my fault, really. I should’ve just...explained the situation to her instead of stuffing you away like a fuckin’ blow-up mattress. I think I overreacted.”

The air seems to grow a little warmer, and Ellie feels a little more at ease. Lawrence shrugs as they continue.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I shouldny have locked you in the flat, that was completely out of order. I had work, I was stressed, I was hungover to all hell...it wasny an ideal time to wake up wi no memory of the night before and a random pretty girl in my living room.”

Ellie feels her cheeks flush as she bites back a smile. Lawrence seems to have a habit of giving her compliments, and it takes her aback every time. Princess Tia has only ever given her one compliment, but Ellie supposes she’s being unfair. After all, they’ve only known each other one day, and much of that was spent singing to each other.

“Well, apology accepted,” Ellie smiles brightly, the thoughts of Tia cheering her up.

“So, what did you manage to get up to while I was wasting my life away at work?” 

“Well, I cleaned, and I cooked. Oh! I watched a lot of TV, and I learned a lot about Glasgow. And I made this dress.”

Lawrence’s jaw stops moving, and their eyes widen as they look Ellie up and down. “Oh, Christ, yeah. I was wondering how you got that. How...how did you get it?”

Ellie’s stomach drops. She has to come clean. “Well...there was a picnic blanket in the cupboard you put me in this morning. I thought you wouldn’t have much use for it, since Glasgow seems to be a very...cold and rainy place.”

Lawrence is quiet for a second, then bursts out laughing. “Jesus, aye. What the fuck am I doing wi a picnic blanket in Scotland?!”

Lawrence’s laughter is infectious, and the two of them are soon giggling away together as if neither of them have a care in the world. As their laughter dies down, Lawrence tilts their head at her. 

“So, you like sewing and stuff, yeah?”

Ellie nods. “Absolutely! I always wanted to open my own clothing store in Andalasia. You know, making dresses and selling them. Before I became betrothed, of course.”

Ellie notices something shift in Lawrence’s gaze; a flash of realisation, a growing warmth. She’s not quite sure why, but it sets off a glow in her own heart too. 

“Listen,” Lawrence says. “You given it much more thought as to how you’re getting home?”

Ellie feels her heart sink. Thinking about the unknown makes her stomach churn, and it’s an uncomfortable feeling. “I’ve given it lots of thought, I just don’t have a solution. I guess my plan is to wait for Princess Tia to rescue me.”

Lawrence gives her a funny sort of smile before they continue. “Well, if you’re not rushing off anywhere, I’ve got a half day tomorrow. Why don’t you swing by my work, and I’ll get Cherry to sort you out with a way home? Then I can give you a wee tour of the city before you go. I can show you way more of Glasgow than a TV can.”

“You really think there’s a way for me to get home?” Ellie gives a little hopeful gasp, thrilled at the prospect. 

“Aw, absolutely! Uber was probably just on one the other night, some sort of glitch or something. We’ll get you sorted out tomorrow.”

Joy floods over her. The thought that there could actually be a way to get her home and back to the Princess that’s waiting for her fills her like a thousand butterflies, makes her pulse race with excitement. She can’t wait. 

“Thanks, Lawrence, honestly. You’ve been so kind to me. It means the world.”

Lawrence looks down at their lap, and when they look back at Ellie their face seems to be flushed a little pink. “No problem, Princess Ellie.”

Ellie smiles back as she meets Lawrence’s gaze, takes in the little details to their eyes. Their irises are a kaleidoscope of green and brown and almost gold, the flecks of colour like speckles, and their pupils are big and black, a part of them shining as if they’ve been dipped in glitter. 

Lawrence’s eyes are beautiful.

Before Ellie can tell them this, there’s a loud hum that comes from the coffee table which makes them both jump. Rising, Lawrence makes their way to the table and picks their phone up, the humming now relocated to their hand as they put it to their ear. 

“Hello?...How come?...What? Naw, there’s no way...Well, the place is spotless, you can come and take a look yourself!...Aye, didny think so. Awrite. Bye.”

Ellie’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she turns around in her chair as she frowns at Lawrence, who has a deeply troubled expression on their face. “Who was that?”

“My landlord. Wanted to ring up pest control for me. Somebody tipped him off about an entire flock of pigeons flying in through my window! I mean, can you imagine believing that shite?”

Ellie presses her lips together. She could tell Lawrence the truth, but she doesn’t want to risk them getting annoyed at her again, not after the way they’ve both managed to patch things up. 

“An entire flock of pigeons?” Ellie fakes a laugh, then tries out some more local dialect. “Fuck’s sake!”

When Lawrence lets out a bellow of a laugh, she knows she’s made the right decision.

***

Tia has been in mourning for nearly twenty-four hours. 

Her choice of a black lace dress for afternoon tea with the Archduke earned her an earful of condemnation from her Mother afterwards, who’d insisted she wear something feminine and pretty. But how could she put on such a performance knowing the love of her life has just disappeared?

Tia knows it’s selfish, but she thinks she deserves a happy ending. Her life as she knows it is an endless litany of politics and keeping up appearances, and the only joy she finds solace in lies in the one tiny slice of freedom she’s allowed; riding her horse around the kingdom. Grief stabs at her heart again when she’s reminded of the fact that that was how she’d met Ellie in the first place, how she’d literally fallen into her life with a screech and a set of sapphire blue eyes and hair like spun gold. Ellie was meant to be a chance at not just love, but actual contentment.

Tia deserves love. She deserves to be loved, and her sadness only exacerbates as she thinks about the Father she never knew and the Mother who…well, says and does all the right things but always has this wall up around her heart that’s twenty stories high, as if she has to memorise lines from a script and take direction just to be there for her. Tia deserves someone to give her love to. Sometimes she feels a longing for this that aches to an almost painful extent, what she imagines heartache to feel like. Perhaps it’s why she fell for Ellie so fast and so hard, and the way she’s taken her disappearance like a death. 

She places her hands flat against the stone of the well, feeling the rough brickwork and trying to ground herself. It’s her third visit today, and she’s embarrassed by her obsession, but she keeps analysing the story her Mother told her and trying to find some shred of hope in it. On her first visit she’d shouted Ellie’s name down in the futile hope she’d still be alive. On the second, and with some amount of horror, she’d taken a lantern and tried to shine towards the bottom, fearing Ellie’s lifeless body would be lying bloated in the water. With equal parts of bewilderment and relief, she had found nothing.

This time, though, the jigsaw pieces all seem to fit together in her head. If Ellie isn’t alive down there, and she isn’t dead…then where exactly is she?

Tia believes that magic is real. She’s listened, endlessly enraptured as her lady-in-waiting has told her rumour after rumour about the goings-on in adjacent kingdoms. River seems to know every tale to tell, and as a result Tia has heard the stories of the evil Queen a few kingdoms over who tried to poison the new Princess with an apple pumped full of witchcraft, and the evil fairy who could turn into a dragon and was slain by the Princess’ true love.

She would slay a dragon for Ellie without question. 

Thinking deeply, she gazes into the black void of the well all over again. What if there had been some sort of magic spell put on it…and what if Ellie is still alive, out there in some sort of purgatorial prison or lost in another world? Tia thinks of her true love, alone and frightened, and her heart breaks all over again. 

Jumping into a well would be easier than slaying a dragon. Tia knows the risks; if it all goes wrong she could break her neck, drown, at the very least have to be rescued from the water and bring shame upon the royal family with her insane antics. But it’s a risk she’s willing to take. The possibility of a quest to rescue Ellie is better than having to stay in her room while a ball takes place in the grand hall that she isn’t invited to, again . 

Tia sits on the edge of the stone, just as she imagines Ellie had done less than a full day ago. She feels the ground under her feet, looks up to the bright blue sky studded with birds. 

It’s the last thing she sees before she squeezes her eyes shut, crosses her arms over her chest, and tips herself back into the well.

Chapter Text

The building that Lawrence works in is tall and looks to be made entirely of glass, not bricks like it should be. Ellie thinks this is strange, but then again she thinks much of Glasgow is. If it’s not getting on a train that travels underground then it’s riding a set of moving metal stairs back up to the streets above, where Lawrence had cheerfully pointed out all the sights of their home city on the way. 

Ellie had got up extra early this morning to make sure she was ready for a trip to work with Lawrence. After all, she would hate to mess things up for them again or risk causing them any embarrassment. So she’d made a new outfit out of an old tartan tablecloth she’d found at the back of one of Lawrence’s kitchen drawers, red and green check with a pleated skirt and white buttons all up the front that she’d repurposed from her wedding dress. After that she’d set out some cereal and made them both some tea, and she was very proud of the fact she’d managed to get the hang of the boiling well - the kettle - correctly. 

Lawrence had come into the kitchen with sleepy eyes and a poorly-stifled yawn, and Ellie had watched as a little smile had tugged at their lips as they’d thanked her for making breakfast. Ellie’s happy she had been able to cement herself in their good books again. 

“I like the dress,” Lawrence had complimented her in between bites of Shreddies. “Although that tablecloth was the last thing I had that belonged to my Gran before she died, so-”

Ellie had immediately choked and descended into a coughing fit of shock, grasping at her cup of tea as Lawrence had burst out laughing and told her they’d only been joking. 

“Well. You didn’t have anything pink, so I guess this was the next best thing,” Ellie had justified herself after she’d regained composure.

“I’d have let you borrow something of mine, but I don’t have much that’s pink. Purple, however, that’s a different story,” Lawrence had shrugged, and as Ellie looked down at their smart lilac blazer dress she had concluded it’s a good thing their favourite colour is purple, because they wear it awfully well. 

“You suit it,” Ellie had decided to tell them, which had caused them to smile gently and mutter out a thank you.

Lawrence doesn’t seem to be in the mood for compliments or jokes right now, however, as their heels clack across the tiled lobby of the building and they press the button for something called the ‘lift’, a grim determination setting in their jaw. Ellie is bewildered. Work is supposed be something enjoyable, but Lawrence seems as if they’re walking into the mouth of a lion’s den. 

Ellie hums the little working song she’d sang with the animals yesterday in an attempt to cheer Lawrence up, but she doesn’t seem to have much success. She then decides to reach out and gently take their hand, the one that’s not holding their briefcase. When Lawrence looks down and then back up at Ellie with suspicion on their face, Ellie drops it quickly, embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” she explains, nervously. “You looked...I don’t know. Like you didn’t want to be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” Lawrence sighs, as the lift arrives and the pair of them step into what looks to be a small box. “I’ve got the fucking...Boyle and Szura-Radix separation, and there’s no reasoning with them. If they’re not fighting over custody of various pieces of 90’s Mugler, it’s who gets custody of Patricia.”

“Is that their daughter?”

The glare Lawrence gives her in return is an extremely long-suffering one. “Their kitten.”

Ellie snorts, drawing a small smile out of Lawrence before the doors open again and they travel down various sets of corridors before they reach a bright and airy reception area, where a girl sits behind a varnished desk and speaks into a phone. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and her mouth is set in a forced smile which reveals a set of white teeth that are only a little crooked. Ellie vaguely recognises her, but she’s unsure where from.

“Boulash and Mandella, partners in law and partners in life, how can I help?” she trills into the phone, in an accent that’s decidedly different from Lawrence’s. It’s then that the girl looks up and registers who’s walked in, and her smile becomes suddenly genuine. “I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to call you back as there’s an urgent issue that’s just come up in the offices. Please excuse me.”

Ellie watches as the girl smashes the phone back into its reciever and leaps up from her chair with a beaming grin, pointing at Ellie expectantly and turning to face Lawrence. “OH my God. Oh my God. Is this her? Did you bring her in?”

“Good morning, Loz, how’s your day going! D’you want a cup of tea?” Lawrence replies sarcastically, their expression one of resignation. The girl is still staring gleefully at Ellie, who suddenly feels a little self-conscious. Still, she’s one of the few people since she arrived in Glasgow who looks genuinely happy to see her so she smiles back politely, if not slightly less enthusiastically. Her dark eyes dart expectantly between Lawrence and Ellie before she speaks again.

“Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me?” 

Lawrence sighs. “Ellie, this is Cherry. Best pal, pain in the arse, shocking influence, and responsible for 99% of my bad life decisions.”

“They also forgot receptionist ,” Cherry smiles regardless, pointing at her badge as if to illustrate her point. 

“Cherry, this is Ellie,” Lawrence continues, waving a hand between the two of them. 

It all makes sense, Ellie realises; this was the Cherry that they’d been talking about the night she and Lawrence had met, and she was the girl from the photo in Lawrence’s living room who’d been wearing the tight red dress. It makes Ellie relax automatically. Any friend of Lawrence’s is a friend of hers, she knows that much already.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Ellie holds a hand out, which Cherry shakes warmly as she ignores the ringing phone. 

“And you! I’ve heard so much about you,” Cherry beams, shooting a sly side glance at Lawrence who narrows their eyes at her.

Ellie laughs cheerfully. “Likewise! Lawrence chatted loads about you the night we met. What was it they said again? Forty days and forty nights in the bloody desert’s a cake walk compared to a Cherry Valentine party. ”

All at once, Cherry emits a howl of laughter that’s as terrifying as it is humorous. “Oh my God, that’s so on the money.”

“Speaking of money, are you gonny answer that phone? You’re losing me clients here,” Lawrence bristles. Cherry seems to be undeterred by their irritation and shrugs lightly.

“Hey, worry less about me and more about the fact that Tayce is in there right now with bloody A’whora and her lawyer!”

Lawrence's eyes widen. “For fuck’s sake! When were you planning on telling me this, when we’d all stood and gabbed like wee auld wummen for twenty bastardin’ minutes?! And in the name of Christ, do not let Ms. Boyle hear you calling her that!”

“They were early, so I showed them in and made them coffee! Shining example of a good hostess, me. Speaking of, have you thought any more about the-”

“Cherry. Now is not the time to talk about your bloody ball, I need to get to my office,” Lawrence hisses impatiently, Ellie’s ears pricking up at the mention of a ball. “And I need you to deal wi this one.”

It takes her a second to realise that, through gritted teeth, Lawrence is referring to her. 

Cherry just snorts, lifts the phone and then immediately replaces it in the receiver. “What am I, a bloody mob boss?”

“You know what I mean! Find out where she’s from and get her there, please. I don’t care what it takes,” Lawrence says, before turning to Ellie quickly. “Ellie, I’ve got to go to a very important meeting, okay? But Cherry will look after you, she’ll get you home.” 

“Amazing! Thank you so much,” Ellie claps her hands together excitedly, before Lawrence nods at them both hurriedly and rushes off down the corridor.

“Forgot to say, Tayce brought Patricia. Think she’s going to use her as leverage,” Cherry yells after them, before her words die on her lips and she shrugs. “Oop. They’ve gone. What d’you say, girl, shall we get a cuppa before we get you home, yeah?”

Cherry leads her into a small kitchenette to the side of her desk, talking a mile a minute all the while. It turns out Cherry is from a place called Darlington, which is far away from Glasgow like Andalasia. The only difference is that there seems to be a way to get to Darlington. 

“Have you ever been?” Cherry asks her, handing her a steaming hot mug of tea. Ellie blinks, confused. 

“Been what?”

Cherry lets out a bellow of laughter. “Been to Darlington!”

“Oh! Um, no. I’ve never been outside Andalasia, really. Until now, of course. Have you ever been there?”

Cherry shrugs as she reaches into the pocket of her black suit jacket and pulls out a phone. “Never in my life. Whereabouts is it?”

Ellie pauses before speaking, confused at the question. “Um. Andalasia.”

Giving her an odd sort of frown, Cherry laughs as she talks. “No, but like...where is it in relation to here? Y’know, what country, is it North or South or…?”

Ellie thinks for a second, tries to come up with an answer that won’t get her laughed at but fails to succeed. “I don’t know.”

Immediately, Cherry snorts loudly, shaking her head before taking a sip from her own cup. “I feel ya, girl. I’m shite at geography too.”

As her red-acrylic fingers tap at the screen, her face screws into an irked expression. “I don’t know why Lawrence tasked me with this. They told me yesterday the place wasn’t on a map, I mean, do I look like Dora the bleedin’ Explorer to you?”

Ellie makes to take a sip of her tea, but stops when Cherry’s words sink in. “Lawrence spoke about me to you?”

“Oh, did they!” Cherry barks a laugh, a little scheming smile on her face. “They couldn’t stop. Shaking and gibbering about how Veronica had walked in on them with this tall sexy blonde . You lil’ homewrecker, you.”

A cocktail of emotions seem to rush through Ellie’s veins. Overwhelmingly, she feels panic; she doesn’t want to have wrecked anything, least of all Lawrence’s relationship and a beautiful love story in the making. But in amongst the concern there’s an undercurrent of a feeling she can’t quite put her finger on, one that makes her cheeks feel hot and her stomach flip over. 

She bites her lip and wonders what to say, hyper-aware that Cherry is Lawrence’s friend. She’ll be protective of them, she’ll want the best for them. She won’t like that a random stranger has upset their happiness. After a pause, she decides on what she concludes is the least inflammatory response possible. 

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, honestly.”

Surprisingly, Cherry just bats a dismissive hand at her, still not looking up from her phone and not appearing at all bothered. “Don’t feel bad, babe. I mean it’s not your fault you’re pretty, is it? I honestly think at this point Lawrence is just looking for reasons.”

Ellie lets her sentence hang in the air, unsure of how to interpret it or what it’s supposed to mean, like Cherry’s just suddenly begun talking in a different language. “Reasons for what?”

Cherry’s eyes grow wide as she looks up from her phone, before she frowns deeply and shakes her head. “God, I’m terrible. Got a mouth like the Parkside tunnel! Ignore me, love. Well, I’ve Googled, I’ve mapped, I’ve Ubered, and there really isn’t anywhere coming up for this home of yours, afraid to say.”

“Oh,” Ellie can’t help but sigh, feeling overwhelmingly like a popped balloon.

“Now normally I’d actually commit to the task at hand and try and get a few more details out of you, regardless of your shite Geography skills, but I’m actually a very busy woman so I should probably get back to doing what I need to be doing. You can still chill here, though.”

Ellie nods, trying not to come across as too despondent. “I get it. You need to answer the phone.”

“Answer the phone? Fuck no!” Cherry wheezes a laugh of disbelief. “I’ve organised this ball, you see, and it’s bloody tomorrow , so I’m more swamped than pissin’ Shrek trying to iron out all the details.”

“You’re throwing a ball?” Ellie asks with excitement, following Cherry back out to her desk like an enthusiastic puppy. 

(Even though she’s still disappointed about her way home being thwarted, there’s a part of her that longs to go to a real ball. She’s going to have to practise attending them, she imagines, as the royals will inevitably throw hundreds. Tia might even attend the one Cherry’s throwing, and maybe that’s when they’ll see each other again.)

“Oh, it’s absolutely the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever done,” Cherry explains, clicking onto something on her computer and showing Ellie what looks to be an online invite. “See, the pay for this place is absolute pennies, so I do events and stuff to keep my head above water. Not only are they fun to organise, but you’d be surprised how easy it is to fleece rich people out of their money.”

With that, she pauses and gives Ellie a furtive glance. “Don’t tell Lawrence I said that, by the way. Not like they're sitting on thousands, but I’m still trying to get them to buy tickets, y'know?”

“Got it,” Ellie nods quickly, even though she feels a stab of guilt at the thought of keeping something from Lawrence when they’ve been so good to her. 

“These things would normally be quite expensive to organise. Luckily, because of my natural charm and charisma, I’ve got a lot of connections in high places,” Cherry bats her lashes, then seems to be unable to take herself seriously for long and bursts into peals of laughter. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! But I do have friends that help out. Vic’s got a bakery on Great Western Road, so I call in favours from her to do the food. Pippa works at the Winter Gardens, so she got me discounted venue hire. Christ knows I needed it.”

Ellie tunes Cherry out as she stares at the picture on the screen- a room with glass walls filled with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights, endless varieties of lush green plants with tall stems and twisting vines framing an open stone floor. Childishly, she can’t help but conjure up images of herself in a dazzling ballgown made of shimmering blue silk, with a skirt that flares out as she twirls across the stones and back into the arms of her dancing partner-

Oh. 

Ellie frowns, screws her face up as she realises her mistake. Quite involuntarily and entirely by accident, she’d imagined she would be dancing with somebody other than Princess Tia at the ball. The image that had popped into her head was a purple-haired, hazel-eyed surprise, and Ellie shakes her head as she replaces the person in her arms with Tia, tall and statuesque with her long, dark hair, looking down at her…

...looking up at her…

Is she taller than Tia or is Tia taller than her? Ellie can’t remember. Or perhaps, she realises with an uncomfortable feeling lodging itself in her stomach like a shard of ice, she didn’t know to begin with.

“Shit,” Cherry hisses suddenly and looks up, ripping Ellie out of her own thoughts and causing her to follow her gaze. 

Down the corridor, the human personification of two beautiful marble sculptures approach the reception area. The first is tall and graceful, her neat braids all pulled back into an intricate bun and the clean tailoring and rich umber of her suit making her ooze power and authority. The second walks poised beside her, if a few heads smaller even with a set of high stiletto heels. Their stature doesn’t stop them radiating equal amounts of confidence, however, and their long, blonde hair falls over their shoulders and glistens as they walk. Their suit is similar in cut to their taller counterpart, but comes in a bright monochrome of pink which Ellie falls in love with the moment she lays eyes on it. 

She’s about to approach them and compliment their outfit when Cherry turns to her, eyes wide with urgency. “I need you to go over to those seats and pretend that that fish tank is the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen in your life.”

Ellie is confused. “Why?”

“Because if Bimini and Asttina think Lawrence is hanging about with a girl they met off the street who can’t point to her home town on a map, they’re going to seriously question their legal judgement,” Cherry hisses at her, gently but insistently nudging her in the direction she wants her to go.

So Ellie obeys- and to be fair, the fish tank is interesting- but she can’t help but keep one ear on the conversation happening behind her. 

“Cherry.”

“Mx Boulash, Ms Mandella!” Ellie hears Cherry greets them both, a forcefully saccharine tone to her voice.

“Who’s that?” 

Ellie turns around, sees the three of them already staring in her direction. Cherry’s eyes are wide as if she’s a deer caught in headlights, while the other two look both suspicious and unimpressed. 

Ellie decides to give them a hesitant smile and a wave. From the pained look on Cherry’s face, this was the wrong response. 

“It’s, uh. Lawrence’s friend! They’ve only got Ms. Szura-Radix to meet with today and the rest is admin and paperwork, so they’ve scheduled a working brunch. They’re only on a half-day anyway, so…”

If Ellie looks in the reflection of the tank, she can see the taller woman narrow her eyes. “Well it doesn’t sound like they’re going to be doing much work at this ‘working brunch’, does it?”

“An’ Lawrence didn’t clear this with us, did they? Asttina, d’you remember getting any email about this?”

“No, I don’t, babe. I don’t think there was any email.”

The small pink one turns to Cherry with a tight-lipped smile. “Cherry, if you could let Lawrence know we’re looking for ‘em when they come out of that meeting. We’d just like a word.”

“Well, tell them yourself. That’s them just coming.” 

Ellie’s focus drops from the reflection in the glass to the corridor, and she can’t help the joy that fills her heart when she sees Lawrence again. They’re joined by a man and two incredibly attractive women, all in smart, dark suits. Ellie’s joy falters. Why does everyone here wear the same thing? It’s only Lawrence, in their dress with its pop of purple, that seems to stand out from their colleagues. But then, Ellie wonders as she considers what she’s learned about them so far, Lawrence doesn’t seem like the shy and retiring type. They’re loud and outgoing like Ellie, but with some sort of magical magnetism to them. Something special, like they’ve got a star sharing space with their heart. 

“Lawrence! A word?” the small pink one calls over to them, and Ellie watches as Lawrence’s expression grows grim, excusing themself from the people they’re with and walking over to the two suits at Cherry’s desk. They shoot a quick glance at Ellie as they pass which is coloured with only a little suspicion. She wants to tell them this has nothing to do with her, that she didn’t even open her mouth, that she stayed and looked at the pissing fish tank like she’d been asked to. 

She concedes that it’s probably best to just keep her mouth shut for once. 

But then, her eyes rest on a carrier in one of the women’s hands, and the tiny, fluffy kitten with a rhinestone collar inside. Ellie’s heart lights up, and she can’t help but shuffle over to get a closer look. 

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” the woman holding the carrier smiles, clearly noticing Ellie admiring the cat. “She’s only about six months, our Trish.”

“She’s very beautiful. As are you, if you don't mind me saying!” Ellie says, rushing to compliment her. She is stunning; the black of her suit complimenting her raven hair, brown eyes and flawless dark skin. Ellie supposes if this place requires people to wear a suit, everyone should wear theirs like her. 

“God, a compliment! I’d almost forgotten what one of those were,” the woman smiles wryly, throwing a look towards the blonde girl standing a little further away from them both, scrolling her phone with a grave expression on her face and a tight set to her jaw. It’s then that Ellie remembers Lawrence’s line of work, and her face falls. 

“Oh, right. Are you two separating, then?” 

“Yep! Failed marriages, eh, gotta love ‘em. Maybe it all would’ve worked out if she spent a little more time complimenting me and a little less time fucking up and then trying to apologise, but hey ho,” she sighs, shrugging a little. 

She doesn’t fool Ellie, though. There’s a deep sorrow past the initial friendly twinkle in her eyes, one that hurts Ellie’s heart. She casts a look over to the blonde girl again and feels a sadness lodge itself under her skin. These girls are making a mistake. 

“I think you two should give it another go,” she insists, causing the woman’s perfectly pencilled eyebrows to fly halfway up her forehead in a mixture of surprise and offence. 

“Excuse me?”

“Well…I'm willing to bet that she made a mistake. Maybe another in a long line of mistakes. You got angry, and you had a fight, and one of you said something you regret, but now you’ve committed to it and you’re going through this divorce and…you want to back out, but you don’t want to be the first one to say so because your pride’s in the way. But all this time apart has got you both remembering all the good times, all the reasons you fell in love with each other in the first place,” Ellie pleads, ignoring the woman’s face growing less and less impressed and instead catching the eye of the blonde girl, who’s watching them both talking with a wary interest. Encouraged, Ellie appeals to her. “I mean, you still love each other, don’t you?”

The blonde woman looks momentarily like she’s been slapped, and her eyes fall on the dark-haired girl with a mix of anger and hurt swirling in them. “What the hell is this, Tayce? One last attempt to rip the piss out of me? 

“Christ’s sake, no , I-” she bites back, then turns around and fixes Ellie with a hard glare. “Look, I don’t even know who the hell you are, Mrs, okay? But one thing I am gonna tell you is that you don’t know the first thing about me or about my divorce, because sometimes still being in love with someone isn’t enough. Alright?”

With that, the woman click-clacks away in her stiletto heels, and Ellie’s stomach drops. But there’s a spark of hope in the way the other girl’s expression shifts and changes, the way her full pink lips mouth the word “ still…” almost wistfully. 

“Ellie! ”

Ellie’s snapped out of watching the scene in front of her by the sound of her name being hissed through gritted teeth. Lawrence is approaching her with a face like thunder, and a sense of foreboding fills Ellie’s gut.

“What the fresh hell are you playing at?” they growl out, gesturing at the two suits that are wandering away from them. “I’ve just been sent home earlyon a disciplinary because apparently I’m going for brunch with my friend instead of doing my job! And the next thing I know, my clients are storming out of the building! Seriously, are you actively trying to ruin my life?”

Ellie thinks about her time in Glasgow so far. She thinks about how nice Lawrence was to her at first and the way they completely changed the next day. She thinks about the way she tidied Lawrence’s flat and made their dinner and their breakfast. She thinks about the way they unceremoniously shoved her into a cupboard, and the way they promised her that Cherry would find her a way home, which didn’t happen.

She feels a red mist cloud her vision and she snaps.

“All I’m trying to do is get home! All I’ve tried to do since I met you is just…get home and show you how much everything you’ve done for me has meant to me! But apparently, the Lawrence Chaney that I met on Royal Exchange Square that was seven ciders deep is a lot nicer than the one that locks girls in their flats, and shoves them into cupboards, and fucking…shouts at them even though they’re trying their hardest to make sense of this place where literally everything is new!” Ellie bites back, the frown furrowing her brow so viciously it already feels as if it’s made itself permanent. 

Lawrence looks stunned. For once, they don’t say anything as Ellie blinks back tears of rage and upset, all at once fed up of Glasgow and her situation and just longing with all her heart to be back to the place she knows. Overwhelmed and emotional, she blocks out Cherry rising from her desk and instead barges past Lawrence as she speaks again.

“So don’t worry! I’m not going to be your problem any more, I’ll find someone else’s life to ruin. Or maybe, just maybe , I’ll find someone that can actually help me find my way home!” 

With that, Ellie grips the huge steel handle of the front door of the offices, wrenches it open, and leaves. 

As she walks down the hallway, though, she begins to feel her anger crumbling rapidly around her as she struggles to find the lifts she and Lawrence had arrived in. She doubles-back down the corridor which all at once seems ten times longer than it initially felt. Had they walked through a door? She can’t remember.

The more she traces and re-traces her steps, the more she regrets her outburst. Yes, she might have been annoyed at Lawrence, but they’re her best chance of making sense of the city she’s found herself in. If they can’t help her find her way home then at the very least they make her feel safe in an unknown place. And if Ellie can’t even find her way out of this building on her own, then how the hell is she going to find her way back to Andalasia? 

Defeated and burst like a child’s balloon, Ellie sinks down against the dull, manila wall and sits on the floor, all the energy she has to care about airs and graces and how she should practise acting before she becomes a royal completely depleted. 

She thinks about her time in Glasgow so far. She thinks about how Lawrence sought her out and spoke to her when she was frightened, cold and alone. She thinks about how they took her in and gave her somewhere to sleep and dry clothes. She thinks about how they must have felt when Ellie ruined things with Veronica, how all Ellie had had to do was just stand in a cupboard to repay them for everything they’d already done for her. She thinks about their apology when they’d come home from work, and how they’d thanked Ellie for the things she’d done for them. She thinks about their shy smile and their kind eyes and their loud, uninhibited laugh.

She thinks about all the compliments they’ve given her, and her cheeks flush all over again.

It’s just as she’s beginning to become completely consumed by guilt that she hears a set of footsteps and the panting of somebody particularly out of breath, and she can’t help the way her whole body relaxes when she sees Lawrence round the corner. Their face seems to wash with relief when they see her, and as they get their breath back they elect to sit against the wall beside her. 

There’s lots of room, but they don’t leave much distance between them both. She’s not sure why, but it lifts Ellie’s heart even more, sets it racing like a million little butterfly wings.

“So you, eh. You didny make it to the lifts, then?” Lawrence speaks first, and Ellie has to snort at the ridiculousness of her own actions. 

“No. Shows how far I get when I don’t have you with me, doesn't it?” 

When Ellie turns to them to see how their joke’s been received, she’s surprised to find Lawrence’s face growing red. They’re getting their breath back, though. It’s probably nothing. 

“Cherry explained to me,” Lawrence starts quietly. “That she came up with the whole brunch-with-a-friend idea.”

Ellie nods, the shame in her own actions stabbing at her gut all over again. “I could’ve told you that, but instead I stormed off.”

“Yeah, but you also chose to do that instead of grassing Cherry up. You’re a good person,” Lawrence insists, making Ellie feel all the more guilty. 

“I’m not,” she sighs heavily, unable to bring herself to look at Lawrence as she fiddles with the hem of her dress. “You’ve been so good to me since I got here and I just…shouted at you and threw it all back in your face. And I keep messing things up for you. Your relationship, your job. If I were you I wouldn’t even have come looking for me.”

“Well, it seems I can’t leave you to fend for yourself in an unknown city either when I’m steamin' or when I’m stone cold sober. So unfortunately, babes, you’re stuck with me,” Lawrence says, and Ellie doesn’t miss the smile in their voice. When she turns to look at them, though, their smile falters, as if they’ve grown a little inhibited. “I’m really sorry for acting like a cunt, Ellie.”

Ellie smiles at their apology, but then frowns a little as she latches onto one of the words. “What is that?”

“Oh Christ. A word you probably shouldn’t repeat if you’re about to become a member of the royal family,” Lawrence chuckles to themself, and for once Ellie doesn’t mind not being let in on the joke. “Point is, I should give you more credit. You’re in a new city and you don’t know anyone and you somehow don’t even have a phone, or know what half the stuff in Glasgow even is. All I’ve done is boss you around since I met you.”

“That’s not true,” Ellie frowns, Lawrence meeting her eyes as she speaks. “You’ve done so much for me, Lawrence. You’re kind and generous and funny and good to talk to. I would be literally lost without you.”

The pair of them chuckle at Ellie’s weak joke. Atmosphere warmer, Ellie reaches out timidly and curls her fingers around Lawrence’s. Unlike earlier, Lawrence doesn’t look at her as if she’s done something wrong. Instead, their gaze softens as she speaks again.

“I’m really sorry for snapping at you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since I got here.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me too. All the tidying and dinner and breakfast and stuff,” Lawrence says quietly. There’s a beat in which Lawrence tears their gaze away from Ellie’s, looks down at their entwined hands and then lets go with a laugh. “Although I’ll never forgive you for making me run through this building.”

Ellie laughs with them, and it’s then that Lawrence rises from the floor and holds out a hand to help Ellie up. “Friends again, then?”

Ellie takes it as she stands up herself, nodding emphatically. “Friends again.”

***

Joe knew something was amiss when she hadn’t heard her daughter’s crying echoing through the palace halls when she returned from her meeting with the council. 

Rather naively she’d assumed that perhaps Tia had got over the whole thing; had realised that this wasn’t so much a true love as much as it had been a pretty girl she’d known for all of a day. But when Joe had gone to take her a cup of chamomile tea and found her bedchamber empty, she’d assumed she was sitting beside that godforsaken well again. 

She hadn’t been. 

She’d then checked the stables only to find her horse still standing patiently in its pen, and that none of the farmhands had seen Tia at all that day. That had set the first alarm bells ringing; Joe knew how much her daughter loved to explore, and that she always went out on her horse at least once each day. 

It’s unusual to be unable to find Tia if she’s not out on her horse. She is a girl of routine and habit, and she doesn’t tend to deviate from her usual haunts: her bedchamber, the piano in the lounge, the library, the stables. So when Joe hadn’t been able to find her, the panic had only risen in her throat. 

At that point, she’d decided she had to cheat a bit. 

She’d rushed to the concealed room in the palace that only she knows about, the place where she’s safe to practise and experiment and hone a craft she’s been perfecting for most of her life. Joe wouldn’t call herself a witch per se; she doesn’t regard herself as being particularly magical, she’s just someone who got lucky in the library and found an old spellbook on a high up shelf, hidden behind old volumes of encyclopaedias. For twenty year-old Joe, who hadn’t had much to do at the time except sit still and look pretty next to her husband, it was a hobby, something to fill her days with to bring her joy. Making potions that gave the King’s advisors squeaky voices and turned their faces green had filled Joe with childlike glee at a time when she didn’t have much to laugh about. 

Once she’d had Tia, she hadn’t given the whole idea of magic much entertainment, and there certainly hadn’t been as much time for her to mess around with spells once the King died and she took full reign. But as Tia has grown and Joe has become less involved, she’s found she has more time to expand her knowledge, to try and fail and succeed over and over again with different spells and potions. Over the years, she’s found that her success has started to far outweigh her failure, and she’s now proficient in many spells that she’d probably never really use on anyone, but are good to have in her arsenal in case the Kingdom ever needs defending.

One of her successes has been a magic mirror. She’d created it years ago- namely when Tia had been a teenager and Joe had to keep tabs on where she was to ensure she hadn’t snuck out of the palace grounds to visit any of the taverns in the kingdom- but hasn’t really needed it since Tia entered her twenties. That is, until now.

Joe hopes her worst fears aren’t true. 

Standing in the middle of the four cold, grey stone walls she knows are safe to practise her magic, surrounded by glass beakers and vials and a host of impossible ingredients, she bids the magic mirror to show her where Tia is. 

What’s presented to her draws a yelp from her throat.

Tia, in the very place Joe had banished Ellie to, wandering around alone, dressed in the same black dress she’d scolded her for wearing just hours before. 

A flood of emotions swallow Joe whole, the rawness and authenticity of them all leaving her frightened. The first is worry; thinking of her daughter all on her own in a strange city, with nowhere to go and no one to help her, brings a strange and uncomfortable feeling around her heart as if it’s being squeezed by barbed wire. The next is panic; if Tia finds Ellie, they’ll surely get married as planned and then Joe’s title, power and authority will all crumble around her like a dried-out sandcastle. 

The next is bitter and acidic, making her throat sting like a horrible medicine. She can’t put her finger on it, but when she thinks about the fact that all this is her fault because she sent her daughter’s love away to a far off place…

No , she thinks to herself, shrouding her heart in a suit of armour as she feels her mind fog up with stormclouds. This is Ellie’s fault. She’s probably put all sorts of ideas into Tia’s head. Anything for her to take the throne. 

Conclusions forming in her mind, the final and most overpowering emotion is an all-encompassing rage. Banishing Ellie should have been enough to prevent her from going any further, but Joe hadn’t counted on her daughter’s tenacity. So she has to take matters into her own hands; make sure Ellie is stopped once and for all. She needs to follow Tia, find her and get her away from the ridiculous blonde who thinks she can usurp the throne. 

Joe seeks out Ginny and prepares them, telling them she’ll be leaving for a few days on royal business and asking them to keep their ear to the ground in case any of her advisors begin to attempt a coup while she’s gone. Joe knows she won’t need to pack; she’s not planning on this trip lasting particularly long. 

Only…she might need to bring one thing. 

Frozen and silent as she thinks, Joe's chest becomes tight at even the thought of what’s popped into her head. What if Tia wouldn’t come home without Ellie? Then they’d return, and marry, and all the control Joe has over the kingdom and her life would be gone. She needs to make sure Ellie is put out of the picture for good. 

She thinks about her spellbook, thinks about the incantation on a page near the back that comes with a warning, that should be used with caution, that has an ornate and intricate illustration of a skull and crossbones at the top corner. 

Joe can hear her brain talking herself into it. You have to. There’s no other way. Tia will get over her; you need to put yourself first. You went so long having no control over your own life, and now you’re in charge of a whole kingdom. You can’t let some girl off the street take that away from you.

When she puts it like that, it seems as if she doesn’t have a choice.

Chapter Text

With their friendship mended, Lawrence guides Ellie out of the building and decides to take her on the tour of Glasgow they promised her last night. They walk her through the town centre where Ellie vaguely recognises places she’d passed on the night she arrived, which look far less ominous and frightening in the crisp Winter sunlight. Lawrence shows her the Lighthouse, both of them doubled over and out of breath by the time they reach the top but Ellie becoming absolutely enchanted by the view she gets to see. Lawrence acts as her own pair of binoculars, pointing at distant buildings and explaining them all to her, accompanying each with their own funny little commentary which makes Ellie burst out laughing every time they open their mouth.

They then make their way out of the hustle and bustle of the centre and through quieter streets towards a park Lawrence insists Ellie will love. They stop at a bakery which Lawrence says sells the best sausage rolls in Scotland, and as Ellie bites into hers she has to concede that whoever Greg is, he’s an incredibly skilled baker. 

All the while, Lawrence points out little places and tells her funny stories associated with them, and Ellie tells her her own stories from back in Andalasia. Eventually, talk turns to her impending wedding.

“So, this Princess Tia,” Lawrence smiles cheekily, brushing some crumbs off their dress that’ve clung to them like flaky snow. “What’s she like? She must be some bit of stuff to have you keep banging on about her like you do.”

“Shut up,” Ellie scolds them playfully, before tilting her face up to the cold air and squinting at the clouds as she thinks. “Well, she’s beautiful, and she’s got long, straight dark hair. She’s tall-”

“What, as tall as you? That canny be possible,” Lawrence jokes, nudging Ellie’s side a little. Ellie snorts. 

“Eh, yes as tall as me thank you very much!” she says, the ghost of her laugh still on her lips as she continues. “And her eyes…”

Ellie bites her lip and tries to think. What colour are Tia’s eyes again? She’s sure they’re brown, but maybe they’re green? They’re beautiful, in any event. Just like Lawrence’s eyes. Lawrence’s eyes are beautiful. 

“Aw, let me guess. Do they sparkle like the stars or some-fucking-other Primary 7 level simile?” Lawrence cuts in before Ellie can fully process her thoughts, and she laughs in response even though her heart isn’t quite in it. Lawrence crumples up their wrapper as they continue, throws it into a bin on their way into a gated green park, lush even in the dead of Winter. “Aye, I’m sure she’s just as stunning as me and, of course, as skinny, but what’s she like ? Y’know, is she good chat, is she funny, does she do nice things for you or get you wee gifts just because?”

Ellie scrunches her face up. “I...I don’t really know.”

“What d’you mean you don’t know?!” Lawrence scoffs. “What, d’you just sit and stare at each other in silence every time you see each other?”

“Well, we’ve only known each other a day,” Ellie admits, wincing when she hears the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet as Lawrence skids to a stop, eyeing her incredulously. 

“Naw. Naw, naw, naw, there’s no way! I refuse to believe there’s this much drama over some lassie you’ve known a day,” they blurt out dramatically, drawing the attention of some passers-by. 

Ellie thinks for a moment, then brightens up. “Well actually, by now, we’ve known each other three days!”

“Oh, my apologies. Three days. Happy anniversary. Christ on a quad bike,” Lawrence rolls their eyes, before they continue to walk alongside Ellie and give her a look through narrowed eyes. “Ellie, how can you be talking about being in love with and marrying a girl you’ve known for three days?”

“Because!” Ellie sighs happily, then laughs at her own lovesickness. “It was love at first sight! True love, y’know? And once we get married, we’ll share true love’s kiss, the most powerful thing in the world.”

“Naw, hang on, it gets better! You’ve no even kissed yet?!” Lawrence throws their head back in mirth, the genuine glee to their reaction offsetting any irritation Ellie could possibly feel about their mocking. Their face grows scheming as they speak again, a glint appearing in their eyes. “Wait...so you’ve no even done... anything yet?”

Ellie’s blush smacks her across the face; she can practically feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. She doesn’t even have to answer before Lawrence is speaking again.

“Oh, Princess Ellie. You’re such a lady ,” Lawrence sticks their tongue out as they tease her, a giggle cutting through their words as they continue. “Wish I had an ounce of your self-restraint. I practically rode Veronica inty battle the night of our first date.”

The fact that their tone borders on flirtatious combined with the images that flood Ellie’s mind in response to their sentence makes her blush even worse, and it takes her a second to compose herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s getting so flustered. It’s just Lawrence, for fuck’s sake. 

“Well, how long have you known Veronica?” Ellie steers the conversation away from her thoughts, peeling off from the path for a second to admire the river that’s trickling through the park and the trees adorned with leftovers of Autumn, sparse jewels of orange, red and yellow framing the cold, dark grey of the water. 

“Three years,” Lawrence says, joining Ellie by the river’s edge and leaning against the cool, black railings of the fence that runs alongside it.

“Three years? That’s an awfully long time to go without marrying someone,” Ellie says, surprised. She can’t imagine waiting three years to marry Princess Tia. 

“Well, usually people go on dates first before they marry someone. No book the bastardin’ venue the first time their eyes meet,” Lawrence grins playfully at her. Ellie’s confused, though, at a word Lawrence has used. 

“Dates?”

“What, don’t tell me you don’t have dates in Andalasia?” they ask, not waiting for Ellie to respond before they explain. “A date is something you go on when you like somebody and want to get to know them. You go to a restaurant, or to get coffee, or to a museum like the one in this park. Anything, really. And you talk, and you find out things about each other.”

Ellie thinks, then screws her face up in disbelief at Lawrence. “For three years?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Lawrence chuckles. “Sometimes longer.”

Ellie closes her eyes and shakes her head as she turns away from the river and continues up the path. None of it makes sense to her; going to restaurants, cafes or museums for years on end before you’re finally allowed to marry your true love. “But why do people wait so long?”

Lawrence shrugs. “Because for some people, marriage isny really the be-all-and-end-all of a relationship, Princess Ellie. I mean fuck, I’ve seen enough people end their marriages to know that.”

“Well, Veronica’s your true love, isn’t she?” 

Something about Lawrence shifts for a moment. They become a little quieter, a little more subdued, as if there’s a cloud above their head. Ellie turns to them with curiosity, about to question them when they finally nod their head and answer. “Yes, of course.”

“Then you should propose to her! Otherwise how else will she know that you love her?”

Lawrence grimaces, shrugging as they shove their hands in their coat pockets. “You don’t need to marry someone to prove that you love them. Veronica knows I love her, we just don’t...talk about it every minute of the day, that’s all.”

“But if you don’t talk about it, then how does she know?” Ellie frowns. A guitar strum breaks into her consciousness from a busker who’s sat on a bench, and an idea comes to her as she begins to sing. “How does she know you love her?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Lawrence flinches, casting a gaze over passers-by who are looking at Ellie strangely. 

“How does she know she’s yours?” Ellie continues, undeterred. Lawrence’s hands are immediately ripped out of their pockets as they take Ellie by the elbow and rush her forward. 

“Okay! Message received, I get it. You can stop singing now.”

As they hurry past, the strum from the guitar gets more insistent. As Ellie looks back, the busker shoots her a smile and begins to sing. 

“How does she know that you love her?”

Ellie’s face bursts out into an excited smile as Lawrence whips around in shock. “He knows the song?”

Ignoring them, Ellie runs up to the busker and joins in. “How do you show her you love her?”

“How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?” the two of them sing, as Lawrence marches up to them and smiles tightly at the busker. 

“Good job, mate. Beats Wonderwall any day. Can we go now?” they plead with Ellie as they cast an eye over the growing crowd. But Ellie is too caught up in the song, and she and the busker continue to sing even as she allows herself to be pulled away by Lawrence. 

“It's not enough to take the one you love for granted,

You must remind her or she'll be inclined to say,”  Ellie sings, running off along the path and then down a grassy hill where some people are sitting on benches, huddled up in their Winter coats. They all turn to look at Ellie as she passes them.

“How do I know they love me? 

How do I know they’re mine?”

Along the path, some teenage boys seem to be spraying a can of paint against a wall, as a group of girls lean against the fence opposite and scroll their phones, bored. Ellie gets another idea as she continues the song, skipping towards them with Lawrence, the busker, and the people from the hill in tow.

“Ellie, I wouldny go near them-”

“Well, do they leave a little note to tell you

You are on their mind?” she sings brightly, snatching the paint can from one boy and ignoring his protestations as she fills the wall with love hearts. The girls on their phones look up, and their tough facade is broken as they gaze at their male counterparts with a smile. Encouraged, the boys look down at the scrub of trampled grass and each pick a dandelion, crossing over and gifting it to the girls. 

“Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey?

Hey!” Ellie sings happily, linking arms with Lawrence and grinning at them as she continues. 

“They’ll find a new way to show you,

A little bit everyday,

That's how you know,

That's how you know they’re your love!”

Lawrence shakes their head at her in resignation as they tug her along. “Very nice duet wi the Hillhead Young Team. Y’done now?”

But Ellie ignores them as she spots a playground, running towards it with excitement and jumping into a roundabout. The children already on it look at her with a mixture of wonder and confusion, and it’s not long until Lawrence is racing over to her urgently. 

“Ellie! Get out the playpark. There’s parents staring at us!” they hiss, clambering onto the roundabout in a bid to talk to Ellie properly. 

The roundabout lurches and Lawrence is knocked back into a seat as the teenagers screech with devilish laughter and begin to spin it round as fast as it can go. The children squeal in delight as Lawrence gives a loud “whoa!” of fear, and Ellie joyfully continues the song. 

“You’ve got to show her you need her,

Don't treat her like a mind reader,

Each day do something to lead her

To believe you love her!”

The roundabout comes to a stop as the teenagers get bored and the kids all stagger off of it, gleeful and dizzy. Lawrence looks as if they’re about to be sick, but Ellie is too caught up in the song and the message to nurse them back to health. Just then she spots a grand red-brick building at the top of a hill, and a bride and groom getting photos taken as a wedding party stands and watches adoringly. She gasps in excitement and breaks away from Lawrence and the playpark, running up the hill with the kids and their parents, the teenagers, the hill-sitters and the busker following after. 

“Ellie…no...” Lawrence shouts after her, dismay coating their words as Ellie twirls towards the couple. 

“Everybody wants to live happily ever after

Everybody wants to know their true love is true,” Ellie sings as she reaches them, taking the surprised couples’ hands and joining them together before twirling them around in a dance. 

The pair look surprised but not exactly adverse to what’s happening, and before Ellie knows it everyone she’s gathered is joining in with the choreography as Lawrence catches them up, out of breath from having to run up the hill after them.

“How do you know they love you?

How do you know they’re yours?” Ellie sings, batting her lashes at Lawrence in a bid to make them forgive her for running off up a hill and crashing a wedding.

Lawrence fixes her with a look of annoyance which the twinkle in their eyes betrays the authenticity of, and Ellie takes advantage of their weakness, taking them by the hand and twirling them around in a dance. 

“Well, do they take you out dancing

Just so they can hold you close?

Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?

Ooh!”

“I’m gay, I should be able to sing and dance,” Lawrence frowns, their movements awkward and stiff as Ellie spins around them with ease. 

“They’ll find their own way to tell you,

With the little things they’ll do,

That's how you know,

That's how you know they’re your love,” Ellie finishes the chorus and smiles at Lawrence, who seems to attempt to roll their eyes and give up halfway through, fixing her with a small grin instead. 

“Aye, very good. Point made,” Lawrence says bashfully. An idea occurs to Ellie, and she takes Lawrence’s hands urgently, her eyes wide as the dancing continues around them both. 

“What’s Veronica’s favourite colour?” she asks quickly, Lawrence startled and taking a second to answer. 

“Uh...green?” they say hesitantly, before Ellie sings out the little melody that summons the animals. In no time at all, two snow-white doves appear with an arrangement of flowers and leaves in a heart-shaped wreath, green grasses and stems interwoven around the occasional purple flower. 

Lawrence’s jaw drops open. “How did you…”

Ellie forgets their shock for a moment and speaks to the birds. “Can you take these to Veronica, babes?”

As they fly away, Lawrence is left stuttering and stammering in disbelief. Laughing at the fact that they’re the one that’s confused for a change, Ellie runs off as she continues the song, the crowd of people following and joining in growing ever-larger. Nearing a skate park, Ellie disregards the skaters and shimmies up to the highest ramp, letting her legs kick off the side as she stares down at Lawrence who finally catches her up. Ellie is suddenly surrounded by a frame of four pink skateboards, the skaters joining in with the song too.

“Because they'll wear your favorite color

Just so they can match your eyes!”

“Your eyes areny pink, babes.”

“Plan a private picnic by the fire's glow

Oh!”

“In Scotland? Aye, right,” Lawrence continues cynically, before their face changes into one of shock as Ellie mounts one of the skateboards and skates it off the ramp as she sings. 

“Their heart will be yours forever

Something everyday will show

That's how you know- oh!” Ellie cries, as she loses her balance and the skateboard wobbles violently. Her arms windmill once, twice, before she starts to tumble to the ground, only to be caught in a pair of arms and fall back onto someone that feels awfully similar to Lawrence.

The “whoa!”  they emit confirms it and Ellie turns around in their arms, thanking them with a smile which, she’s not too sure, but seems to colour their cheeks with the faintest of blushes. Before she knows it she’s looking into Lawrence’s eyes, and Lawrence doesn’t quite seem to be able to tear their gaze away from hers either.  

Blinking firmly and refocusing, Ellie tears herself away to join the crowd on the bridge over the water, singing all the while if only to drown out some tiny whispers that have appeared in her mind in response to the moment she’s just broken away from. 

“That's how you know,

That's how you know,

That's how you know,” she continues, running across the bridge and perching herself up on the edge of the fountain as the crowd dances around her. She throws her arms out as she finishes the song triumphantly. 

“That's how you know they’re your love!”

The crowd erupts into claps and cheers, and Ellie thanks them graciously as Lawrence catches up with her, walks towards them with a humoured smile on their face as they offer her a hand down from the fountain’s edge. For a moment it seems as if they’re about to say something, and despite herself Ellie finds herself holding her breath until there’s a hum from Lawrence’s coat pocket and they pause to answer their phone. 

“Vee?...Aw, eh, aye, you’re so welcome. I thought you’d like them,” Lawrence says into their phone, mouthing at Ellie that Veronica got the flowers. 

Ellie smiles. She’s happy that she was able to mend things between Veronica and Lawrence. After all, she’s their true love, just like her and Princess Tia. 

Nothing can change that. 

Much of the afternoon is spent walking back into the hustle and bustle of the town centre and away from the park, hopping back onto the underground train and going back to Lawrence’s flat. Lawrence suggests that they take Ellie out for something to eat for dinner, having still not got any ingredients to make anything and not wanting to ask Ellie to make the dinner for a second time. There seems to be a shared understanding that Ellie is staying the night again. She’s glad, even though sleeping on the sofa is beginning to grow a little uncomfortable. Lawrence is such a safe and comforting presence to Ellie in an unknown city full of unknown people, and with every passing moment they spend together Ellie finds herself forgetting to worry about how to get back to Andalasia or if Princess Tia will ever come to rescue her, or even want to marry her any more. 

It’s almost as if when Ellie sees Lawrence, the static and white noise in her head falls silent because she knows that when she’s with them, everything is going to be alright. 

As Lawrence gets themselves ready, Ellie fashions her old wedding dress into something new. Much of the outfit is ruined anyway from her first night in Glasgow, so she takes the white silk of the underskirts, makes them into a slip dress with a cowl neck and thin straps. She supposes she might be cold, but she’s sure Lawrence will lend her a jacket. They’re kind like that. 

Ellie is taking the rest of her hair out of its plait and shaking it out so that the loose waves of her blonde hair rest on her shoulders when Lawrence appears in the living room. Ellie doesn’t think they know she can see them from her position at the mirror, so when their gaze falls on her and their lips press together, Ellie worries that she’s overdressed. 

Spinning around and facing them, Ellie’s surprised when Lawrence’s eyes fly open in surprise. “Is it too much?”

“No, not at all! I mean you…” Lawrence begins, then stops as they look Ellie up and down once more. There’s something to the way Lawrence is behaving, the way they seem to buzz with apprehension and hesitation that sets Ellie a little bit on edge until they smile tightly in a way that doesn’t quite meet their eyes. “You look nice.”

Ellie takes a moment to take in the way Lawrence is dressed too. They’re wearing a blue-grey jumpsuit with a sparkling brooch pinned at the neckline, and their hair is loose in curls which fan out over their shoulders. Their makeup is gentle with a smoke of silvery eyeshadow across their eyelids, their eyelashes long and full and perfectly framing their eyes. 

She’s always thought grey is a boring colour. Thing is, when it’s paired with purple and worn by Lawrence Chaney, it seems to transform into the most enrapturing colour in the world. 

“So do you,” Ellie remarks, an endeavour that only seems to draw Lawrence further into themself as they bashfully look to the ground and stifle a smile. 

The restaurant they end up in serves pasta and pizza, and Ellie chooses a spaghetti bolognese that Lawrence jokes will stain her dress, so she has to tuck her napkin into her dress to eat it. It’s messy and a bit of a faff to eat, and Ellie finds herself wishing she’d ordered a pizza like Lawrence had. Slurping up pasta and sauce would hardly be becoming of a member of the royal family. 

Ellie has almost forgotten that that’s what she’s going to be. 

Still, the sight of Ellie hunched over her plate- pasta spilling out of her mouth and sauce all round her lips- makes Lawrence wheeze with laughter. Although it’s a little embarrassing, Ellie doesn’t fight the sense of pride she feels at managing to crack them up in the way she does, and the more they talk and joke together the more the slight butterflies that were in her stomach at the start of the night start to dissipate, even though she’s not really sure why they were there in the first place. They share stories and swap experiences; her heart breaks when Lawrence tells her about getting picked on in school, and it warms when they tell her stories about her Granny and what an absolute riot she used to be. Ellie tells them the highs and lows of having to share the kingdom with animal friends but also ogres and giants, and opens up to Lawrence about how she’s nervous to marry into the royal family.

“I’d say that out of all the people I know,” Lawrence shrugs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “...you’re probably the one that’s already the most like a Princess. And the royals are fucking lucky to have you joining their ranks.”

Ellie can feel herself blush as they smile gently at her, squeeze her hand and then let it go, moving onto some story about the royal family here and what an absolute disaster they all are. She’s never had someone like Lawrence before, someone who unflinchingly cheers her on and supports her and doesn’t think she should change. Even when there’s something that Ellie doesn’t know about Glasgow, Lawrence will take the time to explain it to her. They just have this way of making her feel totally comfortable, even in an unknown place.

Maybe that’s the reason that, by the time they order a dessert (tiramisu- much less messy), Ellie’s emboldened enough to ask a question that’s been on her mind all day. 

“Lawrence,” she begins, receiving a cheeky smile in return from across the table and a flick of Lawrence’s lilac curls. 

“Princess Ellie,” they reply jovially, setting Ellie’s heart sinking as they don’t realise the avenue this conversation is about to turn down. She stabs her spoon into the dessert before realising she’s no longer hungry. 

“That first night I stayed at yours. You said you keep talking yourself out of proposing to Veronica. How come, if she’s your true love?”

Lawrence seems to deflate. Shutters go down behind their eyes and they heave a sigh. They try to begin a sentence and then stop, before starting again, quiet and sincere. 

“Because I’m not sure that she is my true love.”

Ellie’s shocked for only a moment before she thinks about how they’d grown quiet earlier in the park when Ellie had asked them about Veronica. She thinks about how Lawrence had prioritised shoving her into a cupboard over explaining things to her. She thinks about how they’d hesitated, had to think before telling Ellie her favourite colour. 

Ellie knows Lawrence’s favourite colour is purple. 

“Oh,” is all she can reply. It’s feeble and it’s not enough and it makes Ellie sad. She wants Veronica to be Lawrence’s true love. She wants Lawrence to be happy.

“We started going out when I was 22,” Lawrence explains, avoiding Ellie’s eyes and fiddling with an edge of their napkin. “She was my first girlfriend. We worked so well at the time, but then...all the magic started to fade. Not that the relationship’s terrible and unhappy, but we aren’t the same people any more. And sometimes I find myself wondering if this is it, if this is all there is to love. If it’s only meant to be a fleeting and beautiful year or so and then it fades into a comfortable sort of purgatory in which two people just act out the same routines and go through the motions for all eternity like some fucking...animatronic display at a garden centre.”

Lawrence’s voice dissolves into little more than a murmur as they speak again after a beat of silence. “I don’t really know if true love is a thing, Ellie.”

“But it is!” Ellie insists, panic flooding her lungs because if true love isn’t real then that would mean she’s decided on a whim to get married to a girl she barely even knows, and that would be insane. “I mean…there’s a reason why you fell in love in the first place, isn’t there?”

“I know, and there is, and there was , and I do still love Veronica! I just…don’t know if I love her enough to want to spend my whole life with her,” Lawrence says sadly. 

Ellie believes them. Their voice is impassioned and their words are emphatic and Ellie knows they mean what they say. It’s the fact they mean what they say that’s frightening her. She’s always thought that once two people are in love, it’s forever. But what had Lawrence’s client said in the office? Sometimes still being in love with someone isn‘t enough. 

“It’s like…” Lawrence starts, their gaze firmly on the table in front of them and not even slightly on Ellie. “What if somebody came along and just confirmed everything for me? What if one day I met someone and they were so vibrant and magnetic that I couldn’t help but be taken in by them? What if every time I talked to them they were so intriguing and funny and listened to everything I said without judging me? What if they were always so determined to do kind things for me, and never once took me for granted? What if they were one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever met, and…I couldn’t tell them any of this, because it’s only been three days, for fuck’s sake, and I’m with Veronica and that’s that?”

Ellie feels her heart leap into her throat at Lawrence’s words. She tries to drown them out with her own thoughts. She thinks about Tia and wills herself to feel her heart race, wills herself to feel the pull of an invisible string, wills herself to feel anything. 

Why doesn’t she feel anything?

“You’re wrong, Lawrence,” she shakes her head, because maybe if she says it she’ll start to believe it. “True love is real, maybe you just don’t believe in it. And that’s fine, y’know? I know we’re different people, and we don’t have to agree on everything-”

“We’re not that different!” Lawrence interrupts, their face almost…disappointed? Offended? Ellie doesn’t quite know what to say, and Lawrence’s face twists into a little smirk. “Right, c’mon. We’ll get the bill, then we’ll head back home. I want to show you something.”

Ellie wishes Lawrence’s use of the word we didn’t make her feel like she’s made of champagne, all fizzy and bubbly inside, but it does, even during the whole journey back to Lawrence’s flat in the Uber. Ellie squashes down the urge she gets to take their hand even though it had felt so right the first time, because it’s not right, it’s wrong, all of this and all her feelings are wrong. This isn’t how she’s meant to feel. 

Lawrence, who had been talking sporadically the whole ride home, grows quiet the moment their key turns in the lock of their front door. It unsettles Ellie. She wants Lawrence to be their usual loud self, wants them to drown out what’s going on in Ellie’s mind with jokes. Instead, they beckon her along the hall to a door which Ellie hasn’t seen being opened the whole time she’s been staying with them. 

“This is what I wanted to show you. Nobody’s really ever seen this room before. Veronica has, once, and Cherry too a few times, but that’s about it,” they explain quietly, before opening the door and reaching down to flick a switch along the bottom of the wall. 

All at once the room is flooded with a soft purple glow from the lights strung along the ceiling, and Ellie holds back a gasp. 

It’s small, and inside is filled with dresses on hangers and on mannequins; beautiful dresses of every fabric, style, colour and pattern Ellie could imagine. In the middle there’s a chair on wheels and a table, on top of which sits a machine that Ellie has never seen before, but she can soon tell is used for sewing. 

Lawrence is quiet beside her, and Ellie turns to them in wonder. “You sew too? You made all of this?”

“I told you we’re not that different,” they smile, clasping their hands together nervously. “When you mentioned that you made clothes that night you cooked dinner, I thought about showing you everything I’ve made. But…I don’t know. I’ve always secretly wanted to open my own clothing store, like you said you wanted to too. It’s something I like doing in my spare time, but it can’t be more than that. It’s just a dream, you know? But it’s a dream that I hold so close to my heart that I always find it a wee bit daunting letting other people in on it.”

“You’re so talented, Lawrence,” Ellie can’t help but frown at them in disbelief, absent-mindedly running her fingers over a strapless, light blue ballgown with blue gems as little details. “I mean, I would wear this given half the chance.”

“You’d look stunning in it, too,” Lawrence says earnestly.

Their words set off a flare in Ellie’s ribcage that’s so powerful and so blinding that she can barely stand the way it makes her feel any longer. She turns around and shakes her head, unable to do anything but look Lawrence right in the eye as she asks them breathlessly. 

“You keep saying I’m beautiful and stunning and pretty and all these things…” she hears herself whisper, looks down into Lawrence’s kaleidoscope eyes and feels her heart so full it’s as if it’s going to pop. She frowns ever so slightly, confused and mixed-up and not even sure what she wants their answer to be. “...why?”

Lawrence’s eyes are wide, and their face is tilted up to Ellie, and their answer is simple and immediate. 

“Because you are.”

There’s static in the air as something pulls Ellie towards them, and they’re close in front of her, and Ellie thinks that her feelings are going to completely consume her as she tilts her head down like she’s under a spell. 

All at once something shatters and cracks, and the electricity that’s been hanging heavy over the evening dissipates as Lawrence takes a step back, something almost fearful in their wide eyes as they blink once, twice, and then turn towards their bedroom. 

“I’m gonny go to bed. Sleep well, yeah?” they rush out, before quickly retreating through the door and closing it with a decisive thud. 

Ellie is left standing in the room, bathed in the glow of the purple lights, surrounded by everything Lawrence is and everything Lawrence wants to be. She touches her lips absent-mindedly, possessed by the ghost of a moment that never was.

All at once, that’s how she knows. 

***

The park is dark by the time Tia reaches it, and the cold barely has time to catch her with the way she’s run in her heels in the same dress she’d arrived in earlier. It’s empty save for a few dog-walkers and joggers, and even though Tia’s heart sinks in disappointment, she doesn’t really know what she’d expected. 

She’s barely stopped all day. Crawling out of a hole in the ground and almost being flattened by a strange cuboid monster was certainly an exhilarating start, one that was preferable to the sea of blank faces and raised eyebrows she’d received every time she’d asked somebody if they’d seen a beautiful blonde girl in a wedding dress wandering the streets. Her feet had grown sore and her limbs had grown tired and she must have combed every street she was able to travel before she’d finally chosen some sort of tavern to eat at. 

Except, when she’d attempted to order some food, reached into her little coin purse and produced a handful of gold coins, the man behind the counter just gave a hearty laugh. 

“Am no sure what century you’ve stumbled out of, hen, but I canny accept those as legal tender,” he’d smiled, an apologetic tone evident in his voice. 

Tia had rested her head against the bar, exhausted and fed up and rapidly losing hope. She’d never expected finding Ellie would be so hard, but then again she supposed a quest like this was never going to be easy. Just as she had been about to leave and continue her search, the man had spoken again.

“Are you alright, hen? Is there anything I can do to help?” he’d asked, concern in his eyes as Tia had looked up and met them. 

Sighing, Tia had explained her story. “I’m trying to find a girl…she’s my true love, only I lost her and I don’t know where she is. She’s tall…long, blonde hair, blue eyes. She likes to sing, and she’ll be wearing a wedding dress. Have you seen her?”

The man had frowned, and Tia had prepared herself for another disappointment before he’d reached into his back pocket and produced a glowing rectangle that Tia had seen many people use since she arrived here. 

“I don’t know about a wedding dress, but I have seen a blonde girl singing. There was this big…flashmob sort of thing in the park earlier today. I got a video,” he’d explained with a shrug, before turning the rectangle around and showing it to Tia. “This wouldn’t be her, would it?”

All at once, Tia had felt her jaw drop and adrenaline fill her veins as she’d watched Ellie, her Ellie, dancing through a park amongst a wedding party and singing in the voice Tia had fallen in love with. She was wearing different clothes, and her hair was tied back, but Tia still recognised her.

“Oh my gosh,” she’d whispered breathlessly, clapping a hand to her mouth. “Where is this?”

“Kelvingrove, sweetheart. Come out of here and take a right, and keep following the road until you see a sign for the Central Gurdwara. Then follow the sign and go right along that street until you get to the gates,” the man had explained. 

Gratitude flooding her heart, Tia had launched herself over the bar and wrapped her arms around the kind man, thanking him at least three times before making her way through the crowd and following his directions, her hunger replaced with excitement. 

They had worked, and now she’s here, but at this point she’s not sure what to do next. There are three paths each made out of the same scrabbly stone, and Tia doesn’t have a clue which one to take. 

That is until two pigeons come to rest on the bench in front of her, chirping with their heads tilted to look at Tia in a way that makes her feel as if they somehow know something. 

“You haven’t seen Ellie, have you?” 

All at once, the pigeons begin to chirp a little tune; the same tune that Ellie had been singing when the man had shown her the video back in the inn. Tia feels a firework explode in her heart. 

“Do you know where she went? Do you think you could take me to her?” Tia asks the pigeons, hoping they’ve seen Ellie on their flight around the city or at least can take her part of the way.

One pigeon flaps its wings and grasps the edge of Tia’s sleeve gently in its beak, while the other grabs the hem of her dress in its talons, and together they steer Tia back the way she’d come before going in the opposite direction down the street. 

Tia’s heart hammers and she quickens her pace, ignoring her aching feet and the gnawing hunger in her stomach. She’s getting ever closer to finding her true love. 

Chapter Text

Joe has to put a lot of thought into this. 

She can’t re-use that old hag disguise that had worked so well for her before. After all, Ellie might look as if she’s got an abandoned barn for a brain, but she’s clearly smarter than she seems if she’s lasted this long in Glasgow. Joe can’t see Ellie getting tricked as easily again. 

No, she won’t use a disguise this time. She’ll just go as herself, act as if she’s only searching for Tia. Maybe then she could actually talk to her, persuade her to come home without a fuss. Maybe she won’t even need to poison Ellie. 

Joe carefully turns the small vial full of pink, frothy liquid over in her hand, looking at the label she’d tacked onto it. The label is more of a prop if anything, more of a plan B than a plan A. Her preferred plan is to be able to slip the poison into something Ellie drinks; easy enough, and she doesn’t have to implicate herself by doing any convincing.

If that doesn’t work out, however, she’s going to have to try to convince Ellie to drink it of her own volition. 

That’s why she’s marketed it as a love potion. It’s exactly the sort of ridiculousness she knows Ellie will fall for, judging by how quickly she and Tia had arranged a wedding. Joe snorts with derision to herself as she remembers how excitedly Tia had told Joe all about her, and their plans, and how they met. As if two people could fall in love in just one meeting. 

She has to wonder how her daughter could believe that. She has always raised Tia to be practical and rational, reinforced to her time and time again that as a woman of the royal family she needed to keep her guard high and her walls higher. She’s unsure how Tia could fall in love so fast.

And then a thought creeps into her mind like smoke under a door, a nasty, evil little voice whispers to her. Maybe the reason she’s so desperate for love is because she’s never been shown any. 

Joe scowls to herself, squeezes her eyes shut and feels the anger flood her veins. Of course not. She’s been a good Mother. All she’s tried to do since Tia was born is protect her. Clearly this threat to the throne is messing with her head. All of this is Ellie’s fault. 

So Joe secures the cork on the lid of the vial, gives the liquid a little shake and watches in satisfaction as some small bubbles appear at the top.

“Aww,” Joe pouts mockingly to herself. “Princess Ellie. No crown for you.”

With that, she makes her way to the well.

***

Ellie feels strange.

It’s as if she’s wandering around in some sort of dream, slightly numb to life happening around her as she sets out the bowls and plates onto Lawrence’s little dining table. Her feelings and thoughts are filling her head like a huge cloud, fogging her vision and impairing her judgement. 

That’s the only reason she can think of for her urge to kiss Lawrence last night. The whole thing was irrational, a severe lapse in her sensible decision-making process. She’s clearly suffering from withdrawal as a result of not having seen Tia in so long, and was simply looking for affection from any place she could receive it. Tia’s her true love, and Veronica is Lawrence’s. 

Clearly being in this place for too long is messing with her head.

In a bid to reset her thoughts and remind herself of the truths of her life as she knows it, Ellie has sent off a letter in the talons of two wood pigeons inviting Veronica round to breakfast at Lawrence’s flat. She had explained, through what she assumes is less than perfect spelling, how she came to be living with Lawrence and how they really had been kind to them and taken them in. She’d also written about how Lawrence has told Ellie how much she loves Veronica, which is true. Ellie leaves out the details of their conversation in the restaurant last night. Lawrence clearly had a similar lapse in judgement, too. 

When Lawrence shuffles through in their black sweatpants and their hair all swept up in a bun, Ellie almost has to physically shake the affectionate thoughts out of her head. 

“Hey,” she greets them, trying to inject some normalcy into her tone. 

Lawrence’s smile comes easily and immediately as their eyes fall on Ellie and then on the set table. “You don’t need to make me breakfast every day, y’know.”

Ellie shrugs, turning around and walking into the kitchen so she doesn’t have to see Lawrence’s reaction to her words. “Well, it’s good practice for when I’m married to Princess Tia.”

They’re silent in response. Ellie can cope with silence. It’s their words that she struggles so much with. 

“How come we’ve got three places set?” Lawrence asks as they sit down. “Don’t tell me your Princess is here already. If she’s parked her white horse outside she’ll need a permit.”

“I invited Veronica,” Ellie says simply, turning around just in time to watch Lawrence’s face fall. They look as if they don’t quite know what to say, so Ellie fills the empty space. “She’s still your true love, you just haven’t really seen much of her since I arrived, that’s all. So your head’s probably all mixed up and you’re forgetting all the things you love about her because I’ve just been…in the way.”

Lawrence is quiet as they move the handle of their fork slightly. They don’t meet Ellie’s gaze as they speak. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Ellie’s heart plunges into her gut. She doesn’t know what she was expecting Lawrence to say. It’s good that they agree with her. It’s for the best. The alternative is complicated and messy and her entire situation is already tangled up enough. Ellie watches as Lawrence taps away on their phone, a small frown on their face. 

She wonders if they’re annoyed at her. She doesn’t ask. 

Just then, the sound of Lawrence’s buzzer cuts through the silence of the flat, and Ellie fixes a smile to her face that she hopes appears authentic as she flashes it at Lawrence. “Go get your girl.”

The smile that Lawrence shoots them before they get up and make their way to the door doesn’t quite meet their eyes. 

Ellie shuffles back into the kitchen to fetch the boxes of cereal she knows are in the cupboard, but even from there she can hear Lawrence and Veronica’s soft greeting and the sound of a gentle kiss from the hall. Ellie wishes she could help the way it all feels like a punch to her chest, because she knows it shouldn’t feel that way. It doesn’t make sense for it to feel that way. 

When Veronica appears at the table, Ellie shoots her a smile she hopes appears as welcoming as possible. She’s relieved when Veronica smiles back, even if it’s hesitant and wary. 

“Hi!” Ellie says cheerfully, accompanying it with a little wave. Veronica does the same back before sitting at the table. 

“Ellie, thanks so much for inviting me,” she says, her tone almost apologetic. “You must think I’m a right moody cow after the first time we met! But your letter was so lovely. And between all the apology texts and that gorgeous bunch of flowers from the other day, I think Lawrence is pretty much out of the doghouse by now.”

“Listen, Vee, the whole thing with Ellie…I mean, if you got lost in a strange city and somebody left you out on the streets, I’d be raging. I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet until her girlfriend gets here,” Lawrence explains, as Ellie nods earnestly. 

“Loz, honestly, if you say nothing happened, nothing happened,” Veronica looks at them lovingly, then rests a hand on top of theirs. “I trust you.” 

Ellie takes a sip from her tea. Trust . Could she trust somebody she’s known for only a day? 

“Well,” Lawrence shrugs as they pour themselves a bowl of cereal and distract Ellie from her thoughts. “I’ve got another surprise for you, just to make a hundred percent sure I’m in the good books again. Cherry’s throwing a ball tonight, and I managed to get tickets. Up for it?”

Ellie is sure this will be received well. She knows that if she got invited to a ball by the love of her life, she’d be over the moon. As her gaze falls on Veronica, though, she’s confused to find her biting her lip.

“Tonight? I’d love to, babe, but you know it’s such short notice.”

“Aw, come on. It’ll be a laugh!” Lawrence insists, enthusiastic even though the sparkle in their eyes has gone out just a bit. “I’m sure Veronica Green can make a spontaneous decision just this once in her life.”

Veronica scrunches her face up awkwardly. “What would I even wear?”

“You could wear something I made,” Lawrence shrugs, but they’re clearly nervous about having suggested it. 

“Oh no, it’s alright, love. I’m sure you’d have to do a million alterations and whatnot, it would be such a hassle,” Veronica replies. “Alright, fuck it, I’ll come with you! I’m sure I can pick something up in the sale section somewhere.” 

Ellie thinks about how Lawrence spoke about their craft last night, how much their dream meant to them. She’s sure Veronica doesn’t mean it, but the fact she’s just brushed Lawrence off like that must have hurt them.

Ellie would hate to hurt Lawrence. 

“Lawrence was showing me the dresses they’d made last night,” Ellie chips in, eager to cheer them up. “They’re gorgeous, eh?”

“God, yeah. They’re beautiful,” Veronica nods with enthusiasm, and as Ellie looks back across at Lawrence she notices the twinkle that’s appeared back in their eyes. She wonders if it had been her or Veronica who’d put it there. 

Keen to help Lawrence’s spirits rise more, Ellie speaks again. “I mean, they could totally open their own shop or start their own label if they wanted to!”

“I’m sure they could! Definitely something to think about for the future,” Veronica agrees, before taking a little bite out of the toast Ellie had made earlier.

Ellie is confused by her response. “Why not now?” 

“Well, because they’re already very good at being a lawyer and they’ve worked hard to get to where they are now,” Veronica explains, her eyebrows raised. “It would be a big loss to the legal world if Lawrence stopped doing what they were doing!”

“Thanks, babes,” Lawrence smiles at her, squeezing her hand quickly. 

There’s something forced in their smile, though, something dull in their eyes. Ellie is bemused by Veronica’s reaction. She must know how much Lawrence’s dream means to them, and Ellie doesn’t know why she’d discourage them so much knowing how close it is to their heart. 

Unless…

Unless Lawrence hasn’t told Veronica as much as they’ve told Ellie. Unless Ellie has been privy to a part of Lawrence Veronica knows nothing about.

Something turns and flips inside her, churns her stomach like butter. She knows it’s wrong to take joy in that fact, but her happiness is involuntary. She and Lawrence are sharing a secret, and Ellie would trade that fact for all the gowns, jewels and riches that being a Princess would ever bring.

Being reminded of Tia is like being tugged down to earth with a bump, a stone sinking to the bottom of a pond. 

Just then, Lawrence’s buzzer goes off again, the sound crashing into Ellie’s thoughts and causing her to flinch as if she’s been caught out. 

Lawrence gives a catastrophic roll of their eyes. “That bloody postie gets earlier every day.”

“D’you want me to let them in?” Veronica offers, rising from her seat. 

“Aw, don’t worry, babes. Someone else’ll buzz them.”

“It’s no trouble!” Veronica insists, before committing to the offer and making her way to the front door. 

Ellie watches as she leaves, then meets Lawrence’s eyes. For a moment, they share a gaze with no words attached. 

It says so much, but in a language Ellie can’t quite decipher.

“Veronica’s lovely. You’re lucky to have someone who compliments your talents like that,” Ellie says, looking down at her bowl to break Lawrence’s gaze. 

Lawrence is silent in response. Maybe they’re nodding. 

When Ellie hears the sound of Veronica opening the door, it takes a second for her to register what’s happening. It’s only when a voice drifts down the hallway- deep, but full of warmth and charm- that Ellie feels as if a piano’s landed on her, shock and adrenaline washing over her entire body. 

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for my bride. Her name’s Ellie Diamond? I’m Princess Tia of Andalasia.”

For just a second, her whole world freezes. Then reality sinks in.

“Oh, holy fuck, she’s here,” Ellie exclaims, launching herself up from her chair and sweeping her hands down her lap to smooth out her skirt. She’d fast been running out of clothes so had to repurpose her purple gingham dress for a second day in Glasgow, and her hair has just been thrown up in a haphazard bun. 

She turns to Lawrence in a panic, scarcely able to believe that she’s actually been found. “How do I look?”

Lawrence’s wide eyes soften, and they gesture to her as if they barely need to answer. There’s a pause before they speak, in which it seems as if they’re trying to find the right words. 

Eventually, they settle on, “You look beautiful.”

It’s exactly what she needs to hear, and yet it doesn’t help at all.

When she turns around, she’s just in time to see her appear in the living room. Princess Tia: her long, glistening black hair tied back in a high ponytail, a black dress with lace details hugging her skinny frame, and her eyes, big and twinkly the moment her gaze falls on Ellie. 

Her eyes, it turns out, are brown.

Her face beams into a dazzling smile, and she throws her arms out wide as she cries out in joy. “Ellie!”

Ellie smiles back as she runs the short distance across to where Tia’s standing and falls into her arms, Tia squeezing her middle, lifting her up and spinning her around in a circle. 

“I can’t believe you’re here…that you found me!” Ellie gasps breathlessly as she breaks away, unable to do much but stare at her in disbelief. 

“Well, I had to! I couldn’t just forget about you and move on. I mean, who could?” Tia says, her gaze affectionate as she brings a hand up to cup Ellie’s jaw and strokes her thumb over her cheek. 

Tia is here, and she’s holding Ellie, and she’s live in front of her. Her skin is warm under Ellie’s fingers and she can see the rise and fall of her chest and it strikes Ellie that she’s just another human. 

Suddenly, here in Glasgow, Tia being a Princess doesn’t seem to matter all that much. 

Before Ellie can do anything with the realisation that’s just hit her like a car, Tia lets go of her and twirls around, her voice filling the room as she sings. 

“ I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss,

And a miss I have begun to miss,

Pure and sweet, 

Waiting to complete my love song!”

Ellie is unable to do much more than stand and smile awkwardly at her as she continues. She’s aware of Veronica watching in the doorway with intrigue, and Lawrence coming to perch against the headboard of the sofa, cup of tea in hand. 

“Jesus. She sings too?”

Tia seems to take no notice of Lawrence’s quip and continues, unabashed and unashamed. “ Yes, somewhere there’s a maid I’ve never met,

Who was made…”

She trails off into silence, and Ellie frowns. Tia mirrors her expression, and Ellie’s not quite sure what to do next. 

“ Who was made…” Tia sings again, holding an expectant hand out to Ellie. She stays silent, unable to figure out what’s happening. When she doesn’t speak, Tia pulls a face, continuing quietly under her breath and pointing at Ellie. “ To finish your duet…?”

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

Tia’s face is concerned, confused. “You’re not singing.”

It’s only then that Ellie remembers the first time they met and the song they’d sung together. She can’t remember the last time she’d thought about that moment. Guiltily, she supposes she’d be hard pushed to remember the lyrics, never mind the tune.

“No,” she frowns, clasping her hands in front of her awkwardly. “I guess I’m not.”

Tia’s face falls, and she looks as if she’s about to say something before a sound pierces through the room; Veronica, grinning at Tia and clapping appreciatively. 

“You have a lovely voice,” she says to her, and Tia gives a little curtsey of thanks. 

Ellie ignores the gnawing feeling in her heart, tries to recalibrate her brain. This is good . This is what she wanted. Tia is here and she’s rescued her and now they can go home and be married. There’s no reason for her to stay in Glasgow any more. 

Without being able to help it, she turns her head to look at Lawrence. To her surprise, she finds that their eyes are already on her, a wistful sort of look on their face. Ellie doesn’t want Lawrence to be sad. She doesn’t know why Lawrence is sad. They’ve got Veronica, and they’re going to get engaged, and they love each other. 

So Ellie smiles softly at them, crosses the room to take their hand and bring them over to where Tia’s standing. “Tia, this is my friend Lawrence. They’ve been looking after me ever since I got here.”

Tia takes their hand and shakes it warmly, but Lawrence is still a little guarded. “Awrite?”

“I’m very well, thank you! Thank you for looking after my Ellie,” Tia gazes kindly at them, which in turn makes Lawrence’s cold facade crack. They smile ruefully, shrugging a little as they look at the floor. 

“All in a day’s work, hen.”

“And who is this?” Tia asks, turning to Veronica and taking her hand. Veronica’s eyes fly wide open, but she doesn’t pull away. Ellie hopes Tia hasn’t offended her. 

“That’s Veronica! She’s Lawrence’s true love,” Ellie says, though the words don’t seem quite right in her mouth. If Ellie’s perturbed, though, Tia doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Just like you’re mine,” she sighs happily, turning back to Ellie and taking both her hands in hers. “I just can’t believe you’re here . I knocked every door in the street until I could find you!”

“In the Gorbals? You’re brave,” Lawrence mutters before taking a big gulp out of their tea. Tia turns around quickly, fixes them with a bright smile. 

“Thank you! Honestly, I did have to be brave. Especially when I had to sleep in the hallway of that other building.”

Veronica lets out a gasp. “You slept in a hallway?”

Lawrence, however, simply raises their eyebrows in response. “There’s some parts of Glasgow where they don’t bat an eye if there’s someone passed out in a close, babes.”

“Lawrence!” Veronica admonishes them with a hiss, Ellie having to hide the fact she’s stifling her own laughter at their comment. Veronica turns back to Tia, a puzzled frown on her face. “But why didn’t you…I don’t know, book a hotel to stay in overnight?”

Tia simply shrugs. “Well, I was so close to finding Ellie. I didn’t want to risk her leaving and losing her again.”

Her words lodge something difficult in Ellie’s heart, as if it’s a suitcase that Tia’s forcing shut. Before she can reply, Veronica is already gasping in response, her hand on her heart. “Gosh, that’s so romantic.”

As Tia smiles at her in gratitude, Ellie wishes she felt that way too. 

“Well,” Tia gives a little happy sigh as she takes Ellie’s hand. “Ready to go?”

Ellie’s stomach twists. She’s not ready by any stretch of the imagination, but she can’t quite see how she could stay. Unless…

“Eh, before we go, can we do something first?” 

Tia hesitates. She seems confused as to why Ellie’s not scrambling to leave at the first opportunity. Ellie doesn’t blame her. She doesn’t wait for an answer before she speaks again. 

“Can we go on a date?”

Tia’s face grows even more bemused. “You want to go get some dates?”

Before Ellie can explain, Veronica cuts in. “You two haven’t been on a date? I thought you were in love with each other?”

“It’s a whole thing,” Lawrence explains to her. 

“It’s not a date like the food,” Ellie says patiently. “It’s something you do with someone you like. You talk about life, and what you like and dislike, and your interests. And you could go to a museum, or a cafe, or to a restaurant…”

A realisation washes over Ellie that paints a blush on her face. She’s unable to help herself from looking at Lawrence, wondering if they’ve figured out what she’s just learned. 

A date is basically what they did last night. 

Lawrence doesn’t seem to realise they’re being stared at until all eyes in the room are on them. They seem to awake from a daydream, surprised and caught out, and their speech is rushed as they speak. “Aye, yeah, a date. I was telling Ellie all about them. I mean, you canny really get married without going on one. Me and Vee go on them all the time.”

“Used to,” Veronica mutters. Ellie’s not sure she was meant to hear her.

Tia shrugs, smiles at Ellie like it’s easy. “Well, I am starving, now you mention it. And while we’re here we might as well take in the sights!”

Ellie feels something in her chest release. This is good. She doesn’t have to leave just yet. 

“Lawrence, we should get going,” Veronica says quietly, pointing to the watch on her wrist. Lawrence checks their phone and mutters an oh, shit . 

“Fuck, sorry. Work,” they grimace at Ellie, who can do nothing else but nod understandingly. Tia takes her hand, squeezing it decisively.

“Well, why don’t we let these two lovely people get to work and we can go on our date?” 

It’s strange, Ellie thinks, to feel an overwhelming sadness leaving a flat that she has little to no connection to. That’s a lie, though. Even though she’s only been staying there for less than a week, and is, admittedly, sick of sleeping on the sofa, there’s been memories she’s made there that she never wants to forget. Arriving with Lawrence that first night in Glasgow. Learning all about the city and cooking dinner for them and eating pie and getting to know each other. Breakfasts and cups of tea and the sleepy way that Lawrence shuffles into the living room in the mornings, no makeup with their hair in a purple topknot. Lawrence’s sewing room that’s essentially a glimpse into their heart, and the moment they’d both shared there.

On reflection, perhaps it would be easier if she could forget. 

Veronica makes her way to the car with a shout of a goodbye to Ellie and a shy wave to Tia, and Tia has the good grace to make her way along the pavement a little to wait for Ellie. She’s glad that she and Lawrence can have a proper goodbye, even if it’s the last word she wants to say in the world. 

Turning around from their close door, Lawrence reaches into their coat pocket with a reserved little smile on their face. 

“Here,” they say softly, before handing her a little silver ring with two keys attached to it. “Y’know, in case you need to come back here for any reason, or you need somewhere to go that’s safe. In case your Princess turns out to be a total nutcase, or whatever.” 

“What if I’m a total nutcase?” Ellie can’t help but smile back at them, the joke hiding the way her heart’s gone off like a sparkler. 

“Well, we established that was the case pretty early on, so I’m not worried about that,” Lawrence fires back with their own little grin, and Ellie can’t help but let out a small laugh. Their confident expression falters, however, when they put the keys in Ellie’s hand, letting their own hands linger around hers for just a second too long. “Plus, it’s fine. I trust you.”

Ellie’s mouth drops open slightly. Lawrence trusts her. Ellie pushes down this new information. She can’t afford for it to mean anything. She’s going on a date with Tia. She should be excited. 

“You don’t seem as if you like Tia very much,” Ellie can’t help but say, awkwardly scuffing a shoe over the gravel outside as she takes a step back, letting her hands drop from Lawrence’s even though she doesn’t really want to. 

Lawrence pulls a face. They look embarrassed, as if Ellie’s uncovered a secret they wanted to keep hidden. “Ach, listen, it’s no that. She’s a nice enough girl, I’m sure I’d get on well with her given the chance. I’m just…I just want her to treat you nicely, right? I haven’t put up with you banging on about her for four days only for her to break your heart.”

“She won’t,” Ellie shakes her head, trying to stop the way their words are making her feel all glowy inside like her body’s made of fireflies. 

“I know,” Lawrence smiles tightly. “I just want the best for you. I know I’ve been a pure dick at times, but honestly. I do care about you, Ellie.”

Ellie feels as if her heart is breaking and bursting all at once. Part of her wants to be angry at them. Part of her wants to hiss at them, shut up, stop saying all these nice things, stop making me feel like this about you. It’s not fair. It isn’t fair. 

But she doesn’t say anything at all, and she instead throws her arms out and wraps Lawrence in a hug. The way their head fits under her chin just right is a cruel detail that makes her want to stay even more than she already does. Once is not enough; she wants to hug Lawrence again and again, differently each time, to see the variety of ways they can fit together but still be linked like a little chain.

When they squeeze her middle, tears sting Ellie’s eyes like acid. 

It’s Lawrence who pulls away first. It was always going to be; Ellie wouldn’t have broken that hug if her life depended on it. They swipe at their eyes and rub their nose as they sniff a little, and Ellie watches their throat as they swallow thickly, giving a little cough before they speak. 

“I should go,” they say guiltily, their eyes falling on something just over Ellie’s shoulder. “Veronica’s giving me a lift, so…”

“Yeah. Can’t keep her waiting,” Ellie agrees, pressing her lips together as she blinks away her tears. She feels one escape, dangling from her lashes before leaping onto her cheek. If Lawrence notices it before Ellie rubs it away, they don’t say anything.  

“Well, bye then,” Lawrence says, looking up at her with a smile that doesn’t meet their eyes. “Princess Ellie. You’re actually gonny be a real Princess now.”

Ellie can’t tear her gaze away from them as she voices something she’s just realised. “I was always a Princess to you.”

Lawrence gives a laugh with no humour, looks down the street at Tia still there waiting patiently. Tia is good. Tia is nice. 

Tia is not Lawrence. 

“Thanks so much for everything,” Ellie says, in a voice that’s not much more than a whisper. “I’ll never forget you. I promise.”

“I’m not likely to forget you in a hurry either,” Lawrence replies, sincere even though their little smile is still on their lips. As their gaze falls over Ellie’s shoulder again, though, their face falls. “Enjoy your date, babes. Good luck with everything.”

“You too,” Ellie replies. 

Before she can add anything more, they’re making their way to Veronica’s car without so much as a look over their shoulder. 

It shouldn’t hurt Ellie as much as it does. 

There is no alternative after that but to make her way over to Tia, to smile and take her arm and walk with her. She asks Tia to tell her the story of how she ended up here- because if she’s listening to Tia then she won’t have to talk. Talking seems to be beyond her right now. Besides, focusing on Tia is a good distraction from the endless thoughts swirling around her mind like a whirlpool that’s sucking her in. 

Once Tia is done with the story that Ellie had only half-listened to, she asks about Ellie’s time in Glasgow. This heartens her, because this means she gets to talk about Lawrence. She tells Tia about their flat and where they work, and how they took her to the Lighthouse and how Greg made them sausage rolls and how they walked through the park. 

“That lighthouse place sounds very romantic,” Tia sighs happily, lacing her hand in Ellie’s. “We should go there for our date!”

“Oh, uh…” Ellie stalls, her eyes trained on the endless gridlock of the paving stones as she speaks. “I think it’s closed today.”

She doesn’t know why she lied to Tia. Well, no, she does. It’s because she wants that to be her and Lawrence’s special place, like a treasure they’ve hidden somewhere in the city.  

Christ, she needs to stop thinking about Lawrence.

Because it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she married Tia. She does genuinely get along with her, and she does enjoy the little conversations they have as they wander around the streets of the city. Okay, they don’t exactly have a lot in common (Tia reads four books a month, apparently, and can’t sew a dress to save herself), but Ellie isn’t uncomfortable when she’s with her, nor does she have to scramble to find things to talk about. They find a cafe to eat lunch in and Tia puts the menu on her head like a hat and makes Ellie laugh. They wonder aloud together what in God’s name pulled pork is. 

The problem is that Tia just doesn’t give her any butterflies in her stomach. She doesn’t make Ellie’s heart race so fast she thinks it’ll give out. Instead of looking forward to their life together, Ellie feels a knot in her gut if she even so much as thinks about going back to Andalasia. Tia is gorgeous and beautiful with a happy smile like sunshine, and Ellie should be attracted to her. 

But she just…isn’t.

And the worst part about it all is that Tia is head over heels in love with her. She came all the way to Glasgow to see her, to rescue her, to be with her. Ellie can’t exactly throw all that bravery and valiance back in her face. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Ellie asks, sipping from the lemonade she’s ordered as if she’s calm when really her nerves are eating her up from the inside out like some sort of bacteria, rendering her unable to even touch the food she’s ordered. 

Tia nods politely, and so she continues. “How did you know I was your true love?”

Tia smiles enthusiastically, but then seems to hit a stumbling block. Her face freezes in its grin as if she’s thinking, before she shrugs and speaks. “Well, I mean…it was love at first sight! You literally fell into my lap! That’s fate. It wasn’t really anything you did. It was more just a feeling I got. Y’know?”

Ellie twirls her straw between her fingers, nods without any feeling. She’s sure Tia’s words would seem romantic to some, but to Ellie it just seems as if any other girl could’ve fallen from that tree and been caught by her.

“What about you?” Tia asks back politely, halfway through a mouthful of her own meal. 

The question churns Ellie’s stomach. She doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t know. She’s not even sure if she is in love with Princess Tia any more, despite how violently and how vigorously she wills herself to feel that way towards her. 

So she just smiles falsely and shrugs. “Same as you, I guess.”

Tia smiles back, and moves on to telling Ellie some story about a giant who put his foot through the local bakery and left massive floury footprints on the ground on his way out of the village. It reminds Ellie of a story Lawrence told her last night where they’d got purple hair dye on their bathroom floor and stood in it, turning their foot and most of the tiles purple by proxy. Ellie wants to tell it to Tia, but she couldn’t do it justice the way Lawrence could. She couldn’t tell it in the same laugh-out-loud, belly-ache way they had been able to. 

Besides, she has to fight this urge she has to bring up Lawrence every two minutes. She’s with Tia now. 

They talk politely with each other, the formality something that had never been there with Lawrence, and when they step foot outside the cafe after Tia had simply left her gold coins on the tray the bill came on, a sense of foreboding fills Ellie’s heart. 

As if Tia reads her mind, she turns to Ellie with a happy sigh. 

“Well, thank you very much for the lovely date. I had fun!” she enthuses, before tilting her head with curiosity. “Do you think…we could go home now?”

Ellie isn’t ready to leave, not a bit. There’s still so many streets she hasn’t explored, still so many things she hasn’t learned about (why do some of the cars have two levels?), and still so many things she hasn’t been able to say to Lawrence. 

Not that she ever will be able to say them, of course. But just to see them again, to hold them in her arms even if it’s just to say goodbye. 

It’s then that she remembers, and the idea spreads a warmth over Ellie’s skin even in the cold of the city streets. “Well, actually! I want to go somewhere else first.”

Tia blinks at her blankly. “How long do these dates usually last?”

“There’s this ball,” Ellie continues regardless. “Lawrence’s friend is putting it on, and it’s happening tonight. It’s going to be in this big glass building with all these twinkly lights, and it looks so beautiful. What do you think?”

Tia still seems a little hesitant- fidgety and impatient, like she wants to hurry back to Andalasia- but the small smile that appears on her face clicks a little pilot light of hope in Ellie’s heart. “I think, dear, that you’ll be the most beautiful person in attendance.”

Even though her words sink like a stone in her gut, Ellie’s heart ignites and the puzzle pieces of a plan all start to come together in her head. She arranges with Tia that they should split off- Tia taking some time to explore Glasgow while Ellie gets herself ready- and then meet at the venue at eight o’clock tonight. 

“If I get lost, I can always ask the pigeons,” Tia shrugs easily. “They’re very good with directions.”

Ellie snorts a laugh, feels something stab like a dagger inside herself. It’s really a shame she doesn’t feel the way she’s meant to feel about Tia. She’s funny, and clever, and patient and kind. 

She’s just not who Ellie wants.

Saying goodbye to Tia with an awkward sort of hug, Ellie begins to carry out her plan. She’s not sure how she remembers the way, with all the streets built the same way like some sort of confusing rat trap, but she does , and she’s soon making her way inside the same tall, high glass building she’d visited with Lawrence only a few days previously. She sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all the suits milling around the lobby with her purple checks and her messy hair, but Ellie doesn’t care all that much. She’s hoping the visit will be worth it, anyway. 

The lifts are in the same place as last time, but she struggles when she gets in and is faced with the challenge of what button to press. Luckily there’s a small sort of menu on one side of the panels, and Ellie recognises the names Boulash and Mandella, so she presses the corresponding button and sees the doors slide across, trapping her in. 

Being in a windowless, airless box hurtling up storey after storey seems a lot more scary now that she doesn’t have Lawrence by her side. 

Thankfully, the lift spits her out before she can grow any more anxious, and she’s faced with the same corridors she’d got so lost along last time she’d been here. What she hadn’t noticed before, though, is that on the walls there are little plaques with small arrows, showing the directions to follow. The relief that grips her when she sees the glass doors and Cherry’s reception desk is insurmountable. 

Ellie shyly pushes open the doors before walking quietly over to where Cherry is sitting. The receptionist has her head buried in her laptop, fingers flying over the keypad furiously as she concentrates, a little frown on her face. She doesn’t notice Ellie until she clears her throat, at which point her head snaps up to her direction, a huge smile bursting across her face. 

“Ellie!” she gasps, shooting up from her desk chair in surprise. “Oh my God, hi! Nice to see you again!”

“So nice to see you too,” Ellie smiles back, happy to see her friendly face and hear her accent all over again. 

“So funny that you’re here actually, because the weirdest thing happened this morning,” Cherry continues, her eyes dancing as she chatters excitedly. “So Tayce and A’who- sorry, Ms. Szura-Radix and Ms. Boyle came in. Tayce didn’t actually have an appointment today, but the pair of them were all arm-in-arm and smiley and happy. Said they were going to give things another shot, and that it was all down to that chance meeting with the blonde girl in the tartan dress. That if a stranger they’d not even known for two minutes could see how in love they still were then maybe it was stupid to be throwing away everything they had. That they thought them meeting you was fate. How funny is that?”

Ellie immediately remembers who Cherry’s talking about. The girl with the cat in the carrier and the other one with the blonde hair. How both of them had so much sadness in their eyes. She wishes she could feel some sort of happiness at the fact she’d managed to join them both back together, but that feeling just seems very far away from her right now.

“Anyway, Lawrence is gonna be over the moon that you’re here,” Cherry smirks, punching some buttons into her work phone with a red talon. “They’ve been walking round all morning with a face like they’ve got a date with the tracks at Central Station after work. I’ll just let them know-”

“No, Cherry!” Ellie exclaims, too fast and too loud. Cherry’s finger hovers over a button, her expression full of questions as she looks inquiringly at Ellie. She wonders how she can explain this is a way that doesn’t look weird. “I was meant to be going back home today, but I wanted to surprise Lawrence one last time. So…don’t tell them I’m here, okay?”

“You were meant to be leaving today?” Cherry repeats, the smirk on her face becoming completely shit-eating as she puts the phone back in its receiver. “Christ, that explains it. No wonder Loz has been in such a mood.”

Ellie’s cheeks flush hot, and she shakes her head. “I’m sure they’ve not been affected that badly.”

“Bollocks,” Cherry scoffs, then looks up and down the corridors and fixes Ellie with a raised eyebrow. “Look girl, all I’m going to say is that I heard them talk about you that day after you met. Then I saw them with you. Then I watched them run after you . Lawrence Chaney doesn’t run . I’m telling you, I’ve not seen them like this over anyone before. Not even Veronica.”

If there’s anything that isn’t going to be helpful for Ellie to hear right now, it’s probably that. 

“That’s a lie. Lawrence loves Veronica, they don’t like me like that-”

Cherry makes a noise much like a big, spluttery drain as she rolls her eyes. “It’s Specsavers you’re needing, love, not a bloody divorce lawyer. Speaking of, why are you here if it’s not to see Lawrence? You said you wanted to surprise them, right?”

“Well, actually,” Ellie clasps her hands together, nervous for Cherry’s reaction. “I came to see you.”

“Oh!” she replies, taken aback but not exactly unpleasantly so. 

“For two reasons, really,” she continues, hoping Cherry will be able to help. “The first is…are there any tickets left for your ball?”

Cherry instantly brightens even more than she already was, and her spine straightens as she shuffles some papers around on her desk before producing a little red envelope. “Oh, Ellie, you’ve just made my day. Fifty quid for the best night of your life, can’t really argue with that!”

Ellie’s voice catches in her throat, frozen for a second as the hole in her plan hits her like a brick. She doesn’t know how she was expecting to buy a ticket with no money, and from the awkward grimace on Cherry’s face, neither does she. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, babe,” Cherry coughs a little, reaching up to Ellie with the envelope anyway. “Totally forgot about your situation. Well, here! Take it as a gift. A thank you for making my friend so happy.”

Her words melt Ellie’s heart; the idea that just existing, just being the person she is is enough to make Lawrence happy. Shaking her head, she squeezes her eyes shut and refocuses. 

“Uh, that’s really kind of you, but I actually need two.”

“Two?” Cherry raises an eyebrow. 

“One for me and one for Princess Tia. She’s…well, I was meant to be getting married to her before I came here, and she showed up for me this morning.”

“Oh,” Cherry says, her eyes widening as she blinks once, twice. “Yeah, incredibly obvious now why Lawrence has been acting like a human fucking thundercloud.”

“Don’t, Cherry,” Ellie sighs, guilt and sadness overcoming her. “Trust me, I don’t want to leave either. But…I’ve got Tia, and Lawrence has Veronica. If I go to the ball, though, then at least I can just see them one last time.”

Cherry’s gaze softens, and her nails scamper across the papers on her desk before they come to rest on a little white rectangle of card. She stuffs it into the envelope before handing it back to Ellie. “You’re very lucky I’m a sucker for a love story, Mrs. That’s a hundred quid down the swanee.”

“Thank you so much,” Ellie sighs happily, clutching the envelope tightly as if to let go of it would mean the end.

“What was the second reason?” Cherry asks, intrigued. 

Ellie bites her lip, hoping Cherry’s charitable nature will extend to this. “Uh, I’ll need some help getting ready for tonight. I’ve got a dress, but I need to borrow other stuff. Are you any good at makeovers?”

The way Cherry’s face lights up and the conviction behind her self-assured smile gives Ellie all the confidence she needs.

Chapter Text

It’s been a frantic few hours to say the least, and Ellie’s head spins as she reflects on them.

When Cherry had agreed to help Ellie get ready, she’d offered to pick her up once she’d finished work and drive her out to her flat. This was good, as it had given Ellie time to return to Lawrence’s flat, to get and alter what she needed and send a few prayers up that they wouldn’t mind her doing this. Ellie doesn’t think they will, though. She’s sure it will be a nice surprise for them, and even better that Cherry has made her look presentable. 

More than presentable, really. Ellie had told Cherry that she was convinced she had some sort of magic powers, as she’d produced a mirror and held it in front of her to see the job she’d done on her makeup. Ellie’s lashes were long and voluminous, her cheeks rosy and glimmering and her skin radiant, with a soft spectrum of blue dancing over her eyelids. Ellie had hardly been able to believe it was herself looking back at her. 

“It’s not magic,” Cherry had laughed, the smile laced through her voice as she’d moved on to curling Ellie’s hair. “I just trained to be a makeup artist when I left school. I used to think it was what I wanted to do full time, but then I realised having a whole business based around it is a lot less fun than just giving myself and my friends makeovers.”

As they had chatted, it turned out that Cherry had done so much with her life already. She told Ellie of how she’d also trained to be a nurse, specialising in mental health, before she’d realised the toll it would take on her own. She’d revealed that she still volunteers on a mental health helpline, though, so she can play a part to help others in at least some way. 

“What can I say,” she’d snorted. “I must just love answering phones!”

She’d also told Ellie of her various adventures travelling around the world; before she’d begun a nine to five and once she’d left uni, she’d gone backpacking to every country and continent Ellie could imagine. Cherry had stopped every so often to show Ellie photos of her at various world landmarks on her phone, and Ellie had been unable to do much but listen, in awe of the life she’d already lived. 

“Cherry, it’s a shame I have to leave today,” Ellie had contemplated quietly, once the conversation had hit a comfortable lull. “You’re such a sunshine person, it would’ve been really lovely to have you as a friend.”

Cherry had stopped abruptly, broken away from Ellie’s hair and held the curler at a safe distance before hugging her tight with one arm. With that, she’d murmured against her freshly-curled hair, “I hope it’s not your last night, babe. You’re an absolute star. I hope you know how many peoples’ lives you’ve brightened up even in the short time you’ve been here.”

Cherry doesn’t even have to say their name to let Ellie know she’s talking about Lawrence, and her stomach flutters as if it’s full of butterflies. 

After that, Cherry had transformed herself too, Ellie being unable to believe her makeup could become even more extravagant and beautiful, and paired with a red dress and a pair of matching heels she looked just like some sort of femme fatale. Ellie knew she wasn’t, though. She’s Cherry: friendly, kind and generous, and Ellie would miss her nearly as much as she’d miss Lawrence. 

Though never quite as much. 

Cherry had had to go to the venue early to make sure everything had been set up just right, so Ellie had gone with her, the two of them taking an Uber along the busy, bustling streets of Glasgow. If Ellie had thought town had been busy on Tuesday night, then it’s nothing compared to what Friday offers. The bars had already been spilling out with people, empty glasses propped up on the pavement as if it was a bar in itself. Ellie had watched through the window as rowdy men roared their laughs and slapped each other on the back, and girls in short dresses and fake tan screeched and stumbled in their heels as they carried ridiculously huge helium balloons. 

None of it had filled Ellie with the same fear she’d felt that first night.

When the car pulled up outside a grand-looking building made of red sandstone, Ellie had felt the excitement fizz in her veins. She’d allowed herself to feel the joy and the anticipation at the fact she’s attending an actual ball, something that’s usually only reserved for royals and nobility back in Andalasia. 

The thoughts of Andalasia, and indeed a certain Princess, had only served to stop the excitement Ellie had been feeling dead in its tracks, a vacuum of sadness sucking it out of her.

When they’d gone inside the building, though, and Ellie had laid eyes upon the venue, her heart had started to lift all over again. Little tealights had been dotted around the edge of the grey stone floor, giving it a glossy shine as if it had been dipped in rainwater. Every inch of the floor-to-ceiling glass had been bejewelled with string lights, and this, combined with the darkness outside, made it seem like the ball was taking place in the middle of the night sky within the stars. In amongst it all, the lush greenery of the plants and tall trees inside were like decorations that Cherry hadn’t even had to put up. 

“You organised all this?” Ellie had let out a sort of gasp, Cherry only laughing in response. 

“It’s not much,” she’d downplayed, but the shy blush on her face had been the giveaway that she’d been genuinely grateful for Ellie’s awe. 

“Cherry, it’s gorgeous.”

Ellie had self-indulgently forgotten about Tia for a moment, closing her eyes happily and imagining gliding across the ballroom floor with Lawrence in her arms, the two of them looking like a proper scene from a fairytale. If she could end tonight even just having danced with them once, then she’d be able to leave happily. At least, that was what she’d told herself. 

After that, Cherry had excused herself to tie up some last-minute loose ends and Ellie had taken it upon herself to explore the plants of the botanics. She’d gazed at each one with awe and wonder, laughing at the names on the little placards because she’d never be able to even read them, let alone pronounce them. Trees like these didn’t exist in Andalasia, all gnarled up and twisted and beautifully ugly. Ellie had thought, with a little stifled laugh, that the trees and plants suited Glasgow. Perfectly imperfect, rough and beautiful. 

It was then she’d realised she’d fallen in love with the city just as she’d fallen in love with…

Well. That didn’t matter anymore. 

Thoughts tainting her experience, she’d headed back to the ballroom floor, getting a plain lemonade from the makeshift bar as she stood in wait for either Tia or Lawrence- whoever would arrive first. And now she’s still here, having long since drained her glass, watching as people arrive and mingle and chat to each other. 

Without Ellie seeing her approach Cherry is suddenly at her side, smiling and batting her lashes at her. 

“Any sign?”

“No. And stop looking at me like that!” Ellie chastises her, nerves bubbling in her heart like it’s some sort of cauldron. 

Cherry bursts out laughing, looks at her a little funny. “Like what?”

“Like I’m…” Ellie begins, then feels herself blush. “Like I’ve got a stupid crush or something.”

“I never said a word,” Cherry shrugs, a twinkle still present in her eye that infuriates Ellie even more. 

Trying to distract herself, Ellie casts her eyes over her surroundings until her eyes lock onto the top of the stairs at the entrance, every muscle in her body suddenly standing still. 

“Shit. That’s her.”

Cherry’s head spins so fast Ellie momentarily wonders if she’s snapped it, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it as she looks up at Tia. She’s shocked to find her in a different dress than the one she’d arrived in; an incredibly beautiful one, baby pink with a tight bodice and a delicate patterned lace skirt, and a train at the back that Ellie has no idea how she’ll dance in. Her hair looks the same as it had before, but her face looks glowing and refreshed as if Cherry had done her makeup in secret. Her eyes scan the room serenely, then light up as they fall on Ellie and a beaming smile takes hold on her face.

She looks breathtaking.

“Jesus Christ. Is that your princess?” Cherry’s mouth drops open, watching as Tia descends the stairs. 

Ellie just nods. “Yes.”

“Well, if you don’t want her, then I’ll gladly have her,” Cherry jokes, digging Ellie in the ribs. Ellie feels herself frown.

“I do want her.”

She feels nothing. 

As Tia approaches, Ellie can feel her heart through the fabric of her dress. It’s not light and fluttery, the butterflies she gets with Lawrence. It’s a sickly feeling; the knowledge that once this ball is over they’ll be leaving together, and Ellie will never get an adventure like this ever again. She can’t let Tia know anything is wrong, though. She can’t disappoint her when she’s gone to the lengths she has to find her. So she sticks a smile on her face that jags her cheeks, her face uncomfortable as she holds out her arms for a hug that Tia wastes no time falling into. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Tia jokes, and Ellie hears her own laugh come out fake and forced. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. As do you!” she returns the compliment politely. Curiosity gets the better of her, and she tilts her head. “How did you manage to make a dress in time?”

“Oh, I didn’t. I went and got it from one of the seamstresses’ in town. I got into a bit of an argument with them, actually. Nobody here seems to think my money is real, it’s strange,” Tia frowns, before perking up and taking Ellie’s hands. “But it’s alright, I’m here now. We’re both here. Shall we dance?”

Ellie wants to wait. Ellie wants to see Lawrence at the top of those stairs, wants to indulge in the feeling of meeting their eyes and seeing them react to the fact she’s here after all. So instead she turns to Cherry, gesturing to her with a much easier smile. 

“Sorry, that’s so rude of me- Princess Tia, this is Cherry. She’s one of Lawrence’s friends. Well, she’s my friend now too.”

“You can call me Princess as well, if you want,” Cherry purrs, holding out a hand for Tia to shake.

Ellie narrows her eyes at her. “Behave.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. And thank you for looking after my Princess-to-be,” Tia smiles, shaking Cherry’s hand warmly and seemingly oblivious to her instant attraction. 

“Aw, don’t be silly! She made it easy. She’s a total sweetheart. You’re a lucky girl. Mind you, so’s she,” Cherry smiles back, charm bursting out of her like confetti. 

Tia flushes, unsure how to react to the compliment. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

Ellie can see the conversation reaching its natural conclusion so she positions herself out of Tia’s eyeshot, gestures frantically at Cherry to keep it going. 

“So!” Cherry cuts in, her eyes darting Ellie’s way and immediately getting the message. “What’s it like being a princess? Like, what do you actually do?”

It’s a good thing that Cherry could effectively hold a conversation with a brick wall, and as she begins asking Tia anything and everything about her royal duties and life in Andalasia, Ellie fidgets beside them both. She looks up at the stars, at the huge clock on the wall, catches her reflection in the glass to check she still looks okay. Her hair is still piled on top of her head in the intricate curled bun that Cherry has styled and pinned into place for her, her makeup still pristine with the cornflower shade popping on her eyelids. Most importantly though, her dress still looks as perfect as when she’d seen it on its hanger: a strapless, light blue silk ballgown with blue gems as little details.

The dress that Lawrence made. The dress they said she’d look stunning in. 

The more minutes pass, the more Ellie regrets it all. Lawrence gave her that key in case she was in trouble, in case she needed somewhere safe. Not to break in and steal something they’d worked hard on that they might not even want Ellie wearing out in public. Lawrence had said they trusted her and Ellie’s essentially broken that trust, using their flat keys for a ridiculous idea. Her anxiety bubbles up in her throat as she shifts in her shoes, and for a second she hopes Lawrence never shows up. 

The moment they appear, though, Ellie can’t believe she’d ever let that thought into her head. 

It’s Veronica she sees first, but her eyes ghost over her small frame in a long, green dress with ruffles at the bottom and instead focus on the only reason she’s here. Their eyes scan the ballroom carefully and deliberately, sparkling and framed by their usual perfect mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow, dark like an immaculate onyx. They’ve painted their lips a deep purple too, and the colour pops against their pale skin like some sort of fine wine. Ellie wonders how long it would’ve taken them to arrange their hair into the elaborate up-do they’re wearing, with what looks like an extravagant clasp or brooch pinning it at the front and two little curls framing the side of their face. Their hair is glossy and catches the light, a rainbow composed entirely of purples that Ellie guesses is freshly dyed. Jewels drip from their ears and around their neck, the kind of pieces that would befit a member of the royal family. 

All of this, however, is nothing compared to their dress. Ellie knows from the moment she lays eyes on it that it’s a Lawrence Chaney original, and the knowledge makes her smile that bit more. It’s made from a material that Ellie can’t quite put her finger on and in a shade she can’t quite describe; it’s the most brilliant metaphor for Lawrence themself. If she were to try to explain it, she wouldn’t do it justice: it’s shiny but not cheap, silky but not light, a mixture of lilac and periwinkle and heather with the faintest touch of blue through it that Ellie supposes she might be imagining. Rhinestones twinkle in constellations over the bodice and the hem of the dress, a detail that matches Ellie’s own dress and a similarity that warms her heart to look at. The straps are deliberately lopsided, one looping over their shoulder and down over their arm with a sort of rose detailing tying it all together, and the other hanging off of them as if it slipped by accident. 

Ellie knows it’s not, though. Ellie knows that no part of this dress is accidental. She knows how much time Lawrence will have devoted to it, imagines them tiring themselves out at the sewing machine until the small hours of the morning, thinks of their nerves as they take it off the hanger and consider it for the ball, wondering if they could pull off wearing their own design. The very thought of their self-doubt is enough to make Ellie run to them, hold them tight and tell them how incredible and beautiful they look, just like they always told her. She doesn’t, though. She stands beside Cherry and Princess Tia and she waits, willing Lawrence to look her way.

When they lay eyes on her, Ellie swears it’s the biggest she’s ever seen them smile.

As Lawrence takes Veronica by the hand and leads her down the stairs, the action doesn’t cut Ellie’s heart with jealousy. She knows who Lawrence is coming to see, can tell how eager they are to make their way to her, and the very notion that they are excited to see her makes every nerve ending in Ellie’s body buzz with adrenaline. 

And when they finally reach her, slightly out of breath with a beaming smile on their face, it takes every cell in Ellie’s body not to throw her arms around them and never let go. 

“I really canny get rid of you, can I?” is the first thing they say to her, their eyes twinkling and their smile disbelieving. It’s an understatement, it’s a joke, it’s making fun of her. 

It’s so Lawrence that Ellie couldn’t have asked for anything better. 

“And here I was about to say how good it was to see you. But I s’pose you can go fuck yourself,” she laughs back, Lawrence giggling opposite her as if they’re a pair of schoolchildren. 

Ellie doesn’t register Veronica, doesn’t register Tia or Cherry. Doesn’t even register the people dancing around them, or the waiters with trays of drinks or food weaving their way in between them all. Even the music seems to fall silent. All that matters is that they’re together for one last time, and Ellie is determined to perceive as few things or people as possible if they aren’t Lawrence.

“Ellie! I thought you were going back home today. It’s nice to see you,” Veronica pulls Ellie out of her reverie, her smile pleasant but something to her tone that indicates her heart’s not quite in it. Ellie smiles at her but before she can speak, Tia gets there first. 

“Oh! Hello there. Veronica, right?”

Veronica’s head snaps round to look at Tia, and her gaze softens, the blush to her cheeks becoming just a touch more prominent. “Gosh, I’m amazed you remember me!”

“You don’t forget a smile like yours so easily,” Tia explains. Out of the corner of Ellie’s eye, she sees Cherry’s face screw up. 

If there’s anything untoward about their interaction though, Ellie doesn’t notice it. She turns to Lawrence just in time to see their eyes lingering on her, a good few seconds going by before they notice Ellie’s gaze and flush red, blinking a few times as if to hide the fact they’ve been caught. 

“Sorry,” they say, their tone a little inhibited but frighteningly sincere. “It’s just…you look so good, Ellie.”

“D’you like my dress?” she asks, stopping just short at sticking her tongue out at them playfully. 

Lawrence tries to suppress their smile and fails catastrophically. “You look stunning in it.”

Their unspoken words soar above the music. Just like I said you would. 

“You scrub up not bad yourself, y’know, Chaney,” Cherry pipes up, leaning forward and enveloping them in a hug. 

“The place looks amazing, you should be so proud of yourself,” Lawrence praises her, their words muffled against her shoulder. Cherry gives them a squeeze of thanks, then pulls away with an apologetic smile on her face. 

“Listen, I’ve got to go man the doors for a bit. But I’ll be back to see you all soon, yeah?”

Ellie waves to Cherry as she leaves amidst a chorus of goodbyes, suddenly feeling as if she’s had an armband taken off in the deep end of a pool. She looks at Lawrence and wants to say something more. From the look on their own face, they feel the same. But it’s Tia who gets there first, looping an arm through her own decisively. 

“Well! It’s been wonderful to see you both again, but I believe I owe my beloved a dance. We’ll see you soon?”

Ellie’s heart drops, but she knows she couldn’t have spent the whole time with Lawrence. She tries to comfort herself. She’ll see them again before she leaves. She’ll maybe even get to dance with them. Even the thought sets her pulse hammering through her veins. 

“Have fun,” Lawrence smiles, more to Ellie than Tia and with something wistful in their expression that makes Ellie hope for too much. 

“We won’t be long,” Ellie replies, wanting to reassure Lawrence as much as possible; I’m only here because you are. 

Veronica reaches out suddenly, places a gentle hand on Tia’s arm and prompting her to turn around. 

“Tia, before you go,” she begins insistently, her voice soon quieting as she seems to grow shy and her gaze meets the floor. “I think you look really beautiful.”

Tia blinks at her in surprise, then squeezes her hand in thanks before turning to approach the dancefloor. 

“Gosh,” she says to Ellie, as soon as the two of them are out of earshot. “That Cherry can’t half talk, can she? She’s got a mouth like the wishing well back home.”

As Ellie bursts out into a laugh she can’t suppress, a small, jagged puzzle piece slots into place in her brain.

Andalasia isn’t home anymore. Neither is Glasgow, not really.

Her home is a person, not a place.

***

Her head feels heavy, her limbs concrete. Her heart ricochets against her ribcage, and her breathing is coming in shallow gusts. Joe has not felt less composed and in control in quite some time.

She looks the part: her golden headscarf and dress with its matching cape, her face painted to perfection. But with every step she’s taken since emerging from the hole in the ground and into the most overstimulating atmosphere she’s ever known, the enormity of what she is about to carry out has weighed increasingly heavy on her, as if she’s a flower between the pages of an encyclopaedia. 

Joe is no stranger to tough decisions, but they’ve never had to be carried out by her directly. This has been simultaneously the toughest and yet also the easiest of all. After all, it’s not as if she has an alternative. To lose her fortune and power would be to lose herself, and she’s quite frankly frightened to go from Queen to just Joe Black, because she barely knows who Joe Black is anymore. 

As she reaches the glass dome that looks as if it’s filled with little sparkling stars, she rolls her shoulders to try and relieve her tension and pulls her shoulders back, remembering to conduct herself with decorum.

What she sees makes her almost lose it all the moment she’s collected it.

Joe takes in the opulence of the venue: the glass walls twinkling with fairy lights, the lush green plants and the rich warmth of the flagstones that provide the dancefloor. It has a certain charm that always appears to be missing from a royal ball, as if the whole event has been crafted with love and excitement and care as opposed to the sterile political facade that comes with balls at the palace. 

It unexpectedly lights up her heart, and the small smile springs onto her face before she knows it. She’s distracted, though, by a low cough from her side, and as she turns around she swears her heart stops, the whole world slowly grinding to a halt around her. 

This is a feeling she’s not felt before, and she’s unsure what it is or what to do with it. 

Because sitting behind a small table is a woman dressed all in red, nestled like a jewel amongst the green of the plants she’s surrounded by. Her long, dark hair tumbles over her shoulders as if it’s a waterfall, cascading over her pale skin. Her smile is more of a smirk than anything else, and paired with the twinkle in her dark eyes it turns Joe to butter. 

“Hi there! Welcome to the first annual Valentine’s Ball. Should’ve probably held it in February, I know, but if you can’t name your own ball after yourself then what the hell can you do, am I right? Can I take your name for the guestlist, love?”

Joe barely hears a word she’s saying, more focused on the way her red lips wrap themselves around her words and the soft lilt of her accent. This woman must be some sort of witch. This must be some sort of spell. There’s no other explanation as to why her heart can be fluttering this fast. 

Too caught up in her own thoughts, Joe doesn’t realise the woman is waiting on an answer. It’s only when she decides to reply that she realises her jaw has been halfway to hanging wide open, and she snaps it shut like a goldfish before speaking. “I’m sorry?”

When she blurts out a sort of choked laugh, Joe feels her heart jump three storeys. “Is my accent really that bad?”

“No, no! It’s…it’s gorgeous,” Joe finds herself stumbling out her words. In response, the woman behind the desk presses her lips together, her smile only growing bigger. She repeats her words patiently. 

“What’s your name?”

Joe remembers that she’s royalty and not just one simple human bowled over by another. She straightens her spine as she speaks again. “Queen Josephine Black the First, Head of the Kingdom and Defender of the Faith.”

“Christ,” the woman splutters. “Must be a nightmare trying to fill out application forms.”

Joe laughs back to indulge her. She has no idea what she means. “If it’s too long, you can just put Joe Black.”

“I’m not writing it down, love, I’m looking for it on the guestlist.”

Joe’s heart sinks. She hadn’t anticipated this to be a gatekept event, and she rapidly tries to come up with a plan in her mind, think of some spell she can attempt to use on the girl in front of her to put her to sleep or to alter her memory so she can just sneak in. But, Joe thinks, as she watches the girl tuck a long strand of her black hair behind her ear, she couldn’t be less inclined to want to use black magic on such a beautiful creature. 

For a second, she remembers the love potion tucked away in her sleeve, and her heart flickers then drops when she remembers its true purpose. The actual purpose of her visit to the ball. She must remain focused, and can’t let herself be led astray by a breathtaking woman in a dress with a slit that goes all the way up her thigh.

She’s shaken out of her stupor by a heavy sigh from the woman in question. “Sorry, Joe Black. Your name isn’t on the list.”

Panic floods Joe’s lungs that she immediately tries to stuff down. She must look as taken-aback as she feels, as the girl smiles pityingly. “But luckily, we’re doing sales on the door. Fifty pounds for the best night of your life, and not just because you met me.”

Joe can’t help the blush that takes hold on her face and accompanies the smile of relief as she reaches into her other sleeve, pulls out her coin purse, and rests it on the table in front of her.

The woman splutters, cocks an eyebrow of scrutiny at her as she clutches the purse, clearly staggered at the weight of it. “I mean, we take contactless. I don’t need fifty individual pounds.”

She opens it, looks, and frowns. “In fact, these aren’t even pounds.”

“I imagine real gold is far more valuable than whatever currency you use here,” Joe drawls easily, the other girl not lifting her suspicion. Her warm gaze turns cold, and Joe at once feels a sense of unease. 

“Look, if you’re here to take the piss-”

“My dear, I simply wish to attend this glorious ball. I may not be familiar with your money, but I can assure you that the amount in that purse is no small sum.”

The woman still looks a little wary, but most of the ice hardening her stare melted away somewhere around the point where Joe used the words my dear . Heartened, Joe continues, looking at her hand and removing one of the rings that circle her fingers. This one is a huge teardrop ruby, joined by two small but eye-catching diamonds on either side. It is one her husband gave to her, and one that Joe has never held any emotional attachment to; the process of putting it on each morning is one of habit and routine rather than sentimentality. 

“You can take this too, if you need further proof of my authenticity,” she says softly, resting the ring on the table in front of her.

Joe watches as the girl picks it up with wide eyes. She’s still not sure why she’s suspicious of her- she’s told her she’s an actual queen , for goodness' sake- but this move seems to soften her. As she slides the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand, Joe can see that it’s a perfect fit.

“Oh, wow,” the woman smiles playfully at her, crossing her legs and allowing the slit of her dress to expose more than it had been before. “You sure you don’t want to at least take me on a date first?”

She doesn’t at all know what she means, but her delivery and the sultry sparkle to her gaze makes Joe feel like some sort of prey when she’s used to being the predator. Strangely, she doesn’t mind at all.

“Okay, Joe Black. I’ll let you in,” she continues, running her tongue over her teeth before she continues her sentence. “On the condition that you find me and dance with me once I'm done manning the desk.”

Joe feels an indescribable heat flush through her whole body. These feelings are so novel to her that she’s somewhat frightened. Ladies in Andalasia are taught to be demure, shy, retiring. This one breaks every rule Joe’s ever known, and she’s never been more captivated.

“I never asked your name,” she replies with a straight face, attempting to keep her voice steady and unwavering, that of a Queen. 

Her resolve breaks when the woman flashes a smile at her again, bright and dazzling and only serving to bewitch Joe further. “It’s Cherry.”

“As you wish, Cherry.”

Cherry tries and fails to conceal her smile, her red lips pressing together before twisting into a smirk sent over the table for Joe to catch. “It’s a date, then.”

***

Tia has got exactly what she wanted. 

She’s holding her fiance in her arms, gliding across the floor perfectly in time to the music. They’re both decked in beautiful ballgowns, and they’re about to go home to Andalasia and live their happily ever after. 

But Tia still feels as if there’s a chapter missing. Or at least a page. And as part of some funny coincidence, every time her eyes stray from Ellie they seem to drift past her and meet Veronica’s gaze, who in turn instantly looks away as if she’s been burned. Incidentally, the part of her arm where Veronica had touched still seems to feel warm, as if it’s been hit by the rays of the sun. 

It’s a pleasant feeling, one that warms her heart in turn. 

Veronica has drifted into her thoughts a lot in the less-than-twenty-four-hours since she’s met her. Tia can’t think why this is, as she’s hardly had so much as a conversation with her. She wants to, though. She wants to get to know a little more about her, find out what her laugh is like and if it matches the joy of her smile. She wonders what she likes to do and if any of their hobbies match up. She wonders what her hopes are and her fears, what she wants to be even though she’s an adult. And every time her thoughts stray to Veronica, they do so without her realising, as if her mind is playing a trick on her. 

It can’t possibly mean anything, though. Tia has Ellie. Ellie is her true love. They are going to get married. These are truths that she has only built the past week on, and yet they’ve somehow become her whole life. If she doesn’t have Ellie her life goes back to normal, and she can’t think about that, she won’t . 

These truths don’t change others, though. The fact that when she saw Veronica in her emerald dress with her hair pulled into a painstakingly perfect half-up-half-down style, her heart lifted. The fact that she’d felt nervous giving her the compliment about her smile. The fact that when she touched her arm gently and told her she looked beautiful, something inside her shifted. 

She’s scared that shift is permanent. 

Tia wishes she knew more about love to figure this one out. She knows what she felt for Ellie when she first saw her was real. But it’s the fact that the feeling is drifting more and more into the past tense that worries her so much, the intensity wearing like a tarnished ring. In comparison, Veronica is a golden band with a sparkling diamond in the middle, rare and beautiful, sparkling all the colours in the spectrum and light hitting her wherever she goes. 

Guilt strikes her as soon as Ellie catches her eye and smiles softly. The metaphor had been cruel and overly harsh. Ellie is lovely, and Tia is lucky to have her as a bride. 

Part of her just wishes…no, wonders…what would’ve happened if things had played out a little differently. If they hadn’t rushed into things so soon. 

A small sigh from Ellie, barely audible above the music, rips her out of her thoughts.

“What’s the matter?” Tia inquires, Ellie’s blue eyes shooting wide open as if she hadn’t expected to be asked. 

Her face takes on a wistful, sad look for a moment. “Just this night…the ball, and the rest of the city. It’s so beautiful, and I’ve loved getting to explore it. I’m going to miss it here.”

The sparkling diamond from across the ballroom floor catches Tia’s eye again, and she nods slowly. 

“I get it. I’ll miss it here too.”

***

It’s insane, she thinks, that a mother could ever be apprehensive to talk to her own daughter. 

However, as Joe crosses the room and approaches Tia and her betrothed as they stand at the railings that look over the ballroom and watch as couples glide across the floor, she finds a sense of dread creeping up in her throat. She doesn’t want to have to do this. She really doesn’t want to have to do this. But the harmless-looking blonde china doll is her biggest threat, and Joe must do what needs to be done. She’s hopeful that she can get through to Tia. 

So she swallows her fear like she’s been conditioned to do, fixes a fake smile on her face as she gets closer to the pair. Joe watches as Tia’s face contorts in recognition, the way her eyebrows fly up her brow in surprise.

“Mother?! What are you doing here?!” she cries, startling Ellie from beside her who jumps as if someone has rattled her skeleton. 

“I came to rescue you!” Joe lies, pulling Tia into a hug that feels as if she’s enveloping a statue; the action is foreign for both of them. “It didn’t take long for me to work out you must have fallen down that well, you had been spending so much time at it.”

“Oh no, I didn’t fall,” Tia explains happily, as she pulls out of the hug and takes Ellie’s hand gently. “I was rescuing someone myself. Mother, this is Ellie, my true love.”

Joe wouldn’t go as far as to consider herself a paragon of emotional intelligence. However, she’s good at reading people. She’s had to be in the position that she’s in, to tell whether advisors are being genuine or not, to know who’s stabbing her in the back or who’s just telling her what she wants to hear. Most of all, she can tell when somebody wants something from her, when someone’s licking her boots, and she fully expects to see all of these qualities in Ellie Diamond, the imminent usurper to the throne. 

Only, when Joe looks at her, she simply sees any other ordinary girl. 

Not only that, but one that doesn’t appear the slightest bit interested to speak to her beyond the polite “ hello ” and the shake of her hand that she’s just afforded her. Immediately after the interaction, her arms fall to her side and her smile drops off her face, her gaze pulled out to the sea of swaying bodies on the dancefloor as if she’s looking for somebody else. Somebody better. There’s a flash of upset and pain to her blue eyes, as if she’s carrying a broken heart in her chest. And it’s then that the truth hits Joe like a crumbling castle wall, and the enormity of what she’s planned falls on her. 

Ellie isn’t interested in becoming the Queen. Ellie isn’t even interested in being part of the royal family, or in Tia, or even Andalasia. Her heart lies here, either with the place or a person in it, and she’s broken at the thought of having to leave either of them behind. 

Joe has been about to poison a girl who wants even less part in this marriage than she does. 

Tia seems to notice her bride’s subdued demeanour, and she clasps her hands in front of her awkwardly as Ellie drifts back to the bannister, her eyes scanning the crowd. “She’s had such a busy and worrying few days. She’s just tired. But when we get back to Andalasia and she rests, we’ll have the biggest and most extravagant wedding. Oh, Mother, I’m so excited!”

An ice-cold lightning bolt of fear strikes Joe and roots her to the spot as the realisation rushes through her; Tia is about to condemn herself to a loveless marriage, just as she herself had to go her whole life trapped in. 

Joe is now trying to stop Tia taking Ellie back to Andalasia for a very different reason. Now, it really has become a rescue mission.

Grimacing, she takes Tia by the elbow and ushers her away from Ellie’s earshot. She has to try and make her see sense. 

“Tia. Are you really intent on marrying that girl?”

Her daughter screws her face up instantly; it fondly reminds Joe of when she was a teenager, rebellious and opinionated. “Of course I am? Why? Do you have some sort of opinion on her that I’m not interested in hearing, something to add to her lack of grace and poise? ”

“She’s not…” Joe starts. She can’t tell Tia the truth, she can’t break her heart outright like that. It is better to try to convince her in a different manner. “...suitable. You can’t marry her, Tia.”

“What, because of her status? Because she’s not heir to the throne of King Henry the twenteenth, or something else utterly preposterous?” Tia snaps, her eyes growing dark and her face growing furied. 

Joe feels anguish tear up her heart; this was exactly what she’d tried to avoid. If Tia isn’t onside she’ll marry Ellie anyway purely to spite her, but Joe doesn’t know how to tell her that the only person she’ll be hurting is herself.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Joe shakes her head, reaches out in a bid to placate her only for Tia to rip her arm away. She continues regardless. “You’re young, and you barely know each other, and it’s too big of a decision to-”

“This is not about me, Mother, this is about you! You can’t stand to see me in love because it’s an opportunity you were never afforded. I know you and Father were a marriage of convenience, I’m not an idiot. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone else fall for you, to love you for who you are and not just because you’re a bloody great bargaining chip!” Tia hisses, her scowl deepening with every word. “And instead of seeking happiness and love for yourself, you have to sabotage somebody else’s, to drag everybody else down to your level! Well, no. I won’t allow you to. I love Ellie, with all my heart.”

Joe frowns, concerned. “But does she love you?”

Tia’s words are full of conviction, but Joe can’t help but notice the nervous tick Tia’s had since she was little- picking at the skin around her thumb with her index finger, nearly hidden by the lush skirts of her dress. “Of course she does.”

There is nothing else Joe can do but nod. What else is there to do when everything is lost? The unhappy future stretches out in front of her; all she’ll be is a Queen without a throne, no power, no control. The fact doesn’t even seem to bother her as much any more, she simply feels numb. Tia has sealed her fate of a broken marriage. She will give her heart to Ellie, but it will never be enough. And what good is there to be found in poisoning Ellie when the girl will poison herself every day, with the thought of a true love she’s left behind and can never see again? 

Tia’s words do not hurt Joe, for she knows they are true. All her daughter has done is say out loud the words that swirl around her head and, up til now, have only been uttered by a cruel and evil whisper that tortures her as she tries to fall asleep each night.

So Joe takes a step back, maintains composure as she speaks again. “Well then, I wish you both a very long and happy marriage.”

Tia blinks, clearly taken aback by her words. “All right. Thank you, Mother.”

Joe gestures to Ellie, still stood clutching the railing and looking out onto the ballroom floor as if she is entranced. Tia turns to her and leads her away, and her daughter walks off to fulfil her own unhappy ending. 

A shard of glass lodges itself in Joe’s throat which she immediately swallows down.

“There you are!” 

The upbeat, excitable voice is so at odds with Joe’s current emotions that she has to take a deep breath before turning around to see who it had come from. She’s surprised to find the woman from the entrance desk- Cherry , she reminds herself- and she can’t stop the shock of electricity that rushes through her veins at the sight of her again. 

“You were looking for me?” Joe can’t help but greet her, and Cherry lets out a humoured giggle. 

“Who else would I be looking for, silly? I don’t see any other sophisticated women dressed in gold maintaining they’re royalty who’ve given me their jewellery as their entry fee,” she winks, her long lashes momentarily fanning out over her cheekbone and causing Joe’s heart to spark. 

“I’m very glad you let me in. It’s absolutely breathtaking in here,” Joe gives her a little smile, turning her focus to the beauty of her surroundings and letting them soothe her, the warm glow of the lights helping her thaw from her frosty conversation with Tia. 

“Thank you! All my blood, sweat and tears have gone into making sure the place looks good, so. I’m glad somebody’s appreciating it,” Cherry smiles contentedly, and Joe’s eyes almost stare out of her head at her words. 

“ You organised all of this? This is your ball?” 

Cherry lets out a small laugh, gestures at the place as if she owns it. Maybe she does own it. “It’s the Valentine’s ball, my name’s Cherry Valentine. D’you see what I did there? Sounds good, eh?”

Joe decides to ask what she’s wondering. “Is this all yours, then? The palace.”

There’s a blast of a laugh, and Cherry grabs hold of Joe’s arm in an action that completely scrambles her head. “You are too much! Oh my God. Obviously not, I just rented it. I live over in Govan. Not the nicest area but definitely not the worst, and my flat’s got a balcony so it’s not all bad.”

Joe nods, understanding sinking in as she surveys her surroundings again. Cherry’s smile coats her words as she speaks again, lets go of Joe’s arm in a move that has her missing her warmth. 

“I suppose you go to a lot of balls, then? You being…what was it? Defender of the Kingdom and the Faith, or whatnot.”

“Not ones like this,” Joe says. Cherry’s smile falters a little. 

“Well, yours will be a lot better, I guess-”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I intended to imply,” she explains hurriedly, delighting when Cherry’s demeanour perks up again. “This is just lovely, warm and celebratory and full of love. Balls in Andalasia are so…tense, full of formality. I used to think they were enchanting until I came here.”

All of a sudden Cherry stops smiling, her eyes growing wide. “Hold on. You said Andalasia. Do you know Ellie?”

Joe’s stomach drops; it seems that Cherry is acquainted with Ellie. She needs to tread carefully within the conversation, not least because part of her can’t shake the feeling that she needs this woman to hold her in high regard. “She’s my daughter’s fiancé.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows as she sips her drink. “Tia’s your daughter! Guess it’s clear who she gets all her good looks from.”

Joe doesn’t even notice the compliment, frowns instead. “Certainly not her father, he had a face like a cow’s backside.”

A huge hoot of a laugh explodes from Cherry’s red lips, and Joe momentarily gets a shock before relaxing and giggling with her. She’s actually giggling . She can’t remember the last time she laughed like that. 

The happiness is momentary, though, as Cherry turns to her with concern on her face, her red lips pressed together and her perfect eyebrows set in a frown. “So…Tia’s father-”

“He’s dead,” Joe cuts in, not wanting to entertain the notion of even talking further about him. 

“Oh,” Cherry says, her mouth setting into an ‘o’ of surprise before she places a hand on top of Joe’s. 

The action makes her feel lightheaded. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’d spit on his grave if it wouldn’t be a waste of spit.”

Cherry lets out that laugh again- a hybrid of a screech and a hoot- and this time it doesn’t frighten Joe. In fact, she wants to hear it over and over again, wants to be the one behind the laugh, wants to be the one that’s drawn it out of her. 

As Cherry’s laughter dies down, she wipes her eyes and fixes Joe with a humoured smile. “You’re hilarious.”

Joe can’t help the sincerity that spills out of her. “You’re beautiful.”

It could be Joe’s imagination, but Cherry’s cheeks seem to flush pink. It’s so at odds with the confident, flirty woman Joe has come to know however briefly, and something inside her blooms at the thought of getting her to react this way. 

So she opens up, despite her better judgement, and frowns as she looks back to Tia and Ellie dancing on the ballroom floor. 

“I’m not entirely sure they should be together.”

Cherry follows her gaze, and Joe watches as her eyes land on her daughter and her fiance. Joe expects her to ask why, or to be told nonsense, they look so perfect together , or to be told she’s probably jealous that Tia has found someone and she hasn’t. 

Instead, Cherry gives the slightest of nods. “Yeah. I’m not sure either.”

They’re both distracted by a voice over the microphone from the band.

“Well, folks, it’s that time of night. I’d like to ask you to invite someone you did not accompany to the ball this evening to dance the King and Queen’s Waltz.”

Joe’s chest suddenly seems ten times tighter than it did before as she turns to Cherry. She is being ridiculous. There’s no reason for her to be nervous; she’s a Queen , for goodness’ sake. Although…Joe doesn’t know. Something about Cherry strips her back, makes her feel like she can dispense with all the poise and decorum and just be herself. Fine, she’s still not sure who she actually is if she’s not the head of the Royal family or ruler of a Kingdom, the real Joe Black lost in a sea of gold and ermine. But Cherry makes her feel as if she could find her.

So she takes a deep breath, looks into Cherry’s dark eyes that twinkle with anticipation. 

“Cherry, would you do me the honour?”

Her face breaks out into a dazzling smile, and as she takes her by the hand Joe swears she can see sparks fly. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Tia had been visibly disappointed at the announcement, having wanted to dance with Ellie once more before the two of them had been stopped in their tracks at the bottom of the stairs, just in front of the empty ballroom. But Ellie is glad of another rest. She’d spent the last song searching for Lawrence in the crowd from her position on the upper level that looked out onto the ballroom, but being unable to catch a glimpse of their shimmering dress and vivid hair. At least if she sits out of the next dance Ellie can look for them again, perhaps get to talk to them just a little bit more. 

Almost as if she’s manifested them, however, Lawrence and Veronica appear in front of them both, a smile on Lawrence’s face as they approach her that seems almost relieved. 

“Was wondering where you’d got to!” they smile, Ellie’s pulse thudding at her wrist at the thought of Lawrence searching for her the way she’d done for them. 

“I was looking for you too. Are you having a nice night?”

“It’s lovely,” Veronica cuts in, smiling briefly at Ellie before turning her attention to Tia. “I don’t know if you heard the announcement, but, uh…I was wondering if you’d like to dance, Tia.”

Ellie is surprised, but Veronica’s invitation doesn’t offend her. At least if the two of them are dancing together, she can have a bit of uninterrupted time with Lawrence. Right now, that’s the thing she wants most in the world. 

Tia beams, and her smile glows like white gold. “Oh, I would love to. It would be a pleasure.”

Looking to the floor bashfully, Veronica takes Tia’s hand and moves to the ballroom floor, which is beginning to fill up with couples. Ellie lets out a little sigh, the heaviness of this being her final night in Glasgow suddenly weighing too much on her. Lawrence frowns, moving to stand beside her. 

“Hey. You alright?”

Ellie looks at them and manages a smile. She can’t feel unhappy as long as they’re with her. She nods wordlessly, and turns her attention to the dancefloor, where the couples are standing ready and the band are beginning to play the first notes of the song. 

She’s so engrossed in watching the scene in front of her that she almost doesn’t notice Lawrence holding out their hand, jewelled with perfectly painted nails, and it’s then that Ellie’s whole world stops in tandem with her heart.

“Do you want to?”

She blinks, scarcely wanting to believe what they’re asking in case she gets her hopes up. “Do I want to…?”

Lawrence snorts and shakes their head, throwing an eye roll in for good measure. “D’you wanty sneak upstairs and try on Billy Connolly’s Banana Boots- d’you want to dance with me!”

Ellie laughs. It’s so imperfect. It’s clunky and awkward and not at all romantic, and yet it’s exactly what she wanted because it’s coming from Lawrence. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance?” she can’t help but press, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. Lawrence snorts again, looking at their feet shyly. 

“That’s why you’ll probably regret it if you say yes, so. No hard feelings if you don’t want to.”

“I’d-” she begins eagerly, then stops herself. She can’t say she’d love to. If she mentions that word she gets too close to the truth, too close to something that shouldn’t come out. So she coughs a little, composes herself before smiling and trying again. 

“Of course I want to dance with you.”

Lawrence’s face floods with light for the second time that night, and Ellie feels her own smile hurt her face involuntarily. As she takes their hand, warm and tentative around her own, she feels a hairline crack run down her heart, warning her that she’ll only feel worse once the music stops. 

Ellie ignores it, walks with Lawrence to the middle of the dancefloor where there’s enough room around them that they can feel like the only ones in the room. 

“You're in my arms, and all the world is gone

The music playing on for only two…”

“Where do I put my hand?” Lawrence asks, visibly panicking at the fact the music’s begun and neither of them have moved. Ellie can only giggle. 

“You put yours on my shoulder, I think, and mine goes…” she ends her sentence awkwardly, resting her hand halfway between their waist and the small of their back, almost as if she’s going in for a hug. 

Lawrence looks up at her, their eyes meet, and Ellie never wants to leave. 

“So close together, and when I'm with you

So close to feeling alive…”

Lawrence looks awkwardly at their feet. “How do I-”

“So…when I step back, you step forward. And then the same, but backwards.”

“Ellie, I'm begging you to explain this to me like I’m five.”

The laugh that Ellie lets out draws a few gazes their way. She doesn’t care. She’s content to let them look, let them think about what a good couple they make, wonder if they’re together. For that moment, for this dance, the eyes of others are perceiving the alternative universe that Ellie wishes she was living in. 

“A life goes by, romantic dreams must die

So I bid mine goodbye, and never knew…”

Ellie’s heart swells as Lawrence keeps their eyes trained on their feet and still manages to step on her toes. Endeared, she risks pulling them closer, holding them tight like she wants to. They don’t pull away. Instead, they rest their head against her chest, and Ellie feels two more chinks in the flimsy armour she’s tried to put around her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence murmurs. “I’m so bad at this.”

“No you’re not,” Ellie shakes her head, her lips brushing against Lawrence’s hair as she speaks again. “You’re perfect.”

They step across the stone slabs of the dancefloor together, Lawrence moving tentatively and Ellie always there to guide them, her hand against the small of their back in a move that’s selfish and self-indulgent of her because she knows when the song is over she’ll have to let go. 

“So close, was waiting

Waiting here with you

And now, forever, I know…”

Lawrence’s head snaps away from their feet and up to gaze at Ellie, and for a second she thinks about pretending that she wasn’t already looking at them. She doesn’t, though. She wants Lawrence to know how beautiful they are to look at. It’s almost as if Ellie’s said this out loud rather than just thought it, judging by how Lawrence blinks a couple of times, smiles at the floor shyly before speaking. 

“You’re mad for wearing that dress, y’know.”

Ellie smiles, her own blush colouring her cheeks and trying to push down the feeling of being caught out. “How come? It’s beautiful.”

“All that I wanted,

To hold you so close…”

She frowns suddenly, scared of what Lawrence might be thinking. “Sorry that I went back to your flat. It was honestly just to get the dress, I swear I didn’t do anything else.”

When Lawrence strokes their thumb against her shoulder and they look at her insistently, all of Ellie’s worries melt away. 

“I told you, I trust you. Besides,” they say quietly, their smile becoming shy. “It means a lot to me that you did.”

“So close to reaching

That famous happy ending

Almost believing

This was not pretending…”

“I’m honestly so happy you came back,” they say softly, seeming all at once to hold her closer than before. “This is gonny sound wild, but I started missing you the moment I got in that car this morning. That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, eh?” 

Ellie laughs quickly before she replies. “I started missing you the moment I realised we needed to say goodbye.”

Lawrence returns her laugh; humourless, bittersweet and resigned. They shake their head, tilt it up to the glass ceiling framing the stars in the velvet sky. “Christ, this is so unfair.”

Ellie just nods. She understands. 

“Now you're beside me, and look how far we've come,

So far, we are so close.”

The music swells, and Ellie takes Lawrence’s hands in her own, spinning them round in a circle until they’ve both forgotten the world, forgotten the fact Ellie is leaving, forgotten their feelings and all the complications they bring. For a moment there is only joy and laughter and their matching smiles, until they tire each other out and they’re standing face to face, breathless and giddy before reality sinks in once more.

“Oh how could I face the faceless days,

If I should lose you now?”

“I never took you to Merchant Square,” Lawrence says suddenly as they replace their hand on Ellie’s shoulder, gazing back down at their feet. “It’s this place indoors with, eh, a cobbled pavement, and it’s got all these bars and restaurants and that. It’s got these rainbow fairy lights on the ceiling. Aw, Ellie, you would’ve loved it.”

Ellie looks across the dancefloor to where Tia is dancing with Veronica. They look picture-perfect as they move together; Veronica is like a little figurine in a music box, the frills of her green dress flaring out as Tia twirls her around with a shy smile on her face. Ellie watches as Veronica returns it with stars in her eyes, before pausing for a second and snapping her gaze over to meet Ellie’s stare, her mouth setting in a little circle of surprise as if she’s been caught looking. Startled, Ellie fixes her gaze onto her own feet. 

“Let's go on dreaming

Though we know we are…”

“You’ve got Veronica to go there with.”

Lawrence sighs heavily, tripping over their own feet a little. Before they can say anything, Ellie gives a little helpless huff of air. “Don’t react like that. It’s true. Veronica’s amazing, Lawrence. She’s cheerful, and nice, and friendly, and she supports you.”

“I know that. Don’t make me feel worse than I already do,” Lawrence cuts in. 

Ellie blinks. “Why would you feel bad?”

They hold each others’ gaze and still their dance to a stop as Lawrence speaks quietly. “Because she’s not…she isn't...”

“So close, so close

And still so far.”

The song comes to an end around them, and Lawrence’s unfinished sentence hangs in the air like lead. Ellie thinks she must look ridiculous waiting for them to speak again, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. Lawrence themself looks as if someone has frozen them, their expression hesitant as they blink and mouth nothing in particular, coherent words dying on their lips before they even get the chance to form. 

“Lawrence, your true love is a wonderful dancer,” a voice drifts in, and it takes Ellie a second to even register it, realising that it’s Tia’s. Her heart plummets into her chest as Veronica replaces herself at Lawrence’s side, smiling at them easily and forcing the words that Lawrence had been trying to form to completely slip away. 

“Wish I could say the same for mine. It’s three left feet Lawrence has got, never mind two!” Veronica jokes, smiling at Ellie with pity as she squeezes Lawrence’s hand. “Sorry for leaving you to be the dance teacher, Ellie.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ellie collects herself, smiles in a way that hurts her cheeks and her jaw because she can’t seem to twist it in a way that makes it authentic. “Lawrence did an amazing job.”

“Oh! Did they, now?” Veronica teases, poking Lawrence’s side playfully and so at odds with the weak smile Lawrence can’t quite commit to. “Well, you can show me all your new dance skills. Come on, before the music starts!”

Veronica excuses them both and tugs Lawrence away, and Ellie is left standing staring at the space they once stood in. Emotions hit her like a ton of bricks, and she almost doesn’t notice Tia squeeze her shoulder, concern painting her face. 

“You look sad.”

She has to force herself to snap out of it. This is the life she’s chosen; with Tia, back in Andalasia, as part of the royal family. She can’t hope for anything else. 

“Oh, no,” Ellie shakes her head, needles seeming to prick her eyes that she can’t blink away. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s go home,” Tia smiles warmly, wrapping an arm around Ellie’s middle. There’s a pause in which Tia’s eyes scan the ballroom, her body slumping at her gaze seems to fall on something. “I would’ve said goodbye to Mother, but I doubt she cares enough. Doesn’t look like she wants to be disturbed, anyway.”

Ellie is shocked when she follows her gaze and finds the Queen dancing with Cherry, of all people, the two of them holding each other tight and looking as if they’ve known each other years instead of hours. Ellie feels momentarily sorry for Tia. She’ll help make her happy. She’ll care about her. 

But she’ll never stop wondering what if. 

“I’ll just get my coat from the cloakroom. Would you like to say goodbye to Lawrence before we go?”

Ellie pauses, blinks away the tears threatening to spill from her eyes and simply shakes her head. 

She can’t bear to say goodbye to Lawrence again. 

***

Joe can’t put her finger on what she feels right now. 

The last dance has long since finished, but as she’d gone to curtsey for Cherry in thanks, Cherry had simply pulled her into her arms once again, a wicked smile on her face. 

“Y’know, now that I think about it,” she’d smiled mischievously. “One dance as an entry fee is a bit shit, isn’t it? Really it should be two. Or maybe three. What do you think?”

Joe had forgotten about Ellie, and Tia, and the poison, and her true intentions for attending the ball, because none of that had mattered when she’d stared into Cherry’s black eyes and felt her stomach flip over.

“I think,” she’d murmured, matching Cherry’s energy as she’d taken her hand. “That sounds like a rather fair deal.”

Now she’s midway through her second dance with Cherry, wrapped up in a conversation that neither of them have seemed to want to break free from judging from how they’d spoken  throughout the entirety of the first dance they’d shared. Joe had told Cherry about her duties and life as a Queen, and Cherry had done the same with stories of her own in Glasgow. The more Cherry has spoken to her, the more Joe seems to cling to her, intoxicated and charmed and wishing the night never has to end. 

“Are you going back to Andalasia after this?” Cherry asks her quietly, her gaze on the stones in a rare show of uncertainty. “I would’ve, y’know. I would’ve liked to see you again.”

“I would’ve liked the same,” Joe replies instantly, part of her heart hurting. “But, alas. I’ll need to look out for my daughter. I’m sure she’ll come to need me, even if she doesn’t realise it now.”

Cherry snorts. “Tia’s a big girl, she can look after herself. But I guess…”

Her gaze flicks down to Joe’s lips for a split second as her sentence trails off, and Joe feels the blood in her veins freeze in shock. 

“...it’s nice of you to look out for her. Shows what a good person you are,” Cherry continues, smiling kindly at Joe in a move that makes her smile back, pull her in close and rest her head on her shoulder. 

Cherry doesn’t pull away. She isn’t rough or closed-off, only dancing with Joe for status or for political point-scoring. She wanted to dance with Joe because she likes spending time with her. She likes spending time with her enough to want to dance with her twice, to want to see her again once the ball is over. 

Joe is confused; it’s something that’s never happened to her before tonight, and she can’t figure out her emotions. All she knows is that her pulse is thudding at an unhealthy rate, her heart so fast she swears she can hear it, and that every time she looks at Cherry she gets a pleasant sort of seasickness that she can’t explain away. It’s then that Joe pinpoints one of her feelings, so rare that it’s taken a while for her to identify it.

For the first time in what’s surely years, Joe is happy.

“Cherry,” Joe murmurs against her skin before pulling away to gaze into her eyes again, an action she can’t seem to stop. “You wouldn’t happen to have put some sort of spell on me, would you?”

“That’s funny,” Cherry looks at her through her lashes, her voice hardly much more than a purr as she replies to Joe. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

And Joe is so caught up in her new-found feelings and the deep joy that she’s succumbed to, that she doesn’t notice the vial that flies out of the sleeve of her dress as Cherry spins her around on the dancefloor. 

She doesn’t notice it roll across the deep greys and browns of the stones and come to a stop against the silver glitter of Ellie’s shoe. 

She doesn’t notice as Ellie- heartbroken and torn and yearning for someone who’s in love with another- bends down and picks up the vial with intrigue, reading the label with thoughts flooding her head. 

Perhaps a love potion doesn’t need to always be about someone else’s feelings. Maybe this could help me fall for Tia. Maybe this could help me forget about Lawrence.

She doesn’t want to forget about Lawrence. She wants nothing less. But the thought of returning to Andalasia to be with Tia and never getting to see them ever again- never getting to hear their laugh, never getting to gaze into their kaleidoscope eyes- is a fate she doesn’t want to be bound to. 

So she throws caution to the wind as she pulls off the cork, doesn’t consider the implications of just drinking something she’s picked up off the floor. She imagines how Lawrence would laugh at her, would knock the bottle out of her hand with an incredulous look. Maybe they’d make some joke about how she’s assimilating into the Glaswegian culture of drinking anything you see. She can practically hear their voice and Ellie almost wants to smile at the thought before reality hits her like a train and her heart physically aches in her chest. 

It’s enough to make her lift the vial to her lips and shot the liquid inside. 

In an instant, regret drenches her veins as her throat turns to fire and swells up. She desperately tries to breathe, attempting a gasp only to find her lungs seem to have shrivelled to half their size. Panic and fear instantly fog her mind as she feels her legs give way underneath her and she collapses to the ground, her head hitting against the stone floor.

In amongst the paralysing terror and the overwhelming realisation that if she closes her eyes she might not wake up, Lawrence is still, ridiculously, the last thing that fills Ellie’s mind.

And then everything goes black.