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It was the strangest thing. Rue was used to being looked at, to feeling beautiful. Their carefully crafted glamour had made sure of that. Half the time, they felt their appearance to be almost as much an accessory as whatever splendid outfit they’d planned. It was just like the fine fabrics they’d taken pride in sculpting - versatile, changeable. Easily molded to fit whatever occasion, with a carefully practiced expression of impassiveness that couldn’t have been more carefully placed if it had been plucked from the Chorus itself. Rue was used to feeling like a piece of fine art - delicate and lovely and not under any circumstances to be touched.
Maybe that was why the moment in the woods had changed so much. Despite the fact that they’d slapped his hand away, it was the first time in a long time that anyone had even made a move to touch them. They’d like to think the gesture of fending off suitors carefully practiced, and yet few had even attempted to break through the walls of their disguise, much less grabbed their hand. That, combined with the feeling of watching him cover himself in mud and climb a tree, to watch those wild instincts Rue had almost forgotten within themselves be so blatantly followed - the marriage between perfect chivalry and reckless chaos. Needless to say, Rue immediately was smitten.
All of these were thoughts they’d had on the way to the masquerade ball, a distraction from the slight of the Seafoam court mocking their revelation. The insult lost its intended effect, however, as Rue walked into the grand ballroom to see a marvelous festivity, even by bloom standards. As the ball took off in earnest, throughout their polite conversations with various members of other courts, Rue found their eyes watchfully sweeping the room, searching for Captain Hob. Granted, even for someone not looking he would be hard to miss. Each time they found themselves alone, feeling out of place at a party full of gorgeously decorated fey that they loomed uncoordinatedly over, they found themselves yearning for the comfort of someone a little more like them.
All at once, the ceiling of the grand ballroom opened up, letting the beautiful vastness of the night sky appear in view before immediately replacing the stars with vibrant, multicolored fireworks. In an instant, they felt a warm, soft pressure holding them still, safe inside the circle of the arms of a stranger who had gently grasped the sides of their arms. Rue looked down, letting the faintest tendrils of hope build inside them that it was the man they’d spent all evening searching for. As they took in the cream velvet gloves, and the dark claws peeking out of them, they felt a sigh of relief build in their chest knowing they were safely in the arms of their beloved. Looking between his clawed hands and their own, they felt their previous hope strengthen - they looked alike.
A deep voice spoke from behind them, and Rue felt his hot breath upon their shoulder. They could tell he was making an effort to speak softly, and Rue ignored the sudden urge to lean back into him, to turn the gesture into an embrace.
“Master of Ceremonies - forgive me for laying hands on you.” He said, speaking gently, out of breath from the suddenness of his own actions.
“It is quite alright, Captain. I was startled by the fireworks as well.” They said turning, still within the circle of his arms, to face him. They were lucky that feathers could hide the deep blush that surely graced their cheeks upon such an intimate gesture of closeness.
“I must say, you look resplendent. I was wondering if - if you’d do me the honor of dancing with me this evening. That is - if you’d like to.” He said, still speaking softly. Rue was at once aware of how very close they were standing, his arms still wrapped around them, as if forgotten. Rue couldn't possibly forget the warmth of the gesture, the tenderness with which he held them.
“You look divine, my dear,” Rue said, causing a deep blush to build within his furry cheeks at the endearment. “It would be my great honor to dance with you, Captain,” they whispered, hoping he would lean in still further to hear them.
“May I transcribe my name upon your dance card?” He whispered just as softly, and Rue almost pouted at the thought of being removed from his warm embrace. Rue gently reached into a pocket within their gown as Hob released them from his grasp, not yet stepping back from their immodestly close stance. Where his claws had pressed, a deep warmth remained upon their shoulders.
He signed his name with a graceful flourish and sheepishly looked for his own dance card as Rue tucked theirs back into the pocket of their dress. Once he retrieved it, he handed it to Rue for their signature. They could almost make out his middle name on the messy scrawl of the card but found they couldn’t quite read it. A question for another time. As they handed it back to him, a strange expression overtook him, not unlike the one he’d had that first day, the one that Rue was sure meant he was deciding whether or not to pounce on them. It was an almost hungry expression, one common to goblins as a species but rare upon the Captain himself. It made Rue feel delicate, but not in the way they were so used to feeling. Not breakable, but vulnerable. Exposed.
Never breaking their gaze, he folded the paper carefully, lining each crease with exact precision. Once it had been folded into a tiny, perfect square, he took one clawed hand and tossed it softly into the soft maw of his mouth, showing the very edge of his fangs before swallowing immediately. His eyes never left theirs, and his gaze looked hungry.
It took every effort not to faint on the spot. The message was very clear to Rue - that he wished to dance with none but them. It was enough to make them swoon, and they thought about taking their own card and following suit, but afraid of being so very forward, Rue simply grasped their hands intertwined with his, taking extra care not to tangle their claws, and walked him to the dance floor.
As they danced together, song after song, they began talking in light tones, remarking on the splendors of the bloom. Both of them being uncoordinated and having not attended many dances, they frequently found themselves stumbling or faltering, only to see the gentle, caring smile of the other and regain their composure. There was laughter when one of them slipped, certainly, but no derision. Just a tender, nonjudgmental chuckle at their shared awkwardness. Eventually, exhausted from all the quick, excitable dancing, they retired to a table together.
Far into the long night, Rue had leaned forward, and in conspiratorial tones asked what the “P” in K.P. Hob stood for. He had sat up straighter at this, before leaning in to whisper directly into Rue’s ear. The feeling of him ducking close to them, the sensation of his breath just above their neck made Rue shudder.
“Knackleless,” he breathed, and Rue took a soft intake of breath at his closeness. As he pulled away, Rue let out a soft chuckle at his earnestness. They were shocked to see him looking hurt, his ears pinned back, and his golden eyes on the edge of tears. Rue recognized that look - they themselves had worn it not so long ago, as they showed their true form at the hedge maze. Rue put a comforting hand on his shoulder and leaned in closer, still speaking softly.
“It is a good name. I only laughed because it suits you so well,” they breathed, their cheeks flushing scarlet from sheer proximity.
“It does indeed. It is a silly name.” He said, still clearly hurt, but now blushing as well at Rue’s touch. He wouldn’t meet their gaze.
“It suits you because it is beautiful, as you are.” Rue breathed, stroking their hand across his shoulder to comfort him further, feeling the stiff fabric of his suit beneath their large hand.
Hob finally looked up, setting his gaze into Rue’s dark eyes, and they hoped he could sense the sincerity with which they spoke. He said nothing but did not break their gaze, simply continuing to stare into Rue’s eyes. They were so close that Rue could feel his heart racing, and they knew theirs was as well. The music shifted then, from a strange dance song from the mortal realm into a slow, graceful waltz.
“Since you seem to have misplaced your dance card, it would seem almost improper if I were to ask you for yet another dance,” Rue said, suddenly breaking the silence with a note of humor in their voice. They realized at once that their hand was still caressing his shoulder.
“Ah, but I would never deign to deny you a request. Propriety be damned.” There was an edge to his voice, a deeper quality that Rue picked up on immediately. As they walked to the dance floor, they continued.
“Propriety be damned? My dear captain, I never thought to hear you say such a thing.” Rue said, still quiet enough that none else could hear. The waltz was just beginning as they approached.
“A true goblin never follows a rule,” he growled, taking Rue’s hand into his own and placing his other behind their shoulder, and there was a glint of greed in his eyes as he said this, a possessiveness Rue hadn’t seen in him before. It was different from the hunger he’d shown earlier when he ate the dance card - that had been simply wanting them. But now that they’d all but confessed their affections, his actions were more sure, more confident. He was telling Rue that he had them. That they were his. And then they began to dance.
Rue had never considered themselves very graceful, but could feel nothing short of the word as they held him closely, gliding across the dance floor and never once breaking eye contact. He made them feel like they were floating, lighter than air despite them each being seven feet tall. The skirt of their gown flew out beneath them, and they were sure that together, intertwined they looked absolutely ethereal.
He looked at them like they were a wonder to behold. He did not glance at anyone else in the ball, and Rue could’ve sworn that for a moment they were the only people in the world. They realized at once that when people had found them beautiful in their glamour, it hadn’t truly meant anything at all. The tenderness with which he looked at them was an intensity they’d never known, and it captured their heart all at once. They pulled him closer still, leaving a gap of only a few inches.
As the music blended together, each song bleeding seamlessly into the next, when the music ended Rue was shocked. It had been far too short, and they had no intention of letting Hob go. Rue felt his grip loosen, and they dropped one hand from his shoulder but left the other intertwined with his, holding his hand still. Their tower was outside, just a few minutes away. Rue could not let the evening end just yet.
“Shall I walk you back to your tent?” They asked. He looked confused, but appreciative, and walked hand in hand with them to exit the ball. On the long walk back, they did not once drop each other’s hands, and instead made pleasant small talk, both making a clear effort to walk slowly. As they approached the goblin pagoda, Rue knew their night was coming to a close. They took the hand not holding Hob’s and plucked a black peony from their gown, tucking it softly behind his ear. They let their hand trail down his face as they pulled it away. He stopped in his tracks, transfixed.
Rue realized that as shocked as they had been to feel beautiful under his gaze, his face betrayed the same emotion they had felt dancing with him.
“Thank you,” he choked out. “For this evening, and indeed for the bloom itself,” he spoke nervously, and Rue squeezed his hand tighter in theirs.
“It has been an honor to dance with a gentleman amongst gentlemen,” Rue said, honestly. “May you have a pleasant evening, Knickolas.”
“May you as well, Delloso de la Rue.” He said their full name with a distinct reverence, letting it linger on his lips like the dance card.
Rue watched him leave, unable to make their legs move to walk back. They watched a lantern alight within his tent and saw his shadow through the thin canvas. They watched him take the flower from his ear, hold it in both hands, looking for a long time. And then they saw his shadow as, petal by petal, with the precision and grace of a machine, he devoured it.
Rue turned, looking both to the assortment of buildings, with fey walking to and fro, back to where the ball had let out. They felt a sudden urge, like an insatiable itch within them. They turned from the well-lit grounds filled with people to the forest near the edge of the goblin pagoda, the one that they’d been in for the Hart Hunt. Rue had a spark of instinct, one that they’d long denied themselves. The careful balance between civility and pure instinct that they’d seen in Hob - he made them feel a word they could barely form within their mind - wild. The itch grew from a place deep within them to a need, and they felt it across their skin, blurring their vision and giving them for once a single-minded focus. Before they even understood the desire, Rue began running, immediately engulfed by an endless sea of trees lit only by moonlight.
It was a crazed instinct, driven purely by emotion, and it was such a difference from Rue’s crafted stoicism that it made them want to scream - and they did, giving a ferocious roar as they barreled through the trees. The forest was vast, but not by any means tame. While Rue’s paws were not suited for graceful ballroom dancing, they were perfectly fit to the forest floor, and they ran at a speed that surprised them, having not run in any full capacity for millennia. An all-encompassing feeling of freedom came from inside them as they dropped to all fours, bounding at top speed towards nothing.
Among the forest, there were few animals. So when from behind them, Rue heard an equally paced running, it frightened them to their core. They ran faster still, ursine claws digging into soil and moss. They breathed in, taking at full capacity the smell of the forest into their lungs, and behind it, a familiar scent they could place immediately. A scent that had been with them all evening. They should’ve known - there were few fey that could match their speed, and fewer still heavy enough to be heard over their own running.
The element of chase made it all the more thrilling, and they weaved in and out of trees, zig-zagging in every direction to avoid being caught. At some point they jumped clean over a little stream, buying them more time caught in the thrill of being chased. When they came upon the clearing that they’d found in the first hunt, the one where Hob had tried to grab their hand, they slowed, shuffling back onto two feet. The ferns that littered the meadow were plush underneath their bare feet, and they appreciated the feeling of it, savoring each moment that they no longer were in their glamour.
Hob slowed too, also falling back onto two feet as well. While Rue stood at the center of the clearing, he skirted the edge, standing between the trees and staring at them.
“Forgive me, bloom master, for the intrusion. When I heard you run from my tent, I could only assume that you’d been chased,” he said, out of breath from running, practically hunting them down.
“It is no intrusion, darling Knickolas,” Rue breathed evenly, somehow composed even after the chase. Their dress was torn, and the hem was covered in mud from scraping against the forest floor as they ran. Their feathers were out of place, and their pupils dilated from excitement. He looked at them as if there could be no grander sight than the crazed, dirt-covered owlbear.
He said nothing, only stepping forward into the moonlit glow of the clearing. The woods around them were beautifully silent as they watched each other, both still filled with excitement from the ball and from the romp through the forest.
“Would you care for a final dance this evening?” They said, trying desperately to tone down the unhinged look they were sure was still glinting in their eyes. They took notice of his outfit - his hat had fallen off entirely, and his monocle had fallen to hang from his uniform. The delicate off-white color made the stains from the forest all the more noticeable. As they watched, he peeled the muddy gloves from his hands. He looked heavenly.
“We haven’t any music,” he said after a moment's thought. His voice was softer, more tender when they were alone. Filled to the brim with longing. And yet he made no further move towards them, other than the one to step into the light itself. They were a good ten feet apart, and Rue wished at once to close the gap.
“Is that all that gives you pause, captain?” Rue asked, softer now to match his tone. He wouldn’t meet their eyes, and they were certain they’d offended him in some way with their odd request.
“Truth be told, it is scandalous enough for us to be alone together, should anyone see. It would be indecorous indeed were we to-“ his voice cut out, and Rue knew exactly the word he was omitting - were they to touch. The word alone brought a thrill of electricity to Rue’s spine as they considered it.
“Look around you, Knickolas. Who would see?” Rue said, taking a step closer. He didn’t not back away from their approach, or even look as though he wanted to. He looked as though he wanted to leap towards them, to close the distance with a single bound.
“This bloom may very well be our last. Shall we let it pass by us, unscandalized?” Rue tried again. His bottom lip quivered, and the fangs on his lower jaw were just visible. They nearly had him.
“Propriety states-“ he began weakly, knowing the excuse to be flimsy at best. Rue had one final move, one they knew would finally bring him to open up.
As he spoke about propriety, Rue reached inside the small pocket of their dress, retrieving their dance card. Hob’s voice faltered before stopping altogether, his eyes narrowing in, taking in every moment with rapt attention.
As slowly as they could, Rue folded the dance card between their claws, creasing each edge to perfect symmetry. They did not drop his gaze, the captain's mouth now fully hanging open, as Rue put the folded card between their beak and ate it.
He leapt towards them, closing the distance in a single moment, and very clearly stopped himself from tackling them to the ground. Now mere inches away, he waited for them to make the first move.
Rue held their arms out, and placed them over his shoulders, pulling him hungrily towards them. Their feathered wings draped around the back of him like a cape, fully engulfing him in the warmth of their grasp. He moved his hands to their waist, careful not to soil their gown further with his claws. Rue hummed the only melody they remembered, a lullaby from their time in the mortal realm. It was a soft, wistful tune, and the couple swayed together slowly, both acutely aware of the other, just inches from themselves.
As quickly as it began, the song ended and Rue began to hum another song, one that was not ever sung to them. They hummed a melody all their own, pulling Hob closer still until their chests were nearly touching. His hands tightened around their waist, and they could feel the restraint behind his claws, could see it in his eyes as they looked down at him.
Bathed in moonlight, his off-white suit looked pearl grey, and it shone staunchly against the colors of the forest. Before they fully realized what they were doing, Rue leaned their forehead against his, closing their eyes contentedly. They let out a soft noise that was half sigh and half hoot, feeling him relax against them and lean his forehead onto theirs. Rue took a step forward, closing the gap between them and pressing them bodily together, intertwined into an embrace. Rue hummed still, softly, swaying with him.
“D-Delloso-“ Hob whispered, unable to complete his sentence and instead simply whispering their name with all the reverence of a divine being.
“Knickolas,” they sighed in response, feeling his heart race as they used his first name.
He pulled his forehead back, and Rue already missed the warmth of it against their own. He stayed pressed to them, and ever so gently he touched his cheek to theirs, pressing his soft fur against their lush feathers. He practically melted into their arms, and Rue could feel his heart race faster still as they found this new position, a hairsbreadth from a kiss. They stopped humming, just for a moment, and stood holding him in the clearing of the forest
“I wish for this night to never end,” they whispered, feeling him warm beneath their hands and beside their face, knowing that this intimacy would soon end, and not knowing when they would again be holding him.
“Then it shall not,” he muttered, and Rue could hear the determination in his voice. “I would stop time itself at your whim.” While his tone was dead serious, his words were warm and honeyed. Rue pulled their head back by a few inches to look into his warm, trusting eyes. And slowly, moving forward a quarter of an inch at a time, keeping his gaze the whole time, as if a question, they kissed him.
It was a warmth that covered every inch of their body, being kissed by Hob. As all things he did, it was precise, and Rue wished nothing more than to shatter his restrained decorum like porcelain. Always the gentleman, his hands never moved from their spot around Rue’s waist, though they did squeeze tighter, feeling the body underneath the gown.
Rue, on the other hand, having no obligation to be a gentleman, softly traced a single claw behind one of his large ears, the other hand taking a gentle caress at his jawline, keeping his face aligned with theirs. Their breathing grew ragged, gasping for air and taking in his scent as they stepped over closer, crowding as much of their body against his as was possible.
Despite his hands not betraying him, his breathing did. Hob took in shuddering gasps, sighing gently as they kissed each other again and again. He held Rue’s hips with his bare hands, feeling the soft fabric of the dress underneath his claws, and Rue suddenly felt grateful for the mud that had caused him to remove his gloves. Rue gasped at the feeling and felt his claws sink slightly deeper in, finding purchase beneath the fabric. The dress had already been ruined - what were a few more holes?
They stayed frozen in place for a long time, doing nothing but kiss each other. Eventually, Rue pulled away from the kiss, continuing to hold him but beginning, yet again, to hum the tune they’d been composing aloud. The music made both of them sway, unable to break their grasp. They gently balanced their head upon his shoulder as they did so, fully wrapping him in an embrace.
Rue was used to feeling like fine art, a thing to be beheld. But as they danced and kissed and spoke in the middle of the forest until the break of dawn, Rue knew that there was no painting that could capture the majesty of the two creatures in ruined clothes holding each other. As the sun rose over their spot in the clearing, Rue barely had the nerve to pull away from him.
“I - I must go. They’ll be expecting me. I’ll write to you as soon as I can, my darling Knickolas,” they whispered softly, at last removing themselves from his grip.
“I will wait for it with bated breath, Delloso de la Rue,” he said simply, letting his claws drag as Rue pulled away, wanting nothing more than to linger. He watched them beam down at him, only breaking eye contact once they disappeared into the trees, and he couldn’t help but to watch them run back through the forest on all fours, a sight to behold in their tattered black ball gown.
At the goblin pagoda, a letter was waiting for him.