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Jill Warrick, Princess of the Northern Territories and Ward of Rosaria, wanted nothing more than to be a commoner, if only for one night.
The Yuletide Ball was upon them at the end of the week, or rather, setup for the event was underway, and Jill wished upon Metia that she could have attended as someone that no one would recognize. She wanted to be able to stray away from the watchful eyes of the Shields, wanted to be able to glide around the ballroom without fear that someone would be lurking behind every corner. She didn't want to have to trail behind Anabella in a procession and dance with the other ladies. She wanted none of it.
Well... there was one perk that came with her status.
Jill leaned against her balcony, dreamily focused on the training yard. Several of the Shields of Rosaria were being briefed on tonight, on their duties and their expectations, their responsibilities, and who they were to be keeping an eye on. And one Shield stood tall at attention at the front of the group. A Shield with mussed black hair and eyes like the depths of the sea. The First Shield. Clive Rosfield.
She always liked looking at him in uniform. When he trained with the others, she liked to tease him that the reason the usual Shield uniform had no sleeves was because they'd had to cut them off just to fit his muscular arms into the garment.
Clive... hadn't gotten her hint, merely laughing and expressing how grateful he was that his status gave him more armor than the others to denote his rank. Jill had deflated a little, but she was undeterred.
At 21, Clive was now the youngest First Shield of Rosaria in its history. He'd gotten the title years ago, but now, she'd been blessed to watch him grow into it. At first, he'd struggled to find the confidence to command those older than him, but now, he carried it with ease. He was a born leader, and Jill loved watching it manifest before her eyes. Never had she felt prouder.
"Lady Warrick," Hortense chided, her tongue clicking. "I haven't all the time in the world, you know!"
Jill spun back towards the seamstress and sat down on her bed. "Sorry."
"What'll you have me make?"
Jill wanted to be invisible. Perhaps make her a cloak. But she knew that amidst the fancy wigs and elegant gowns, to stand out was to blend in.
"I'd like to be in blue," Jill began. "But other than that, I'm not sure I have much of an idea."
Hortense rolled her eyes. "Lady Warrick, we go through this every time I make you a garment. Do you want long, or do you want short?"
Jill bit her lip. "Both?"
"Both," Hortense repeated, stress leaking out from her ears. "Okay, what of your mask? It is a masquerade, so that must be the highlight."
"I don't really care. Whatever you want to do, I am fine with, Hortense. I just want to blend in."
"So not a wide dress people must scootch away from?"
Jill smiled. "No, I think not."
"See, you do have opinions!"
"I just don't want to be followed around like I'm leading someone to a hideaway. I want to enjoy my night. Could you perhaps... not make something so gorgeous?"
Hortense's brow raised and she scoffed. "To ask me to lower the quality of my work is an insult to my profession, Lady Warrick."
Nervous, Jill wrang out her fingers. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize."
"Why are you so eager to blend in?"
Jill thought about the Solstice Ball, the masquerade, the gathering. An event fit for royalty. Of course all eyes would be on the weird little unmarried ward who was perfectly of age to be wed and with child. She was eighteen after all. But all she wanted was to run up to the food table and eat tea cakes without anyone's comments on how it would affect her figure while she searched out a husband, and she wanted to refuse a dance from any suitor she wanted. She wanted to spin and spin until the room was nothing but a blur and no one would tell her how foolish and unbecoming her behavior was. There would be no Anabella to pull her away by the ear, no others to harp on her or hound her. She wouldn't have to curtsey perfectly, nor would she have to worry about keeping a straight back under the weight of her dress. She would be free.
"I just want to try it out for a night," she said instead.
Hortense let out a deep breath. "Alright then, Lady Warrick, I'll do it. You handle that silver hair of yours, and I'll handle the rest."
"There will be hundreds of silver haired maidens. Wigs are most common at these balls, are they not?" Jill's eyes glistened.
"Fine. Then you'll be unrecognizable. I'll see to it."
"Thank you, Hortense."
A week later, Jill raced through the busy halls, bustling with last minute preparations for the ball later that evening. She shimmied against the wall so she didn't hit someone wandering around with a ladder, she ducked beneath two carrying a table above their heads. And she lifted her skirts and pushed her way into her room where Hortense awaited her.
Jill stopped and marveled at the dress laid out on the bed. "Oh, it's beautiful."
"Let's see if there's any tweaking we need to do."
The ladies attending Jill for the evening had already been dismissed at her own request, so Jill and Hortense worked her into a corseted dress with a high neck and no sleeves, though one shoulder bore a design akin to darkened icicles. The train of the dress was long; she'd have to remember that throughout the night, and the bodice shimmered like ice caught in the moonlight. Hortense pinned Jill's long hair up into a low bun that sat elegantly at the nape of her neck before pulling the final piece from a bag. She set the mask over Jill's face, and Jill held it in place while Hortense tied it firmly behind her head. It was a mask like a crown for an ice queen, and Jill shook her head violently to test it out, much to Hortense's displeasure- and she fixed Jill's hair once again- but the mask was firmly in place.
Looking in the mirror while Hortense rubbed red onto Jill's lips, Jill was more than pleased. She looked like the other nobles: she wasn't going to stand out, nor was she so underdressed that eyes would fall on her.
"I hear the Marquess looks rather fine in his outfit for tonight." Hortense smiled, and Jill stiffened.
"Does he?" she asked, as casual a voice as she could manage. "We spoke very briefly about tonight. I hear he has some Shield duties, but they've mostly been passed on so he can represent Rosalith with Joshua."
"Oh, the young girls I've seen have been jumping out of their skin to get to see the young Lord Rosfield. He's gotten handsome. Lost some of his baby face and is starting to grow into himself as a man."
"A very young man," Jill snorted, thinking about how Joshua, heir to the Dukedom, still ran and hid from his mother whenever she wanted him, hiding behind statues and in corners while Jill and Clive were forced to find him. Or how he would pretend he was summoned to an important "lesson" from his father regarding his "heir-dom" in order to avoid taking his medicine. Or how he fed Torgal handfuls of carrots off his plate.
"Well," Hortense said, looking Jill over, "The Marquess will not be able to take his eyes off you, Lady Warrick. If he can find you."
Jill's face flushed beneath her mask. "Oh, I'm not hoping that Clive sees me. I have no need of his company."
"But you have want of it."
"No!" Jill said, her voice strained from the lie. "I... he's free to do as he pleases!"
Hortense nodded to herself approvingly of her work and began packing up her things. "Alright, My Lady. But I wonder: Is it then Lord Murdoch that you stare at so longingly out the window? Perhaps Sir Tyler? Sir Wade?"
Skin prickled, Jill felt herself burning in embarrassment. "I still don't know what you're talking about!"
"Of course you don't." Hortense winked before bowing and heading out the door.
The masquerade lived up to its name.
Jill blended well into the lively crowd; masked faces looking at her costume with the same interest that they looked at all the others. Eyes skidded over her as she pushed through the crowd, her hand clutching her train to her side so she could navigate her way through the packed rooms and halls.
Obscured faces and flashes of color passed through Jill's vision as she bolted straight for the buffet, grabbing one of the finger foods that she'd be chastised for eating on any normal day. She shoved it into her mouth and closed her eyes in delight before grabbing wine from a passing servant and making her way into the ballroom itself.
The Archduke and Duchess were easy to spot, despite the point of the ball. Anabella wore a gown of white, wings sticking out so wide that she couldn't leave the dais where the thrones were without risking injuring someone. Her ladies and other prominent figures joined her up there rather than forcing her to mingle. And Elwin wore the most regal looking red Jill had ever seen. Combined with the charming smile he beamed about the room as he looked around that Clive had inherited, and the imposing, but expensive and gorgeous mask he donned, he was impossible to miss.
Jill smirked to herself. There was no way Elwin chose such gawdy elegance himself. It was either the Shield's collective decision that he be constantly noticeable, or Anabella had taken the reigns of his costume. Or perhaps it was a combination of both. Either way, Jill steered clear of them, lest one of them be more apt to recognize her.
She pushed her way through, eagerly awaiting the moment she could blend into the crowd and let her dress flare out as the music swelled. She couldn't wait to spin in time with the orchestra whose booms echoed off the walls. She couldn't wait to--
"May I have this dance?"
Jill spun to see some extremely tall man hovering over her with his hand extended.
"Only," he continued, "You're the most beautiful one here tonight, and I'd be honored."
She laughed. "You cannot even see my face!"
"But your body is..." the man trailed off and looked her over.
Jill retreated, shaking her head no as she laughed her way into the crowd. Never was she allowed to turn down a dance from a suitor lest she face the wrath of Anabella over the shame her rudeness brought.
She let go of her train and spun into the crowd of fellow dancers, avoiding couples and staying in the back with the others who simply wanted to move to the beat rather than perform the expected choreographed dance every noble knew. Instead, she moved and swayed with the woman beside her, both laughing at the excitement and jovial music that played.
And then, something bumped her, and sent her stumbling forward.
She spun around, clutching her skirts so she didn't trip, and her eyes widened at the sight of the great phoenix mask before her. A mop of strawberry blonde hair whipped in her direction. "Oh!" he cried. "My Lady, forgive me! I was not watching where I was going!"
"It's alright," Jill all but whispered so Joshua wouldn't hear her voice, not that one could hear anything over the music.
And just like that, without a second look, Joshua was gone back into the crowd. Jill saw Sir Wade close behind Joshua, following silently in his shadow, like all the Shields would do for the ducal family tonight.
And though Jill was not a part of the official family, she knew that if one of the Shields spotted her, they'd be on her the rest of the night as well.
The very thought made the hair at the back of her neck stand up, and she looked around the crowd in front of her. An endless sea of color was awash in front of her, but aside from the passing glance of a Shield, who was practically in uniform with a mask on, she could recognize no one.
She stepped back into the crowd.
And straight into someone.
"I'm so sorry!" she said, spinning to face her victim.
She was met by a man in a costume like burnt embers still flaming in the light. Tightly hugged over a broad chest, the outfit left little to imagine by way of the man's musculature, and his tight pants left little for her to wonder about too, though her eyes quickly darted up to his face. A demonic creature, some sort of horned beast of fire, sat in front of his face at the bridge of his nose, horns sticking straight above slicked back black hair. His arms were crossed, his leg jutting out ever so slightly. And she stared into those piercing blue eyes, surrounded beneath the mask by black kohl.
Oh.
Oh.
He looked handsome tonight.
Well, always, to Jill. But no mask could conceal Clive Rosfield from her. She knew him too well, from his stance, to his voice, to the lines on the palm of his hand.
Of course Clive would be near. Joshua had just passed through. Jill expected a polite acknowledgement from Clive before he made move to follow Joshua and Wade.
But instead, he stood there, watching her, his lips twitching up ever so slightly. It warmed her face immensely, and it covered her with goosebumps all at once.
"The fault was my own, My Lady," he said after a long pause. "Forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive."
They returned to another long moment of endlessly staring at one another. Jill wondered if Clive knew who she was, or simply was taken by her as a stranger. Either way, the way his blue eyes focused beneath his mask left her burning and itching to reach out.
"Have you been here long, My Lady?" he asked, again, the first to break their long pause. Gods, Clive couldn't disguise the telltale cadence of his tone nor the regality of his accent if he tried. He was so recognizable to her that she wondered how he was not being swarmed with a crowd all his own. The Rosfield boys were known for their availability amongst suitors, among other things.
"Not terribly long. I did spend rather a while at the buffet table."
Clive laughed and grabbed nervously at his neck. Jill noticed a long black cape attached to the back of his outfit. He nodded to himself and took a breath. "Well, if you're not too full, that is, would My Lady care terribly for a dance?"
"A dance?" Jill repeated, staring in the direction Joshua had gone. This... was Clive, right? Should ne not be following Joshua?
"I... I think... yes?"
"So confident, My Lady," he chuckled. "You can say no. I won't be offended."
"No." Jill froze. "No! I meant..." she rolled her eyes beneath her mask. "Sorry. I meant yes, I'll dance with you."
"Where to?" he asked, holding his arm out to her. "Care for the choreographed dances or no?"
The music ended and she clapped before taking Clive's arm. The music slowed and she felt herself suddenly a million times warmer. "I rather dislike those for slower songs."
He led her away from the crowd and pulled her a respectable distance away from him so he might hold her. His hand slid into hers, and his other rested on her shoulderblade. Her skin was on fire in every place that they met, and she found her fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt anxiously, desperate for more contact when she settled into the crook of his bicep.
Clive must have sensed her nerves because his grip on her tightened and he moved a hair closer. "Tonight it is fitting that we dance through the longest and darkest night under the bright light of stars. Metia smiles on us all even when the moon hides her face."
"Metia grants wishes and prayers," Jill said dumbly. Of course Clive knew that.
"Have your prayers been answered, then?" he asked, brow quirking his mask up slightly.
"Some of them."
"Not all?"
"No. Not all."
They spun silently for a while in time with the music, Jill's tension loosening as the music went along. Clive's eyes didn't move from her, and she foung herself wanting to stare back into his, but fought to demurely look away, as she'd always been taught.
"You look beautiful. Your outfit is..." he cleared his throat and more firmly, resolution taking over, repeated, "You're beautiful."
Jill's steps faltered and she stepped straight onto Clive's foot.
Clive's hands fell from her and he started to laugh as he hopped on one foot. "I can think of other ways you could have rejected the compliment, My Lady."
"I'm so sorry!" Jill gasped, covering her mouth! "I was taken aback! Founder, are you alright?"
"I am," he snorted, grabbing Jill's elbow as she reached for him in concern. "Though My Lady has quite the power behind her, I've taken worse hits. Not much, but slightly. Though perhaps that was the hardest to my ego."
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Truly!"
"I'm sure you didn't," he laughed. "It's alright. I've never known you to be quite vengeful towards me."
Jill smirked devilishly. "Oh? You know me, do you, My Lord? Is my mask not enough to hide my face?"
He froze for a moment and then smiled. "Such beauty cannot be hidden by a mask." He held his hand back out to her. "But no, My Lady, I've no clue who you are."
Jill stepped closer into Clive's arms, retaking their dancing stance, though much closer. Arms bent, Jill could whisper and Clive would hear it. "Have you heard the latest, My Lord?" she asked, refusing to acknowledge his compliment, for she didn't know what to do with it. "The servants are positively ravenous to get a look at the Archduke's sons. The younger ones are hoping to see Lord Rosfield, and the older of them are quite enthralled to see the Lord Marquess in his costume, whatever it may be."
Her eyes darted up to his. He was smiling through them. "Oh, are they, now?"
"Yes, they're all quite eager."
"And you?"
"And I what?"
Clive leaned closer, shared breath passed between them. "Are you eager to see the Lord Marquess's costume as well?"
Her heart fluttered, and she took a step closer. "I am, rather."
His fingers loosened, his hands sliding along her arms until he could wrap his fingers between hers. "What do you think he'll wear?"
Her eyes ran along his clothes that glistened like the pouring molten lava from the ashes of a volcano. "Fire."
"Have you heard the rumors?" Clive asked, the two of them barely swaying. "That the Princess of the North watches the Marquess every morning from her window as he trains?" Jill's eyes widened beneath her mask, but Clive continued. "And the Marquess waits to see her appear and lean her head against the sill. And he trains all that much harder because he knows the Northern Princess is watching him?"
"Does he?"
"So the rumors go."
Jill's lips parted, and she struggled to find air to gasp in as she fought for breath. "And what else do they say?"
One of Clive's hands left hers so it could caress her cheek. "That he chose something to wear tonight that he thought she might like."
Jill's free hand pressed against Clive's chest, feeling his racing heart. "I think she would like anything he does or wears. I think the Northern Princess believes the Marquess is rather perfect no matter what."
"Does she?"
"So the rumors go."
Jill leaned forward, lips near to grazing his before pulling away, suddenly conscious of everyone around them. "Why are you here and not with Joshua?" She let the act fall for the sake of her curiosity.
"I found you and asked Wade to take over Joshua for the night. I'm watching over you, now."
"How did you find me?"
"You're impossible to miss, My Lady."
"Am I really? I'd hoped to blend in." Jill's face fell, but Clive's hand tightened in hers.
"Well, to me. You're impossible to miss... to me."
Jill flushed even brighter red than before. "My Lord," she said, needing to take a breather from Clive's attentiveness. "You're rather forward for someone I just met."
His lips twitched up. "Forgive me, My Lady. I was getting ahead of myself. Only, I feel I've known you for years."
"If you feel such a way," she said, closing the distance between them, once again forgetting about the crowd around them. "Why have you said nothing sooner?"
"I was not sure if My Lady would feel the same. Anonymity has gifted me courage."
"Your Lady has always felt the same, My Lord."
Jill could feel Clive suck in a harsh breath and refuse to let it out for several long seconds. He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist, lips lingering hot as fire against her. "My Lady."
Clive pressed his other hand against the back of Jill's neck, sliding beneath the bun of her hair, and moved to close the final gap between their mouths.
Only for their masks to bump together and prevent them.
Jill's eyes shot open and she tried to tilt herself forward, blocked by the depth of Clive's mask and her own touching.
They both began to laugh.
"Of course," Clive snorted out.
"Come on, My Lord," Jill whispered, pulling his hand as she led him from the crowded room. The crowd thinned the closer they got to the door, and Jill found herself able to breathe again. The ballroom was so crowded, it was stuffy, but out in the hall where there were only a few minglers, the air grew lighter. But Jill pulled him further still until they slipped onto the balcony. Jill pulled him towards her. "May I?"
Clive didn't need words to know what she wanted. He bent down for her and she began unknotting the mask from behind his head. When the horns were firmly in her grip, and she had the horns firmly in her hands, Jill smiled. Clive looked particularly boyish when he wore his silly grin, one of pure excitement; being with her was elating him so much that he couldn't help but look ridiculously happy.
Jill pressed her hand over her heart and feigned shock. "My Lord Marquess! It was you beneath this mask the whole time?"
"Surprise," he murmured, unable to go along with her shock much further as he pulled her by the waist to meet him, and their lips finally sealed together.
Jill dropped his mask.
Eager was one word for it. Never had Jill felt such a pull towards another human being in such a physical way. Her hands roamed over him, unable to get enough, seeking out his neck so she could feel just a small stretch of skin. She ran her fingers through his hair and listened to him moan into her mouth, which led her to whine in return. They were slow and paced at first, then frantic and desperate, stumbling backwards until Clive's back hit the wall and he and Jill could devour each other. It was perfection in its imperfection, beauty in the way they stumbled up to the final point. Jill couldn't break away, couldn't capture enough of his lips, didn't want to breathe when he'd stolen the air from her lungs. She wanted to breathe in nothing but Clive, to feel nothing but Clive. And from the way he was reacting, he felt much the same.
"And when you're done with the guests, I'd like..."
Jill and Clive broke apart at the sound of a voice fast approaching them, but it was too late. Joshua and Wade turned onto the balcony. Jill ducked behind Clive before anyone could see too well who she was, and she grabbed Clive's arm.
"Joshua!" Clive gasped.
"Clive Rosfield!" Joshua boomed, looking less like a teenager and more like an enraged parent. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm..."
"No, don't answer that! I saw exactly what you were doing!" Joshua sounded exasperated. "What would Jill think?"
Jill stiffened, as did Clive.
"Jill?"
Joshua let out a long groan. "Have you no eyes, Brother? Or perhaps no brains! You're mad for her, yet you're with this... this... forgive me, My Lady, I shouldn't say such things in front of you."
"Joshua..." Clive tried, reaching behind him to grab at Jill desperately.
"No, I don't want to hear it! I thought I had a smart brother, but he's only a moron, like so many others."
"Joshua, be reasonable... what if Jill didn't feel the same?"
Jill rolled her eyes.
And Joshua ignored him completely. "You've endangered this woman as well, Clive! You know that a woman's reputation is worth much more than a man's, yet you steel out here into the night to ruin her?"
"Will you help me?" Clive muttered. Jill pressed her hands firmly into Clive's back in response.
"And yet," Joshua continued, "You, as my elder brother, should be setting an example for me. How many prospects have I avoided tonight? I wore this ridiculous mask because the Phoenix must be seen in the crowd, and you have the chance to be totally and completely anonymous, yet you waste it. Poor Jill is probably in there all alone because you're out here with... someone else! You love her! Go in there! What's wrong with you? Or... better yet, stay out here! She deserves better than a man who would throw himself at another woman because he can't handle the pressure of being in love."
"Will you please?" Clive tried again.
This time, Jill stepped out, untying the strings of her mask and lowering it. "Thank you for coming to my defense, Joshua."
"Jill?"
"Clive and I met up inside by chance so we... came out here to be alone."
Joshua's eyes flickered to the red faced duo, as though they'd been caught doing something terribly shameful, they hung their heads.
"Oh. About what I said..."
"I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Joshua. Thank you for defending my honor."
Joshua went to speak again, but Sir Wade grabbed his shoulder. "Let's... give them some privacy, what say you, My Lord?"
"Yes, quite well." Joshua backed up and nodded to the both of them as he closed the balcony doors.
"Where were we?" Clive said, too fast, too eager.
Jill spun on her heel. "He seemed very adamant that you're in love with me, My Lord."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about. You know him." Clive laughed, his voice cracking as he grabbed at the back of his neck.
"Oh, you don't love me, then?"
"No, I do! I mean... I... I..."
A smile broke out across Jill's face as she watched him trip and stumble over words she wasn't even sure he knew he was saying. "It's alright; I'm teasing you!"
"Oh!" Clive chuckled nervously. "Okay."
Jill ran her hand along his cheek. "You are something, Clive. Now, where were we?"
And for the rest of the night, there was no more need of disguises, for neither of them returned to the ballroom again.