Princess
There was once a princess who wore no crown. She wore instead pride, grace and beauty more delicately molded than the finest of goblin silver or gold. In her veins ran pure royal blood, and she commanded a kingdom of the wealthy and privileged. She was the youngest daughter of a mighty king, the most adored and most spoilt of all three, and her name was Narcissa Persephone Black.
This was a Princess who hated to be kept waiting. But waiting she was, that evening in June, and for what she wasn't entirely decided. She could see from the balcony into the room, which was crowded and glowing with light, but the images were blurred and distorted by the beveled glass in the windows. Her sister Bella was entertaining a crowd, the darkness of her long hair and deep eyes contrasting with the pure white of her wedding gown. She made a beautiful bride. The Princess wondered idly what it must be like, for her sister to be in love. There was darkness in her as rich and sweet as chocolate and Rodolphus seemed like such a silent, strong, cold presence. The Princess could only imagine them as two colliding storms, clashing and raining down on the world with their fury. It was thrilling to think of in a forbidden way, because she knew with certainty that she'd never experience it. In her thoughts she always saw love as a soft spring rain. More beautiful in it's own peaceful, certain way than summer sun, but cool, unstoppable, and clean.
But tonight there was no clean rain, there was only the warm embrace of summer breeze wrapping around her skin as she stood outside and watched the air skim the top of the lake below. They had chosen a fitting place for the ceremony: beautiful and dark, the old castle was a solitary place. It had once belonged to a mighty king, her father told her as she sat with her head upon his shoulder, but he had been foolish. He had allowed his home to be taken from him. Now it was empty and hollow but for tonight, when the rooms were once again filled with revelers, courtiers vying for the new court's attention. But there is no prettier picture than a Princess alone, standing with her green chiffon dress robes billowing in the wind like some forgotten ghost, veiled by the moonlight and shadow, and one courtier had noticed.
He stood watching her lean over the railing, his silver eyes narrowed with cool focus. She felt his gaze as a gentle brush between her bare shoulder blades and she turned just her head to the side, watching him from the corner of her eyes. She was rather used to it. Here would be a man who saw her, so pretty and delicate, and quickly fell into a romantic daze, which she would ruthlessly shatter with a withering word. She was Narcissa Persephone Black and she was a Princess of sorts but she was not a china doll and she did not take kindly to strangers who watched her in the dark, however sweet their intentions.
The Princess leaned over the railing, looking down into the waters, just catching a glimpse of her own pale reflection. She wondered if this was the girl the stranger saw- a softened, blurry version, beautiful and sweet. She supposed he saw himself as a Prince Charming, thought it romantic that he had eyes only for her, imagined himself sweeping her off of her feet in a thoroughly dramatic fashion. But this was an illusion, a reflection of her most charming features, and she would enjoy casting the stone that would reveal the truth beneath: that she was spoiled, demanding, and disdainful, that she had no interest in his starry gaze or any pretty poetry he might have been composing in his head while he stood in silence behind her. She raised her chin, shook her hair back haughtily, and turned to impress upon him how little chance he had, but she felt a tug on her hair and heard a small isplash/i and she turned around, eyes wide and horrified, to see the priceless hair comb her mother had slipped carefully into her golden curls sinking below, into the dark depths of the water, goblin moonstones and emeralds twinkling pathetically one last time.
Her hands flew to her mouth and she let out an anguished whimper. She had no wand on her, having no place to put in in the elaborate dress, and the thought of climbing below and wading into the water after it was laughable. She was not a dirty peasant; her mother would murder her twice if she even knew her daughter had thought of it. Her father would be equally horrified, and Bella would never let her hear the end of it. But she had little other choice, and she turned with a soft sigh to find her sister but was stopped by the sight of the admiring stranger, all but forgotten, standing just a few feet away.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked her in a cool, polite tone. He was standing in a patch of moonlight now, white-blonde hair shining, and he raised an eyebrow at her in a rather arrogant fashion.
"Nothing," she said, moving to brush past him, but he boldly caught her by the elbow, and she whipped her head around in indignant surprise more than anything.
"Forgive my presumption," he apologized smoothly, letting go of her at once. "But I couldn't help but notice you might be in need of assistance." He pulled his jacket back with one hand and withdrew a wand, holding it loosely between his fingers as though he were teasing her. He was several years older than she, and his voice was a clipped baritone that spoke of good breeding. The Princess supposed he was the son of some wedding guest, perhaps a business associate of her father's, but no one very important or surely he would have been inside with the other guests, not standing on a dark balcony with his tie undone. Still, he had a wand, and he would save her having to tear her sister away from her own wedding reception.
"I've dropped something in the water," she explained, turning back to the railing and indicating the place. "I don't have my wand with me."
"That was rather careless of you," he observed, and she breathed in sharply at his rudeness. She wondered whether he really knew who she was, or if he simply thought her another pretty bridesmaid. Surely he wouldn't speak to her that way if he was aware of her family. She raised her chin with a dignified air.
"I would be grateful if you would retrieve it for me," she replied coolly, ignoring his shocking statement. Now that her hair was free it was beginning to blow into her face with the breeze, and it was significantly more difficult to look dignified and contemptuous with curls falling into her eyes in whispy strands.
"And what should I get in return, if I do you this favor?" he inquired, and again, she was taken aback by his daring. He was unusual, this young man with his assured air and uncompromising gaze. Unusual, but not in an admirable way. Rather, he stoked her considerable temper. She was not one to be trifled with, this Princess.
"The pleasure of my thanks," she said witheringly, not afraid of offending him. Why should she be? She was a Princess and he an insignificant creature, one whose touch offended her, unimportant and small. A mouse compared to the lion that was her father and her family- no, something more unpleasant. A frog.
"While it's a tempting offer, I feel your situation puts me at an advantage in negotiations. So I think I'll ask for something a little more substantial. A dance, perhaps?" the frog suggested, tilting his head toward the window and the inside, where music played merrily. She opened her mouth to deliver a swift and crushing retort but she thought better of it. She needed his assistance, there was no doubt of that. A promise made to this man of little respect and plentiful daring meant nothing.
"As you wish," she agreed, with a careful glance down, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks demurely and hiding the sweet calculation in her eyes. He eyed her for a moment longer, then turned to the railing and placed one hand on the weathered stone, muttering the spell that would retrieve her treasure under his breath. It rose from the water swiftly, trailing diamond-bright drops behind it, and he reached out with one hand and caught it deftly before turning back to her.
"Yours," he said simply, slipping it into her palm. She had expected, for the smallest of seconds, that he would try to replace it himself. It seemed like such an obvious gesture, the kind of clumsily done, over-thought thing she detested but always seemed to encounter from too-eager gentlemen. But he did nothing of the sort and she turned from him and slid it back into her hair, securing it behind one ear with a delicate touch.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder and still he watched her, looking as smoothly polished as well-shined silver. He had confidence, she would allow him that one small compliment. Generally she'd have intimidated most suitors by now. And he seemed gentlemanly enough despite his boldness. She wondered whether it would really be so unpleasant, to give him one dance. He may be only an insignificant frog but he was interesting, at the very least, and not unpleasant to look at, though she would offer no further observation than that. But allowing him a dance now would be tantamount to a submission, after his less than respectful tone, and she, a Princess, never submitted to anyone- least of all a Frog in prince's dress robes, thinking himself debonair.
She gifted him with a glance over her shoulder when she walked carelessly away.
The Princess never did seem to get her happy ending. She kept waiting for true love to arrive in regal style and fulfill her every wish, but she supposed that the problem lay in the fact that she had no idea what she was supposed to wish for. She had seen romance, seen charm and caring and gentleness, and it was always much the same. What she desired above all was intrigue; she could have no interest in anything unless it she found it challenging or fresh. She was a Princess and she had the command of a hundred men- well, a hundred of her father's employees- at her every whim, and she did not need another loyal subject.
She supposed what she needed was in fact a Prince. She would know him when he arrived, of that she was sure. He would be unique.
But it was not her turn yet. For now her sister, the other Princess in the Black family tree, the other beloved sister- quite distinguished from the outcast about whom no one spoke- was celebrating the beginning of her happily ever after, the first day of the rest of her life. Rodolphus graciously offered a dance, as was tradition, and she accepted, and they spent a moment twirling across the floor. She had never had a brother before, and she was not sure whether she would ever think of Rodolphus that way. He was strong and quiet and, though he was charming, there seemed always to be a thin layer of glass between him and the rest of the world, one that was invisible but clearly felt. He was very much removed from the universe in which Narcissa lived, the one with glamorous parties and good dress robes and fine wines. He lived in it but it did not live in him.
When he released her she was caught again by the son of another of father's friends, a rather dull boy whose feet moved like lead, and then again by one of the groomsmen, who smiled and danced well and complimented her and continually pulled her unwillingly closer, so that she was rather overwhelmed with his cologne and quite uncomfortable. But this was her duty, her role for the evening, and she played it well. She was charming. Until, of course, she turned after another dance, thinking to get herself a glass of water, and found herself facing none other than the persistent Frog whom she had abandoned so unceremoniously on the balcony.
"Madame," he said to her, taking her hand with impunity and pulling her to the side, out of the path of other dancers. "I believe you owe me a favor."
"I owe you nothing," she disagreed coldly, tearing her hand free of his easily, as his grip was gentle. "A gentleman would not require payment from a lady in need of service."
He seemed undeterred even as she attempted to slip away from him, but nor did he seem upset or angered by her dismissal and she was unwillingly impressed by it. He was still cool and unruffled, as though playing a rather uninteresting sport, one that he intended to win but did not find particularly challenging. But he behaved and spoke as though he were entitled to her attention and that she found inexpressibly irritating. He was a Frog and she a Princess and he was entitled to nothing from her.
Again, he caught her arm and again, she was turned around merely by the shock of it and found herself quite close to him. He was much taller than she and in the light she could better appreciate that he was handsome; his jaw sharply cut and his eyes burning silver and his shoulders held proudly back. The light, too, revealed even better the arrogance that seemed to glow from him like a candle's light. She was unaccustomed to a foe more haughty even than she. In fact, she was rather intrigued by him, this Frog who seemed so proud, this man who would not be dismissed by a Princess. But hers and his were worlds that were not meant to mix. To touch, yes, to encounter and brush past, but even within the court of the Pureblood elite, there were classes of people distinctly separate. She was a Princess. She didn't know what this man was other than excessively confident.
"Release me," she ordered him firmly, and she was almost surprised when he did so at once, looking politely abashed.
"I meant no offense," he apologized, nodding his head at her. He opened his mouth to continue but it was at that moment that directly behind him she saw her father and brushed quickly by the Frog, seeking the salvation of the King's protection. He looked up as she approached and his shrewd face broadened into a smile, for the King, while sly and quick with a wand, had nothing but adoration for his daughters- when they obeyed him.
"Father," Narcissa said sweetly, and he embraced her, planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Are you having a wonderful time, Narcissa?" he asked, and she nodded, at the same time glancing behind her to see if the Frog had followed. He had not, but had turned around and was watching with a rather shrewd, amused expression. "My youngest, Narcissa," the King introduced her to the man with whom he had been speaking, and Narcissa gracefully offered her hand.
"A beautiful ceremony," the man complimented, and the Princess nodded her thanks on behalf of her family. "I look forward to attending another in the future, no?"
"I've no doubt," said her father. "Two daughters too beautiful for their own good, it's quite a handful. Someday I'll be able to leave the job to their husbands and retire!"
The men both laughed and the Princess smiled, her arm looped through her fathers. But her father's eyes widened when he looked down again, and Narcissa turned her head to see, to her dismay, the Frog had approached from behind her and was standing there with an expectant expression.
"Excuse me gentlemen, but I hope you won't mind my interruption to ask for a dance from your lovely daughter," he said, in tones much more respectful than he had used with her. Narcissa tried to squeeze her father's hand but it was too late, he was nodding enthusiastically.
"Of course, of course," he said, his eyes rather bright and excited. "Narcissa," he prompted her, withdrawing his arm from hers and subtly pushing her forward.
"Father-" she began quietly, turning back to him, but he shook his head at her firmly and ducked to whisper in her ear.
"Dance with him, Narcissa. Do as I say," he said, and she could tell from his tone that there would be no argument. She suppressed a sigh and turned back to the Frog, who was watching her with mocking politeness. He offered her his arm and she took it, smoothing a disappointed pout from her face. It would not do to act childishly.
"Foiled again," he said under his breath to her, and she bit back a smile with surprise. She had not expected to be amused.
"I will admit that you are unexpectedly persistent," she said coolly back to him, and he let out a dry chuckle.
"Your generosity is astounding," he replied, and this time she almost laughed aloud. She was not used to being confronted for her contemptuous words. He had lead her to the dance floor now and he turned her around carefully, placing a hand very deliberately on her waist and taking her other in his.
He was a very smooth dancer, displaying no hint of effort as he spun her gracefully, nor did he treat her as a breakable thing in his arms as some men were wont to do, rather, he was firm but not overbearing in his lead and she found to her surprise that she enjoyed it. It was almost a waste, she thought, for such a man of obvious potential to be so very far below her status. He made for interesting company, infuriating though he could be, far more interesting than some of the men who would be considered more suitable for her to admire. But a Princess did not spare her time for a Frog no matter how intriguing he was. He would receive one dance from her and could consider himself blessed.
"What is your name?" the Princess asked him after a moment, realizing that she still did not know- not that it mattered, particularly.
"You may think of me simply as an appreciative observer," he suggested, and she raised an eyebrow. He did not want to give her his name and it looked as though he were amused at withholding the information, as though enjoying a private joke. "I am acquainted with your sister's new husband. We have similar friends," he added after a moment's pause.
This was a deeper mystery. She wondered what exactly he meant by it, but she supposed she could always ask Rodolphus later- if she retained any interest, that is, which she doubted she would. "And why, pray tell, are you so very interested in a dance with me?" she asked him with more intrigue than she meant to.
"I enjoy a challenge," he admitted, and then laughed when she looked indignantly up at him. "Don't mistake me," he assured her, "I'd have gotten bored several minutes ago if you didn't prove a worthy subject."
At that, she stepped away from him. Conveniently they had drifted into a rather uninhabited corner, so that she was able to step back, away from the dance floor, between two columns, and be relatively unseen by the rest of the party.
"I will not be treated as sport," she said sharply, as he followed after her, no longer looking amused.
"Won't you?" he said, quirking an eyebrow at her in a particularly irritating fashion. "You're content to treat everyone else as such, why shouldn't I play your game?"
"My family is-" she began heatedly, but he interrupted her.
"Oh yes, your family is powerful and old, you're a veritable Princess," he acknowledged, nodding at her. "You could probably have me shunned for offending you," he added, and at this he laughed, again as though something were ironic, though what she couldn't imagine. "But don't be offended, Princess, you see I meant only that you were far more intriguing a companion than any of your fellow ladies present. In fact it's quite worth it to continue wounding your ladylike sensibilities simply to watch you think of still more graceful ways to insult me but I must admit I'm running short of things to say to you that will come off as only mildly improper and so I think I'd like to finish my dance now," he commented, and took her hand once more, this time pulling her by the waist back to him, and she found herself quite breathless at the force of it. But she could hardly allow him to treat her as such, she was not a woman to be trifled with without consequences and so without thinking she pushed him back, harder than she meant to, and his back hit the stone wall behind him.
His eyes widened with surprise and she was quite shocked at her own behavior. She remained where she was, biting her lip in uncharacteristic indecision, wondering if she should apologize. But no, he was a pond Frog, nothing, meaningless and rude. Why should she apologize for her behavior? She was entitled to rudeness. This time, however, she felt strangely regretful of it.
She opened her mouth but before she could speak she was cut off by a voice from behind. Rodolphus had chanced upon them and he looked unusually excited.
"Lucius!" he said, striding toward the Frog and shaking his hand firmly. "I've been looking for you, come and have a drink?"
"Rodolphus," Lucius nodded at him. "I've just been making friends with your charming sister-in-law," he remarked, turning to Narcissa, who could not stop the slow blush that spread over her cheeks. Rodolphus turned to her and nodded.
"I'm pleased you've met," he said, and she smiled as sweetly as she could. "Lucius Malfoy and I are business associates," he explained.
"Of a sort," Lucius added, and Rodolphus raised an eyebrow at him before they both turned and walked away with a nod at her, already in conversation about something else.
A Malfoy. She had insulted a Malfoy. The entire time she had thought him nothing, a pest, a Frog, and he was a Prince if there ever was one, perhaps more royalty than she herself. Small wonder her father had been so eager for her to dance with him! And he was so confident, so proud, how had she not known? Her hands flew to her mouth and she bit back a tiny moan. Her father would shun her if he knew how rude she had been to him. But worse, she had been so dismissive, so uncompromisingly cold, and he was a rare man who had ever intrigued her beyond a few minutes conversation, and a iMalfoy/i. She was a Princess and she had unwittingly turned away a Prince.
She stood tall and shook back her blonde curls. There was nothing to be done, she had made the mistake already and she could not take it back, even if the memory of his shocked expression when she had pushed him away made her cheeks burn with mortification. He should have told her who he was, why had he kept it such a secret? She had been humiliated and he had won his little game and she was sure he would not be so interested in her any more, not now that she had shown him her very coldest side, the sharp and uncompromising tongue which she used for those beneath her.
She glanced up, her chin up automatically, preserving her dignity as best she could. She could see them moving through the crowd, Rodolphus dark as Lucius was light. She watched them go, forced herself to watch as punishment for her crimes. Near the center of the hall they paused, Rodolphus was speaking to someone. As she watched, Lucius's head turned and his gaze roved around until he found her, still standing between the two pillars. He really was handsome, she thought regrettably. He raised an eyebrow at her and she felt a genuine smile crossing her face, an embarrassed warmth, a rare acknowledgment of her silly folly.
He winked.