"oooh 34 + rilaya !"
34: meeting at a masquerade ball
i changed it just a tiny little bit but they're still technically meeting at a masquerade ball so
disclaimed
...
So technically Maya shouldn't be here. Technically she should be back in the kitchens, helping her mother and the other kitchen staff. Technically she's broken a handful of laws in order to afford this dress and these shoes and the mask—dear god the mask, which was the actual most important part to this whole crash the royal masquerade ball plan, cost more money than Maya ever wanted to think about.
Feeling exceptionally guilty, Maya fidgets with a loose thread on her dress. This was a stupid idea, she thinks. What the actual fuck was I thinking?
"Announcing the entrance of Her Royal Highness Princess Riley, Heir to the Throne of Antiquitus," the herald crows after the initial trumpet blasts.
Right. That's why.
There's a beat; the entire ball has come to a halt, attendees all turning to watch their future queen descend the stairs and dazzle them.
Another beat. The crowd begins to buzz and the security teams posted at every door begin looking around nervously. Maya watches as a little messy haired boy runs out in his pajamas. Prince August's bedtime, Maya knows, was an hour ago; the Queen, from her throne across the room, looks affectionately exasperated. The prince tugs on the herald's coat, waiting patiently for the older man to lean down for him to whisper in his ear. Nodding, the herald straightens.
"It is with her deepest regrets," he announces, "that Her Royal Highness announces her absence from this evening's festivities, due to her feeling a bit under the weather." A group of young men to the right of Maya—suitors for the princess, no doubt—they heave a collective sigh of disappointment.
Maya can't help but join them, albeit a bit quieter.
This was sort of it for her, you know? She can't pull a stunt like this again, even if the King and Queen would host another masquerade; even if they did and she managed to find some time to sneak away, there's no way Maya'd get away with wearing the same dress without someone recognizing her as an interloper.
Maya's about to call it quits and go change in order to help her mom out a little, when suddenly there are hands blocking what little vision her mask allows.
"Guess who?" a familiar voice hums sweetly, breath fanning across Maya's shoulder.
Twisting to face her, Maya grins when she's greeted with a sorely missed face—or what little face the mask allows to be seen. At the very least, she can see her eyes, bright and twinkling under the glittering lights of the ballroom, and she can see her smile, wide and blinding. She pulls Maya into a tight embrace, one that Maya returns gratefully.
"Hey honey," Maya murmurs into the juncture of Riley's shoulder. She's careful not to use her name or call her princess mockingly, though that is generally how she greets her, right before getting dragged into some hidey hole in the palace for some good old fashioned clandestine making out. But this is different, aside from the fact that Riley is currently avoiding about half of the continent's reigning families.
Riley pulls away a little bit to admire Maya's get up, even going so far as to let out a little gasp. "Peaches," she says, pulling her close again. "You look beautiful."
They're starting to draw a little attention from the groups around them, so Maya gently maneuvers them over to the side, in a shadowed corner of the ballroom. "I try." She shrugs. "It's just a gift, I guess."
A natural gift and about four weeks of under the table work at the pub. But that's a story for another time.
Riley rakes her eyes over Maya once more, humming her approval before stealing a kiss. When she pulls away, Maya murmurs, "You're not so bad yourself, especially for someone feeling a bit under the weather." She's teasing, but there's a question there too.
Rolling her eyes, Riley huffs, "It's a solid excuse." Just as Maya's about to argue with her, about to give her a hundred better excuses for next times that might not even happen, Riley adds, "My parents wanted me to spend time with the suitors the High Families sent."
That sobers her up.
"Already?" They're only seventeen, and Riley's just barely. Maya's heart finds a home in her feet; she pulls Riley even closer, like that could anchor her and keep this all at bay.
Riley nods. "Things have been tense on the border. They want to ensure we have the promise of support, at the very least." Her voice is doing that thing where everything she says sounds normal, but it wavers on the last word.
Maya feels a little sick, because this is normally where she'd promise that everything is going to be fine, that they'd get through this together. But this is sort of the one thing she can't magically fix for her girl. Riley's ever progressing march towards the age of majority is constantly at the back of her mind these days; on her seventeenth birthday, the Palace had announced they would begin screening suitors and Maya's heart very nearly broke.
Riley's already older than most princesses are at the time of a betrothal; Maya wishes that she was of the status where it wouldn't be completely insane for her to throw her hat in the ring.
It's bad enough that she's not really the right gender for a suitor, though Riley's pushing for reformation. Her rank just makes it laughable that she would ever even consider herself a viable candidate.
Riley seems to read her mind and brings her hands up to cup Maya's face. "This isn't on you at all," she promises. "Parliament wants Auggie as heir anyway, so no matter what I try to do, we'll be fucked." She wrinkles her nose.
"Trying out curses?"
"I thought I'd try to expand my vocabulary. I don't like it very much."
"Well," Maya sighs. "I can swear enough for the both of us. It's part of my charm." She smiles cheesily up at Riley, her stumbling attempt at lightening the mood. It does what she intends though, because soon she's being graced with a cheesy grin in return.
They've got some really shitty things to worry about soon, Maya knows. But she also knows that this may be her only chance to dance with her girl in a room full of impeccably dressed people who all think that they're just some run of the mill ladies of the court, enjoying the night unburdened and unashamed.
So she regretfully pulls away from Riley, just long enough to gently tug her onto the dance floor before pulling her close once more.
Whatever storm is coming, she knows at the very least that they'll weather it together.