// These characters belong to Tamora Pierce. The plot and OCs belong to me : )
// This chapter contains slash and a swear word.
Fairy Tale
Waltz
She wasn't human. She couldn't be. No mortal woman could have such flawless creamy skin the pallor of ivory, or such luscious, perfectly curved lips the velvety texture of rose petals. She must have been an elven maid to possess that fine head of soft white down, brushing the tips of finely curved eyebrows and baby blue eyes, braided about her head like a crown, and left to twist and fall down her back like white velvet snakes. Who but a nymph could look simultaneously like a thing of nature yet wholly otherwordly in a gown of the palest spring green, wide silk sleeves elegantly flaring, neckline of the shoulderless garment embroidered in tiny delicate silver flowers. The dress narrowed at her slender waist, tied by a velvet dark green ribbon, and the hem of the skirt tapered into layers of thin wispy fabric at her dainty ankles to reveal two feet clad in white slippers. A choker in black velvet encircled her pale throat like a collar. No human girl could possibly look so deliciously divine.
But a human boy...maybe.
"They're staring," whispered Joren, clinging to Laurent's arm as the couple entered the crowded ballroom.
"I know," Laurent whispered back smugly, wrapping his arm around Joren's waist more tightly, smirking at the jealous murmurs the gesture produced. A blush rose to Joren's already made-up face but he refrained from wriggling, as he didn't recognize any faces.
"Laurent, my dear prince!" An elderly man holding a champagne glass in one hand and a trophy wife in the other approached. King Jonathan, at the back of the room beside the punchbowl, had stood up to say something; the guests withdrew their attention from the stunning couple. The man, Duke something or other, drew Laurent into a conversation Joren ignored in favor of looking at the ballroom's extraordinary decor until he heard the topic turn to him.
"I must say, your companion is a most stunning young creature," the duke remarked. "And what might her name be?"
"Ahh, I 'ave been rude. May I introduce Philippe; Philippe, this is Duke Richmonte." The man took Joren's hand and bowed, brushing his lips against it.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear," the man smiled.
"The pleasure is all mine," the boy replied, remembering in time to speak in a slightly higher tone than usual. Laurent nodded approvingly at his false Kangenese accent.
"Philippe--a Kangenese name, isn't it?" asked Duke Richmonte jovially. "But I thought it was a boy's name!"
Joren froze. "We-e-e-l-l-l-l, it i-i-s-s-s," he replied slowly, mind racing. He threw a panicked expression at Laurent, who shrugged. "I, ahh, was named after a, ehh, a--'orse! Oui, un chaval de course." *Brilliant, Philippe, where the fuck did that come from? A horse, for crying out loud?!* The duke and his wife looked puzzled.
"A racehorse?" The woman asked politely. "How fascinating."
"Ehm, oui." Joren's mind cast about wildly. He didn't know a thing about horses; his father was an expert so Joren had intentionally ignored the field. *Father has a really famous one, what's its name? Oh!* "Louis Quatorze! That is 'is name, you see," he added when the couple frowned.
"I thought his name was Philippe?" the Duke commented.
*Shit! You moron, the imaginary horse already HAD a name! What the hell are you gonna do now, eh?*
"Philippe is 'is MIDDLE name," he clarified with a dazzling smile. The couple blinked rapidly and smiled hesitantly in return. *Oh, you are brilliant,* his voice muttered.
"And how did your parents come to name you after a horse's middle name?" inquired Lady Richmonte, sipping from her champagne glass.
"Well, I, ahh," *Well, shit.* "Louis Quatorse is my father's favorite 'orse because 'e wins many races--the 'orse, not my father--" *Gods, I need some of that alcohol...* "and, and, err, my brother is named Louis! And they, ahh, did not want two children of the same name! Yes, yes. I mean oui." Duke Richmonte and his wife looked slightly dazed. Laurent's wide mouth was twisted intoa grin and he looked ready to burst into laughter at any moment.
"How very...fascinating," murmured the wife, slowly recovering.
"Yes," Laurent agreed proudly, "Philippe is always quite...entertaining." He grinned wolfishly down at Joren, who was fighting to resist the urge to slug him, and took a swallow of champagne from the glass he'd taken during Joren's discourse. Joren chose to ignore him and examine his fingernails. There was an akward silence for a moment.
The trophy wife was the first to resuem the conversation. "Your date certainly has a beautiful voice," she ventured. "It's so low and husky, almost like a boy's."
"Oh, Philippe is a boy," laughed Laurent. The couple laughed in turn.
"I'm sorry, I thought you said she was a boy!" chuckled Duke Richmonte.
"Haha, I did," chortled Laurent. "He is." The couple's laugher stopped immediately and they stared at Joren, who blushed the color of the festive crimson wall decorations.
"'e's, ahh, 'ad a bit too much to drink," he exclaimed, pulling the glass from the prince's hand, downing it in one pull and tossing it at a passing maitre'd. "Excuse moi, I must go, ahh, sober 'im up. Bon soire!" He grabbed Laurent's arm and pulled him away.
When Joren judged he'd put enough distance between themselves and the Richmontes, he whirled to face his lover. "Just what in the seven hells were you thinking?!" he hissed. Laurent leaned down to wrap Joren in a tight embrace.
"Speak in the accent again, mon cher," he whispered, breath tickling Joren's ear. "It is...enrapturing..."
"NOT here," growled Joren, pushing Laurent away. "Let's get something straight--"
"But that is no fun!" interrupted Laurent, reaching over to squeeze the boy roughly on the rump. Joren pursed his lips.
"As long as I'm dressed as a girl," he whispered sharply, "we will both pretend I am a girl. Because nobody here knows a girl who looks like this. But if they learn I'm a boy, they'll know it's me, because I am the only boy who could possibly look this good. Got it?" Laurent didn't reply, only gazed at him dreamily. Joren snapped his fingers in front of Laurent's face. "Hey! Are you listening?"
"Mm?" Laurent blinked slowly. "Were you saying something, darling Philippe? Your eyes are so breathtaking when you are angry..." he began to kiss a trail up Joren's neck. The boy's scathing retort was cut off whena tall gentleman he recalled seeing at numerous other court occasions approached.
"Good evening, your Highness," the man remarked. "I hope you are enjoying the Summer Festival Ball?"
"You 'ave no idea!" exclaimed Laurent enthusiastically. The gentleman gave a puzzled glance in Joren's direction.
"I thought I had seen you in the company of another young man? A brunette? Where might he be?"
"Another?" Laurent arched a friendly eyebrow. "You must be mistaken, this is a young lady." Joren smirked. *Ouch, looks like one of Myles' lads slipped up. Let's see how he'll recover.*
The errant spy was in luck. "Oh, there he is!" he exclaimed hastily, reaching into the crowd and pulling a harassed-looking Nealan of Queenscove out.
"Ahh, Nealan! There you are. I believe you promised me a dance?"
"But your Highness," protested Queensvoce (looking fairly handsome himself in a high-necked velvet green tunic that matched his eyes, shoulder-length hair bound in a black ribbon, and knee-high black boots), "You already have a da--" He glanced at Joren and his jaw struck the marble floor.
*This could be really fun or really humiliating,* thought Joren, and witha graceful smile blooming over his fair features decided to go for the former.
"Enchante," he whispered silkily, extending a delicate hand to Nealan, who looked torn between vomiting and drooling. As Laurent recited the introductions, Nealan lifted Joren's hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
*Fuck,* thought Nealan. *If I didn't know her true identity, Madmoiselle Philippe would be the new object of my fantasies--make that wet dreams." He gulped as the blonde withdrew his hand gently and favored Neal with a wink. *Though if he keeps this up, it may not make a difference...*
Joren smiled wickedly to himself as Laurent dragged a reluctant Queenscove onto the dance floor. *Heh. Women want me, men want me...that Rispah-woman was right. I can quit Guillaum's and take up--Hold it! What am I thinking? Eh, I need a drink. Sure hope somebody spiked the punch...*
*****
Kel had been fooled at first, but not for long. She had to admit, Joren made a spectacular girl. Totally hot. Enough to make her consider taking up lesbian tendencies, even. But there was something about the fair maiden's aristocratically bored expression, the unspoken dismissal to all who would dare approach, and the way she would stare vacantly into space as though deep in thought and then suddenly laugh--it was immistakeably Joren. But what he was doing in a dress, she had no idea.
*And do you care to explain why you've memorized all of Joren's little personality quirks?*
*Know thine enemy,* Kel thought defensively.
*Suuuuure. Know thine enemy's cute ass is more like it.*
*I'm ignoring you,* she replied coldy, and strode purposefully toward the punch bowl.
"And don't you look stunning this evening?!" she exclaimed cheerfully, helping herself to a cup of punch. "Having a good time, Joren?"
"Um, it's Philippe," the blonde replied softly, sipping his. *Is that Kel?! She looks...* His eyes trailed over the soft pink gown and slippers, the elegant pearl necklace and the Yamani chopsticks holding back her shining brown hair. She'd lost weight since he'd last teased her, and gained a few inches as well as a couple of other, ahem, things...She looked absolutely *Not bad. But how'd she know? I'm screwed...*
"Riiiiiight. Philippe. I must say, you're the most beautiful girl in the ball," she went on brightly. "Speaking of girls, why are you dressed as one?" Joren glanced around nervously; no one was within earshot. All anyone saw was two girls socializing.
"How'd you know?" he asked, lowering his voice and dropping the accent. Was it obvious? The last thing he needed was public exposure.
Kel smirked. "Wanna know? I believe you have some information I'd like as well."
"Huh?" That's right, she wanted to know if Nealan's preferences were as twisted as his mind. "So it's blackmail, eh?"
"Don't be so dramatic. So do we have a deal?"
"Sure thing. You go first."
"Sorry, Philly. I'm not that gullible."
"Fine," Joren sniffed. "You wanna know the truth? Queenscove and I aren't a couple. The only thing that whole conversation last week had to do with sex was whatever your own gutter-trash mind put in it." Kel scowled but looked relieved at the same time. "But," continued Joren, "that doesn't mean he's not fruitier than a Carthakian mango dancer. See for yourself." He pointed behind her.
Kel turned around just in time to see Laurent and Neal waltz past her, the prince's hand placed firmly over the boy's rump. The couple was garnering quite a few stares--neither looked even remotely feminine--and to hide his hotly flushing face Nealan had buried his face into the taller man's shoulder, serving to further the illusion of intimacy.
Kel turned back, face reddening. Joren smirked. "Soooo, my turn. How'd you know I was a boy, eh Mindelan?"
Kel took a breath and smiled frostily. "For a start," she ground out, "your tits are crooked." Joren gasped and looked down at his bosom. "Oh, let me help you with that!" Kel exclaimed, reaching into his gown and grabbing one of the falsies, then chucking it with the skill of a shotput expert into the center of the ballroom. "There. All fixed."
to be continued....
/*
Me: Darn Author So&So! They haven't updated in a month!!
Joren-muse: And the last time you updated was....?
Me: Uhm...
Joren-muse: *checks ff.net* Hmm, looks like August 7th. HMMM.
Me: .......*cries*
So, thank you for all of the wonderful, wonderful, wonderful reviews! I give you all collective kisses!! Special ones for The Blind Assassin, Micky, myst-of-nyte and also to the girl who emailed me! I love email. I love reviews! And I've sufficiently tortured my Joren-muse so the ideas are flowing quite nicely. Next chapter hopefully out soon! (I know, I said it last time too...hehe) */
