AN: Well hey all! Long time no see. Sorry for the super long month delay. Between the worst work schedule I've seen in ever and being busy and having the most severe case of writers block I've ever seen...the words just haven't been flowing. This is the first real thing I've written in nearly a month. It's a little rough but don't loose faith, next chapter will be stronger, hopefully.
Anyway. Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad someone is liking this. Enjoy.
Chapter 6
With the sun shining high in the sky and the ground covered in glistening snow, the castle doesn't seem nearly as intimidating as it has before. Brittany slides her hands up Philippe's neck, twisting them in his mane to try and keep her fingers warm. She shivers and leans against the horse, humming softly.
It feels nice to be outside, even if it is frigid. She releases the mane and pulls the riding cloak Quinn gave her tighter around her shoulders. Luckily for Brittany, the wind isn't blowing.
"Come on pony," she says softly, taking a few steps forward. It's a bit harder work, pushing through the snow, especially in her dress. Philippe follows, trailing behind in Brittany's footprints.
She stops trudging through the snow when she's disappeared around the side of the castle, where the gardens are. The flowers are drooping under the heavy snow and the pathway through the maze of plants is covered with untouched snow. Brittany exhales, watching the way her breath billows like smoke in front of her.
She frowns at the snow. Two days ago the weather was lovely; sunny and warm, she had laid outside cloud gazing and now it is so cold she can barely feel her feet.
/
Santana watches Brittany wade through the snow from her balcony. She's too far away to make out more than an outline, but Santana is almost positive she can see every single line of Brittany; her soft hands that touched her own so gently last night, her cheeks, tinged pink by the cold, her eyes a lighter blue than they were in the firelight.
"Santana?"
Santana's body jolts slightly, heat rushing to her face. "Rachel?"
"I didn't mean to startle you," Rachel says quickly, stepping onto the balcony.
"You didn't. What do you want?" Santana stays facing the grounds, but averts her eyes from Brittany figure.
"Brittany," Rachel begins.
"Is outside. I see that," Santana says, slowly. Her eyes fall back to Brittany, who turns around. Santana takes a step backwards and pulls the hood of her cloak over her head.
"Is that...okay?" Rachel asks quietly.
Santana stays for a moment, watching Brittany search the castle before turning around and moving back towards the gardens. Santana crosses her arms and turns to Rachel. "It's fine. She can do as she pleases."
Santana glares hard as Rachel's eyes scan across her face. Her pulse quickens, she flexes her hands. "What?" She barks the word at Rachel and anger flares inside of her. Brittany's words from the previous night echo in her head. She sighs. "What is it, Rachel?"
"Nothing, I just," she pauses and looks down at her hands, clasped together in front of her. She shakes her head and looks up. "Nothing."
"Alright," Santana says and forces her voice to soften.
Rachel nods once, before turning towards the door.
Santana glances back to Brittany, who is attempting to remove the snow covering the flowers. The words leave her mouth before she even knows what she's saying. "I would like to do something for her."
"I'm sorry?" Rachel asks, turning around abruptly.
Santana clears her throat. She can't decide where to look; at Brittany, at Rachel, at her feet. She settles on picking at her nails. "For Brittany. What do you think I...we could do for her?"
Rachel opens her mouth and then shuts it. She scrunches her eyebrows together and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "I don't..." She pauses and Maurice's words seep back to the forefront of her mind. "Maurice said she likes to dance."
Santana cringes at the name. She blinks a few times, trying to erase the memory of dragging him to the tower, banishing him from the castle. The way Brittany cried that night...
"Dancing," Santana repeats. She clears her throat again. "The ballroom. What state is it in?"
Rachel scoffs. "It needs a lot of work," she says, looking up at Santana.
"Well," Santana says, meeting her eyes for half a second before turning towards the balcony railing again. "Get to it, if you don't mind." Santana pauses. "Keep it a secret from her. Keep her away from it until it's ready."
Rachel feels her lips tug up into a smile. She nods her head. "Of course." She walks calmly through Santana's room and down the hall. When she's sure she's far enough away not to be heard, she breaks into a jog, wondering where exactly she can find Quinn.
/
"Rachel, there you are," Quinn says, shrugging her shoulders and making a show to roll her eyes. "I needed to talk to you."
"Yes, but you'll never believe what Santana has just told me," Rachel interrupts. She bounces on the balls of her feet.
Quinn turns back to the dough she's been kneading with her hands.
Rachel moves to Quinn's side and places a hand on her arm. "Quinn. Santana wants us to have the ballroom cleaned. For Brittany."
Quinn's hands halt above the dough. She blows a strand of hair out of her face and stares hard at Rachel, letting her eyes wander over the girls face looking for any sign that she is joking. When Rachel's face remains smiling and excited Quinn straightens and leans against the counter. She stares hard at the floor. "You don't think..."
"It's the first act of kindness that we have seen from Santana since the curse," Rachel says, stepping closer to Quinn. "Brittany seems to have a way with her."
Quinn's forehead crinkles as her mind moves quickly. She's known Santana longer than anyone else in the castle. She knows Rachel's words are accurate; Santana has never shown favor to someone so quickly. "The curse," she mumbles.
"If she can learn to love another and earn their love in return," Rachel recites quickly. She moves closer to Quinn. "The ballroom is proof. I informed her that Brittany likes to dance, well, that Maurice told us that when he arrived and it was her idea for Brittany. To surprise Brittany."
"Well, well, well," Quinn says, turning back to the dough.
"Tina and I are going to start immediately. I will need you to make sure that Brittany does not discover what we are up to. I know the ballroom isn't in an ideal location, being right off the entrance hall, but still. I believe we can manage." Rachel pauses, looking past Quinn, past the kitchen and compiling a list of all of the tasks she needs to begin. "But you wanted to speak with me?" She shakes herself and looks back to Quinn.
Quinn's shoulder's drop and her hands still again. "Yes," she says, pulling her fingers away from the sticky dough. She turns to face Rachel again and her face hardens. "Santana left the castle."
Rachel's eyes narrow a small amount. "Yes, to save Brittany."
"No, Rachel. Santana left the castle."
"Quinn, I am aware. I'm the one who saw them in the mirror."
"No, Rachel, Santana left the castle," Quinn hisses, her left hand absentmindedly squeezing the dough until it gushes between her fingers.
Rachel opens her mouth to speak, but stops. Her mouth closes and her eyes widen. "She did, didn't she?" Her tone of voice is quieter, slightly deeper. She glances down. "But..."
"Exactly," Quinn says, shaking her hand free of the dough. "She left and claims she didn't know she could."
"But why would she lie?" Rachel asks in earnest. "Quinn, I know she's sometimes...mean, but she wouldn't lie about being able to leave. If anything she would flaunt it in front of us."
"I know," Quinn mumbles, looking up at Rachel, then past her. "I tried leaving. I stood by the gate and I..." She sighs and focuses back on Rachel. "Only she can leave, apparently."
"And Finn," Rachel adds in a soft voice, glancing down.
"And Finn," Quinn repeats.
Both girls remain quiet, keeping their eyes averted. Rachel is the first the to break the silence. "Quinn...what do you..." She pauses and shifts her weight. "What do you think this means?"
Quinn sighs and turns back to the counter top, determined to finish her break. "I honestly have no idea, Rachel."
/
"What's going on?"
"Brittany!" Quinn and Rachel stop mid-stride. They exchange a quick glance before Quinn steps towards Brittany, smiling wide. "I was just thinking about you. I need your help in the kitchen."
Brittany narrows her eyes slightly, leaning to the left slightly to glance around Quinn. Rachel smiles sweetly at her and moves the bucket of water she's holding in her hands behind her back. "But what were you doing?" Brittany straightens and looks back to Quinn.
Quinn opens her mouth before sighing, shoulders dropping. "It's just something silly Santana is making us do." Quinn waves a hand at Rachel who begins to move away, towards a pair of double doors Brittany realizes she's never been in before. Quinn's hand on her elbow pulls her attention away from Rachel. "I could really use your help," Quinn says quietly.
Brittany nods slowly and follows Quinn to the kitchen. She looks over her shoulders a few times, hoping she can remember the way from her room to the entryway.
/
When Brittany is finally able to remove herself to her room for the night she collapses on the bed immediately. She sighs heavily and wipes her forearm across her forehead. Quinn kept her busy all afternoon, cooking and cleaning and preparing dinner and showing her new things about the castle; explaining it's history and how Santana's parents had acquired this piece or which Duke or Duchess gave them this painting. She knew it was all a distraction to keep her from the double doored room she never noticed before.
Too bad for Quinn and Rachel that once something curious crosses Brittany's path she becomes enthralled. Her father always used to tell her that curiosity killed the cat, but Brittany has at least three healthy cats and always meddles.
She rolls over on the bed, lying on her stomach. She buries her face in the soft blanket and bunches it up underneath her head like a pillow.
She knows she should get up and sneak around the castle to figure out what Quinn and Rachel are up to, but she can't find the energy. She's so tired after her long walk in the snow, her work with Quinn.
She falls asleep wondering how Santana spends her days.
/
When Brittany wakes up the next morning she stretches her body and opens her eyes slowly. Her room is so much brighter than it was the previous day. She sits up on the bed and smiles at the curtains, pulled back and letting the morning sunlight stream in.
Her room is warm and she moves around getting ready as quickly as possible.
Excitement moves in her and makes her feel ready for adventure, for sneakiness, for figuring out what Quinn and Rachel were trying to hide from her. She couldn't get the room out of her head –or rather, what lies beyond it. A new day meant a new attempt to figure out what was happening, what the the buzz in the castle she felt yesterday was about. She exits her room feeling confident.
She still isn't completely sure how to move through the castle, though. She tries anyway, moving through corridors and smiling to herself when she notices the curtains she opened yesterday are still open. It makes her heart beat a little harder and her smile hurt her cheeks just a bit. Brittany couldn't say why it matters so much, but for some reason it does.
She turns a corner and begins to walk quickly down the corridor. She knows she's close to the entrance hall, she can feel it. She turns what feels to be the fiftieth corner and jumps down the three steps leading to the top of the staircase in the entrance hall. She laughs at herself and quickly covers her mouth, hoping no one heard her laughter.
"Victory," she mumbles, standing at the top of the stairs. The entrance way is deserted, no Quinn to give her chores or Rachel to distract her. She glides down the steps quickly and her heart beats a little faster when she realizes that the door to the mysterious room is slightly ajar.
"There you are!"
Quinn's voice scares her and Brittany jumps, turning quickly. "I've been looking all over for you!" Quinn smiles brightly at Brittany and Brittany tries to return it. She can't help but feel disappointed, though oddly resigned.
"I'm sure," she mumbles. "Where am I needed now?"
Quinn either doesn't hear or ignores Brittany's sour tone of voice. "In the stables, something about Philippe."
"Right," Brittany replies. She moves towards the double doors leading out of the castle. She casts a furtive look over her shoulder at the door, which has been firmly closed by a smiling Quinn.
/
The next three days progress the same way. Any time Brittany tries to sneak away to the mystery room or explore the castle or breath – Quinn seems to be there, armed with a chore to be done or a story to keep Brittany occupied.
Brittany is certain it will never end and on the fourth day, she's about to give up.
/
Her walk from her room isn't sneaky or quick. Brittany knows Quinn is waiting around one of the many corners she has to turn. Quinn has been in the castle longer and knows everything about it Brittany doesn't, all of the secret ways and hidden routes.. She knows she'll see the room eventually, but her plan of action needs to change.
She's in her own head, thinking of the best way to get into the room when she runs into something.
The collision is quick and startles Brittany. Her body jolts as she's pushed backwards. She panics, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. She fears she's knocked over another suit of armor, but when she hears no horrible clamor and realizes that the thing she has bumped into is warm instead of cold metal, she looks up quickly.
Santana glares at her through narrow eyes.
"Oh!" Brittany's mouth forms the shape as she stares at Santana. When she realizes just how long she's been staring she sucks her lips into her mouth and looks down at the red carpet, to the tapestry on the wall, to the ornate moldings along the line where wall meets ceiling...
"I was looking for you," Santana says in her rough tone.
Brittany's eyes flick back to Santana and lock on her face, her dark eyes.
Santana looks away and clears her throat. She crosses her arms. Brittany eyes follow the motion. She lets her eyes linger over Santana, her floor length velvet red dress, with it's black pattern and Santana's dark purple riding cloak that she never seems to be without.
"Why?" Brittany's eyes flick upward when she registers Santana clearing her throat.
"I have...something to show you," Santana says. She tilts her head and Brittany watches as her mouth twitches slightly.
"Alright."
/
"Now, keep them closed," Santana says.
Brittany swears it's the fifteenth time Santana's told her to keep her eyes closed. Any other day she may have found it annoying, today is different, though. The reminder makes her grin broaden and her cheeks ache with excitement. She feels giddy, the way she did as a child when her father would wrap a scarf around her eyes before revealing her birthday gift to her.
"I am," Brittany assures Santana.
"Don't ruin the surprise," Santana says. Her voice is different than Brittany has ever heard before. It's softer and full, a gentle fullness that Brittany associates with the way her fathers voice sounds. It makes the scratch in Santana's voice seem almost happy.
"I'm not," Brittany laughs.
"Alright, just keep them closed," Santana repeats.
Brittany giggles harder at the words. She keeps her eyes closed and tries to listen closely. A slight scraping and a sound of wood groaning, the doors opening. Footsteps approaching her. Brittany's body jolts. Warm, soft hands find her own and hold them gently, almost tender as if she's breakable. Her hands tingle, her body warms to the touch. She inhales shakily when she realizes the hands are Santana's.
"This way," Santana says so softly.
Brittany's lack of vision makes her feel disoriented and wide awake all at once. She can't see Santana, it's almost as if in the absence of her sight, she's feeling her. She knows Santana is standing close to her. She can feel her presence, the heat of her as it radiates off of her like sun rays. Brittany soaks in the warmth, nearly basking in the closeness. She thinks maybe it's just the lack of physical contact that makes Santana's body so close to her feel like a comfort.
Brittany nods and squeezes Santana's hands to let her know she understands – she can't yet find her words.
Santana's pulls her lightly forward, into the mysterious room.
It's the one thing Brittany has been striving for the past few days and she can't seem to concentrate on what mysteries she may about to behold. All she knows is Santana's hands in her own, firm and comforting and how her stomach feels as if she's swallowed butterflies. Her stomach flips in a way that makes her heart feel as if it's beating in her throat and keeping her words at bay. It's a new sensation Brittany has never had before and she wishes to savor it forever, never let it go; even if that means never finding out what's in the mysterious room.
Their combined footsteps echo loudly around them. Brittany is distracted from her own thoughts when she realizes that sounds in the room feel distorted. "Can I open my eyes?"
"Wait one more moment," Santana says with obvious excitement. She drops Brittany's hands without preamble and Brittany feels Santana leave her. The sudden coolness that rushes to greet her snatches the butterfly feeling away and Brittany shivers.
/
Santana nearly runs across the ballroom she is so excited. She's never surprised anyone with a gift. She isn't actually sure if she's ever given a gift, but the feeling is addicting, the thrill of it all. Especially since she knows Brittany deserves a gift.
Especially because it's Brittany.
The thought makes her stumble slightly over her cloak. She catches herself and blinks at the ground a few times.
"You alright?" Brittany's voice echoes.
Santana turns quickly. "I'm fine, keep your eyes closed."
Brittany's echoing giggle envelops Santana and reminds her what she's supposed to be doing. She moves quickly to the edge of the ballroom, throwing open all of the curtains. Sunlight streams in and for the first time in a very long time, Santana does not shy away from it.
The heat feels like homecoming on her face and she turns to Brittany. "Open curtains," she mumbles to herself. She walks back to Brittany. The excitement and anticipation feel like they've been washed away from her, as if the sun has doused her in it's light and scrubbed away all of her giddy feelings, replacing them with anxiety.
What if Brittany doesn't like it?
What if she doesn't like dancing?
What if it reminds her of her father and she hates Santana because of it?
The thoughts are so big they make Santana's stomach bubble and her heart pound in her chest so hard she feels faint. When she reaches Brittany's side she finds her hands again, slightly calloused but perfectly warm, inviting. The way they hold Santana's own like they're the two final pieces of a particularly hard puzzle.
"Ready?" Santana asks in a whisper.
/
Brittany smiles and nods. Santana's hands in her own makes the butterflies return.
"Open your eyes."
Brittany hesitates for a moment, knowing Santana with her other senses feels much better than knowing Santana through small conversations and averted eyes. She opens her eyes, though, remembering her conquest from the past few days.
She audibly gasps and grips Santana's hand, bringing it up to her chest and wrapping her other hand around it.
A ballroom.
A real ballroom.
Brittany has seen very few in her life, each one more beautiful than the last, but this ballroom literally takes her breath away. The floor is marble and looks gold and is so clean Brittany can see her reflection in it. The walls are decorated with blue and gold cloth and the room is surrounded by pillars which meet at one end at a staircase and the other at the entrance to a large balcony. A gold chandelier covered in what Brittany is certain must be dozens of candles hangs from the middle of the ceiling.
She takes a few slow steps forward, mouth open.
"Do you like it?"
Brittany turns, Santana's hand still clutched to her chest. They're so close together, closer than Brittany has ever stood to another woman. Her heart thuds in her chest and she knows Santana must feel it against her hand.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Brittany tells Santana, holding eye contact.
"Then it's yours," Santana says nearly breathless, as if the words have come out of their own volition.
Brittany exhales a small laugh and reacts on instinct. She pulls Santana close to her, dropping her hand and wrapping her arms around her body. When their bodies meet the butterflies in Brittany's stomach go wild, they dance and make her feel feather light. She smiles when she feels Santana's arms, rather stiffly, hug her around the neck.
Brittany feels like their bodies fit better together than their hands and is reluctant to pull apart.
Santana is the one to pull away first. She smiles at Brittany and glances down.
"It's wonderful," Brittany says, letting her eyes take in everything around her. It's still too much to take in at once. "Thank you, Santana."
/
Santana nods as Brittany moves away from her.
Her heart pounds, her head spins. She can feel heat in her face and she's afraid she's been struck by a sudden fever.
And yet, she can't stop smiling. Her mouth works on it's own accord, grinning broadly and rather foolishly as Brittany spins about more graceful than falling snow. When she turns back to Santana, and rushes forward, taking her hand in her own and asking for a dance, Santana can't help but oblige.
She feels almost certain that she wouldn't be able to deny Brittany anything, had she been asked in that moment.
"I've never really danced," Santana admits as Brittany places a hand on Santana's waist. The action causes Santana's body to jolt and her stomach to knot and her fever to return.
"You're a lady, you must know how to dance. You must have been to so many balls," Brittany says, smiling.
The glint in Brittany's eyes is something Santana feels she has seen before. It's familiar, as if she's seen it in a dream. Maybe in her father's eye when he spoke of her mother, or the way Quinn's eyes looked after her daughter was born. "I never enjoyed balls."
Brittany pauses and Santana can feel sharp blue eyes looking over her face. She takes a step back, dislodging Brittany's touch. "I'm not much of a dancer anyway."
A silence befalls the two and Santana knows it's her own fault.
The world has seemed to come crashing down on her. Her life as it was, what she has lost, what she is now. A beast, giving away ballrooms to a prisoner who is too beautiful and kind to be a prisoner. Everything feels muddled, Brittany's hands on her waist, Brittany's hands in her own, Brittany herself has left Santana feeling feverish and ill.
She wants the feelings to last forever and it worries her and scares for reasons she does not know.
"What do you think?"
For once in her life, Santana is relieved to have Rachel intrude.
"It's marvelous, now all I need is some music," Brittany says, taking a step away from Santana and engaging Rachel in conversation.
"Now all you need is a handsome young man to dance with," Rachel says.
Santana knows that Brittany is to dance with a young man, that she may have one back in her village that Santana doesn't know about. The thought of Brittany dancing with someone else, anyone that isn't her, leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
Brittany pulls Rachel into a sweeping dance, twirling her around as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Santana watches and feels her heart leaden with every passing moment. The warm, dizzy feeling she knew she was sharing with Brittany evaporates so fast Santana feels as if someone has taken the floor out from beneath her.
"What a nice thing you've done," Quinn says.
Santana's eyes never leave Brittany. "I suppose."
"I don't believe I've ever seen you be so generous to someone who doesn't have a title."
Santana remains quiet.
"And I've never been more fond of you than I am now."
Santana's eyes dart to the side to glare at Quinn.
"I'm sure Brittany feels the same."
Santana opens her mouth to spit something back at Quinn.
"That's the biggest smile I've seen on her yet."
Whatever insult about Quinn remembering her place Santana was planning on using is wiped away immediately. It's replaced with a soft bubbling sensation and a small half-smile of which Quinn can't help but take notice.