Prompt: A kiss on the; back of the hand (#1/25)
Setting: Fairytale Land
He knew she wouldn't be happy — or perhaps it was that she would be, and that was far worse an emotion to display, when this Hatter sauntered in to the King's ball, not bothering to have warned her that he'd somehow procured an invite.
Jefferson enjoyed finding little ways, finding big ways, really any way, to set the Queen's cheeks to flushing pink, her heart to racing nervously, her eyes to finding his in a flitting motion — saying all the things she knew she couldn't speak. Not, at least, until she was somewhere more private with him. And then he could expect quite a royal scolding. One he would bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from mocking, although his eyes would give it away. And she would be less than regal then, scowling up at him as he couldn't help smirking down at her. She just made it so easy.
As he made his way around the party, he made sure not to let his gaze linger too long on the nearly entirely ignored Queen. Every so often he allowed himself a glimpse, and found her trying to give him the same treatment. Large eyes begging him not to cause any trouble.
But trouble was practically his second name.
He approached the King — audacious and charming as always, selling himself as someone who no matter what the King could possibly need, he was the man to get it. For a man who proclaimed to need nothing, he seemed rather interested in the prospect of Jefferson's services being so readily available to him. And in the ultimate move of boldness then, he asked to be introduced to his Queen.
His eyes found hers as the King lamely introduced her. My wife, Regina. If only he knew. She may have been his wife but she was not his. Not from where Jefferson was standing. He gave a respectful bow, extending his hand to her — and when he clasped hers it was noticeable how it went from shaking to calm within his grasp, and the smile that she offered him was genuine, even amidst her uneasiness.
It was a fool's move. But Jefferson was just that. A fool for coming here, a fool for staying, a fool for thinking he could greet her right in front of her husband, without his having a clue of how entirely familiar with her he really was.
Her smile melted just discernibly, as his lips pressed firmly against her hand, and the words left his lips lowly, just as he pulled away.
"Wonderful to meet you, your majesty."