Author's note: So in the end, I decided to revise this chapter a little. I'm not sure if I got all the points I wanted across but it seems all right. Depending on my mood I may end up rewriting all of Chapter 6, as I haven't decided who she will take with her on her adventure. :-/

As always, thanks for the RxR, and suggestions are also welcome.

-Kero (9/12/13)

CHAPTER 5: The Rogue at the Ball

THIS is what he meant by 'nothing too fancy'…?! she lamented inwardly.

Esther fidgeted with anxiousness as the hand maidens adjusted and ironed out the fabric of her dress as she stood statuesquely. After another elegantly smelling bath they brought in a gorgeous gown of pale blue satin. A chiffon shell of tiny, embroidered silver stars draped over both sides and tied into a large bow, trailing long in the back. The moment she saw it she knew that Marcassin had chosen it because of their conversation last night. The dress was sleeveless but a short tailored jacket of the same chiffon and embroidered stars kept the ensemble modest as its frilly collar clasped at her neck with a silver pin shaped like a crescent moon with a sapphire star in the center. Elegant sateen gloves, woven by the mechanical looms in the renown textile factories of Hamelin, covered her arms while her feet were adorned with dancing slippers of a soft leather dipped in silver dye. It was by far the most opulent outfit she had ever worn in her life. Her hair was tied up in a braided bun but the ends were curled into golden ringlets. As she looked at herself in the mirror she wondered whose reflection it was looking back.

To think she was covered in mud and grime just at the beginning of the week...

She was still marveling at the transformation when there was a soft rap at the door. She turned to see Marcassin enter the room. He wore his country's teal and purple colors in a long sateen tunic emblazoned with his family crest in gold thread, while a heavy velvet red robe draped over his shoulders, clasped at the base of his neck with Hamelin's crest in a gold medallion. His puffy white sateen sleeves looked as though they may have been cut from the same cloth as her gloves. The robe was slit into two panels in the front and two in the back, most likely to accommodate dancing, while two silver clasps of sun and moon pinned the robe at his shoulders, connected by a gleaming silver chain across his chest. His long hair looked softer and silkier than her own and was otherwise unadorned. He wore purple leggings that were mostly hidden behind the length of his tunic that reached the ground, but they peeked through the side openings as he walked. His belt was a braided silver chain accented with little silver stars to match the ones on her dress. He was definitely an impeccable dresser.

Esther flushed a little at the thought of being a "matching couple" with him. Her cheeks became more red as she saw his eyes go wide and his lips remain silent as he observed her.

"You look absolutely stunning, Miss Esther," he finally said at length. He offered a gloved hand to her.

"Thank you," she said shyly, placing her hand in his. "But I think you look more in your element, Your Highness." He smiled at her words and led her out of the room.

Esther could not help but notice the shining glances amid the curtsey's and bows the servants gave them both as they walked past.

"Everyone seems to agree with me, I think," he said with a smile of self-satisfaction as they approached the main hall where the party had already commenced. He took her hand, tucked it under his arm and placed it in the crook of his elbow so that she was suddenly standing closer to him. Even a simple gesture seemed so elegantly executed by Marcassin. Esther had to smile at her own unrefined background.

He speaks more eloquently, dresses better, has better taste and impeccable manners than you. Oh, Esther, she thought to herself in good humor, you're a shame to your gender….

It was as though the entire hum and buzz of the voices in the room tapered off into silence as they walked across the threshold and into the center of the extremely polished floor. Excited whispers behind fans and gloved hands spoke of the elegant prince and the flower of the desert, and how fortuitous the audience was to have two heros of the Age stand amongst them. Unknown to Esther during these recent days spent in Hamelin, her reputation as a heroine who helped save the world was upended by her reputation now as a dragon tamer. Within the ballroom, the eyes of all wizards, witches and soldiers invited to the event from far and wide watched her with wide-eyed wonder and envy.

The silence was broken by a trill and a fanfare of trumpets to open the celebration with a dance. At once, the people in the room sought out their partners and formed a large, wide ring around the Emperor and his pretty guest. A small troupe of musicians began to play the anthem of Hamelin.

Esther looked around in puzzlement when she whispered to Marcassin. "What's everyone doing?"

"Getting ready for the first dance that I am going to lead," he answered plainly.

"That you're-" she started when her eyes went wide. "You mean we…?" The expression of shock overcame her ability to speak further as she looked up into his face.

"Yes," he smiled mischievously. His gentle blue eyes twinkled as he slipped her hand into his open palm and with his other arm pushed her closer to him. With the back of his gloved hand formally touching the small of her back, he was already in position to begin.

"But, I can't d-dance!" she whispered nervously and tried to pull away but the firmness of his arms surprised her.

"You cannot just run off and leave me here. I cannot do this alone," he frowned slightly. He bent his head down to whisper in her ear. The feel of his breath near her face sent a shock through her.

"Please relax, and let me do the leading."

Easier said than done… she thought to herself.

As the music transitioned into a waltz, Esther sighed resignedly and took a long, steady breath. As she exhaled she felt the tension ease a little and she lifted her gaze into Marcassin's gentle blue eyes, her face expressionless but her mind extremely focused on looking straight at him.

Prince Marcassin chuckled a bit at the intensity of her gaze. "You look at me as though you are about to do battle with me."

"I just might as soon as we're finished," said Esther, only half in jest.

He pulled her close enough so that the length of their bodies were touching, and he brushed his lips gently against her temple. Esther felt the tension drain from her body only to be replaced by a limp numbness and dazed feeling.

What just happened…? she thought.

He uttered the words, "Trust me," right before his body started to move into the dance.

Esther couldn't be certain how but she moved as he moved, both in concert with one another, and it was as though her body was no longer her own. Her arms, her legs, her feet all moved as he wanted, as if they belonged to him. All she heard was the music and all she felt was their connection where he held her hand and where he pressed gently against her back. His hands would give her queues as to which direction to step, when to dip and they would lead her into the next twirl effortlessly. On and on these motions repeated and not once did she look away from him. She was mesmerized by his every move, his timed breathing and his inviting gaze. He was no longer that little boy from years ago and she realized she had to stop thinking of him as such. Her entire mind filled with Marcassin and none of it seemed strange at all.

She barely noticed when the music was fading as he led her into her last twirl. The spell was finally lifted when he released her and she blinked out of her daze. She curtseyed as low and elegantly as she possibly could as she saw Marcassin making a low, formal bow. When it was over she took a deep breath and breathed in her relief.

"Contrary to your belief, you do possess more than one talent, Miss Esther," smiled Marcassin kindly. "Your taming skills are only equalled by your enchanting voice, your unrivaled charm, and your graceful dancing abilities."

"Please, Your Highness," she laughed as she looked away. "Whatever happened just now…I think that was all you." The hall filled with praise and the light applause of gloved hands as they stared at the couple in the center of the room. A few other nobles and guests walked over to them to praise the Emperor and his pretty partner, while others came and spoke with Marcassin regarding Hamelin's affairs, and she gave vague, polite responses in turn. Esther watched the prince beside her silently as he replied to them in turn, using his formal and eloquent speech patterns again.

Marcassin…

I think I might be...

When he turned to address her again, she found that she could no longer meet his gaze. A heavy haze clouded her heart and her brow furrowed at the sensation. She suddenly felt rather stifled. What's wrong with me?

I can't do this….

"Is something the matter, Miss Esther?" asked Marcassin, his face immediately tinged with concern at her turn of expression. He stepped closer to her but she unwittingly stepped back in the opposite direction. She looked up at him indirectly and gave him an embarrassed smile.

"I'm afraid I may have been a little overwhelmed by the excitement. Please excuse me," she said as she did a polite curtsey to him and the other guests. "I need some air." Without even waiting for his response she turned because she could already feel her smile fading, and hurried off in the direction of the nearest open terrace door.

When she came to the far metal railing of the terrace her gloved hands gripped it tightly for dear life.

I'm not a princess… she thought to herself. I'm just an ordinary….

She looked up at the vaulted roof of the city, lit by its magical energy source behind large glazed panels held in a mesh of elegantly crafted steel and iron. The "Canopy" as the locals called it, was lit a faint dark blue color now, to mimic the color of a night sky. In the day, it was tinted a pale yellow to mimic the sun. It was the epitome of a technologically and scientifically advanced culture and a marvel to behold and yet Esther felt out of place beneath it. All about the palace were the dwellings of the people of the city. Their faint voices, the commotion of their lives and their machines hummed in the distance. Every light was a window with a family dwelling in it. Long ago Esther had wanted to be like them. In the end, she never did find a place where she stayed for very long and traveling seemed to be the norm.

I can't stay here forever. I want to see the stars again….

Within her was a whim to grab the orb containing the spirit of the Darkwing, to cast a summon spell, and take immediate flight away from Hamelin. The urge to get away was very strong now.

"Perhaps I've stayed too long," she thought aloud. "I should leave…before…"

"Before what?" asked a familiar, gruff voice behind her. She spun round immediately to see a face of a friend. He was not dressed as shabbily as she remembered him but his clothes were simple and not eye-catching at all. The eldest former prince of Hamelin was dressed more like a servant than a noble.

"S-Swaine," she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, well, you know," he said running and hand through his unruly mop of hair. It was not an explanation at all but then again that was her friend Swaine. Always as incoherent and mysterious as ever.

"You're looking after your younger brother again, aren't you?" she smiled with amusement.

"O-of course not," he replied but they way he looked away spoke differently. "He's a grown man already. He doesn't need his big brother to mess things up for him."

"Have you said hello at least?" she frowned. "You know he would really like to see you again."

"I will, I will," he said, in a rather non-committal fashion.

"You're his only family, Swaine," she lectured. "It wouldn't kill you to show a little kindness to your brother."

"Since when were you his avid fangirl?" he groaned. "I thought only your Queen was like that."

Esther let out an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. "Not every girl is an avid fangirl of the Sage of Hamelin," she said matter-of-factly. "It's just that you don't visit very often, do you? I know you support him from the sidelines but every once in a while you should sit down and spend some time together." As she spoke, Swaine picked a piece of wax from his ear.

"Why is it that every time you're near me, you have a mind to nag me?" he asked with irritation. Esther put her hands on her hips and huffed at him.

"Call it what you will," she said. "It's just that I think Prince Marcassin might be rather lonely sitting on the Emperor's chair by himself."

"What he needs is a girlfriend," sighed Swaine.

"Then maybe someone should arrange one for him," she suggested lightly, although it wasn't what she really wanted to say.

"Well, I'm surprised you're saying that," said the ex-prince. "You looked rather enamoured dancing with my kid brother back there."

"W-what are you suggesting?" she shot back with indignation.

"Hehe," he chuckled. "What AM I suggesting…? he asked rhetorically. Esther rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I can't stay if that's what you're suggesting," she signed. "I still have to find that idiot before he hurts himself. Queen Cowlipha would be mad if I lost him. He is, after all, my research partner."

"What? And leave all THIS?" Swaine asked, sweeping and open arm in a grandiose fashion towards the main hall where the nobles and guests were all a twitter with wine and merriment. "Isn't this what all girls dream of?" Esther could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and she wondered if Swaine actually got the better bargain of the two brothers.

"Not all girls are fit for love," she sighed. Esther's thoughts turned dark again. Something in her heart was not quite right. Still, there was no time to think about that now, and besides, it was a bother to ponder what was beyond her understanding.

"Gascon, you're here?" asked a voice from behind. They turned to see Prince Marcassin stepping out onto the terrace.

Oh… she thought to herself, a little nervous at what she had just said. How long has he been standing there…?

"Yup," his brother answered. "I'm here to report a disturbance in the lower quarter. There seems to be a strange little man who wants to bring an untamed ghoul-type creature into his room at a local inn. The innkeeper is raising hell and called the town guard. I happened to be passing by, as it was close to the tavern I frequent, and I noticed this fool was carrying the a golden travel pass from the kingdom of Al-Mamoon. As your ambassador I'd like to inform you that the way we treat him could affect our relations with Queen Cowlipha and her country."

"Where is he now?" asked Marcassin.

"The guards threw him in prison, beneath the palace," his brother answered simply. Marcassin let out a groan inadvertently while Esther put a hand over her eyes, ashamed to even be associated with Derwin in that moment.

She turned to Marcassin and curtseyed politely. "If you don't mind, Your Highness, I would like to retrieve my research partner." She added, "Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness, and the party was lovely. But I'm afraid I do have to go back to Derwin. I think we should make preparations to depart again. He tends to wander off into dangerous holes and caves, and he has tendencies to leave without me, so I think I'd better pack now."

"So soon?" asked Marcassin, rather reluctantly.

"Yes," she responded definitively.

"As my ambassador, my brother will escort you to the border lands for your safety."

"She's a big girl, Marcassin, is there really a need for me to-" began Swain when he was abruptly cut off.

"I insist," said Marcasin with a steely gaze that Swain knew not to challenge.

"I thank you, Your Highness," said Esther with polite acceptance. Having Swain travel with her part of the way was at least not as bad as traveling with Derwin alone. She would at least have someone else to keep her mind off of strangling her genius research partner when his inner idiot surfaced once again.

"Well then, you have my permission to retrieve your partner from the prison. I will also alert my chamberlain to see to your travel needs."

"No, there's no-"

"I insist," reiterated Marcassin sternly. "If you will not travel with an entourage at least travel with the right equipment for this journey."

"I…" Esther thought of a retort but held her tongue. "I thank you again for your hospitality and kindness, Your Highness. Please excuse me," she added without looking at either of them and walked back to her room.

Stupid Derwin, she thought hotly as she went back to her room. "Always being himself at the most inopportune times…." After a brief pause, she added to her collage of thoughts, Stupid Swaine! Putting nonsensical ideas in my head!

After she closed the door, she started pulling the hairpins out of her coif and her long, golden hair fell down past her shoulders. She hastily grabbed her travel pack and started packing her things. Esther pulled her travel clothes and cloak out of the dresser drawers and placed them neatly on a table nearby. The Darkwing orb, still resting on a velvet pillow sent a glowing pulse of light for her.

"I know you're asking me what's wrong and you're trying to understand me better," she spoke to the orb quietly. "I just think we should leave here as soon as possible. I have to finish what I started…. And, staying here makes me feel…too much… or not enough. Actually, I can't tell the difference."

Esther stepped onto a bench and gathered her puffy skirts around her as she sat down, pulling her knees up against her chest despondently. For some reason she felt miserable but she didn't know why. Esther buried her face in her skirt ruffles.

Her doubt clouded her heart. If she had lost more than she realized several years ago in a fit of youthful folly in defiance of the Dark Wizard, was there even a remedy for that? Did it have anything to do with the fact that the emotion Oliver had placed in her was someone else's and not her own? When Shadar broke a person's heart and mind, was there no way to replace all the pieces lost? Or was her doubt and confusion something she herself had created, harkening back to those lonely days when children in town would sing insulting songs about her?

"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. There was no answer. Any other girl would take this opportunity and make it her own in a heartbeat.

But, she could barely resist the feeling of desperation and the urge to run as far away from him as possible. In the end, the urge to get away outweighed all other sentiments, and her incomplete commission by the Queen was merely an excuse to leave. The fact that she was aware of this made her heart heavy.