Fantasy ♡ need you like a heartbeat. (starboob & ellarose.)

[starboob]

Willow can’t tell whether Lucky appears so smug because they’re being doted upon by their second favorite caster or whether it’s because this has clearly gotten under a certain possum’s (not a cat!) skin. Jeffery Von Willigans hasn’t been seen since the whole debacle with Peaches, but they scuttle through the walls every now and again, as if to remind everyone that they are still there. And their hisses make it known that they are not pleased with these developments. This only seems to delight Lucky. They don’t even hiss back. They trill in a mocking way instead.

Currently, Milfred, the infernal eater of souls, menace of the woods, baker of hand-pies (Willow had been far too excited about those only to discover…), and friend to the heroines of love has Lucky James posing for one of her famous portraits. Lucky has shifted their scales to match the colors of a purple and orange galaxy, making them appear as a cosmic dragon instead of a twilight one, and they’re holding a ferocious pose with their jaw opened wide. A steady flame streams out of their mouth, warming the room, but doing nothing else. (As always, there are multiple colors within her dragon’s flames. Tiny dancers are fanning out their flaming skirts and showing off their pirouettes.) Willow thinks they look quite handsome and, from her peaks over Milfred’s shoulder, she can tell she’s doing them as much justice as she once did for Gracie. (Ah, she misses the fox.) ‘I hope she’s okay.’

When the wood dweller, artist, caster extraordinaire pointedly avoids the subject of Flynn and instead asks about Lucky’s name, she blinks herself back to the present. Hmm. It’s not that she has to think very hard to recall this story, but… There is an opportunity to perhaps accomplish two (maybe three) things at once. 'Gotta be crafty crafty.'

Idly, Willow drums her fingers against Peaches’s bubble—accidentally startling the companion enough that she dashes over to take refuge in Juliet’s arms—as she thinks over how to start, now drumming her fingers against her thighs. “Well, Lucifer’s name came from you, admittedly—I panicked when you asked.” She scratches her cheek. “But the name James comes from me, obviously, and that name came from my father.” Willow has debated dropping the surname before and taking on her mother’s maiden name, but she supposes she’s never really felt like Yeong either. That has nothing to do with her grandmas either; there’s just something about keeping her father’s surname that has always felt important to her. Mainly because it’s also her triple great grandfather’s name and she wants to keep the integrity of the name alive where Wesley James failed. “The name Lucky… Well, do you want the short or long version?”

“The epic, if you please,” Milfred hums, sticking out her tongue as she compares her portrait to her muse.

“Righto,” she nods, rocking her head back and forth to bring back the memory. “Well, I don’t know if you all have companion groves here in Folklore—I haven’t seen any marked on Juliet’s map.” She looks over at the archer, then at Milfred and when neither indicates that they know what she’s talking about, she explains. “In Evermore there are various locations throughout the states where companions can be summoned. I don’t remember why these locations happen to be great for meeting companions, but I think it has to do with significant historical events or something like that. Anyway, these groves are bursting with magical energies and since it’s pretty rare for kiddos to manifest their companions on their own, most kindergartens—”

“You grow children in Evermore?” Milfred pauses her painting and looks up in both astonishment and curiosity. Willow can see the dangerous gears turning in her head at the thought, the endless possibilities that come from such a misleading word.

“No!” She has to end that thought before it starts, but it might already be too late. The infernal eater of souls has already summoned her notebook and is writing something down, though Willow can’t tell what from this angle. “No, it’s just the name for schools for, like, five year olds. Mostly. Babies are made the same in both realms.” She's pretty sure, at least. But before they can have the talk, Willow steamrolls on. “Anyway, at the age of five, children are taken on a field trip to the companion groves and taught one of their first magical lessons.

“My school and a few others were all slotted to go to a grove in the woods around Elsewhere. I was really shy back then so I ended up hiding inside of a hollowed out log after the lesson while the other kids were busy trying to get their companions to come to them. I didn’t really have any friends in kindergarten,” and she didn’t really make friends until fifth grade, when she moved to the Rhode Island house and got placed in the same class as Meredith. “And I remember really wishing for a friend, someone to keep me company and someone who would never ever abandon or hurt me. Someone who would protect me.” Leif still hadn’t liked her much at the time and wasn’t great at being her big brother. She doesn’t hold a grudge against him and forgave him long ago. She hardly thinks about it now, but she thinks Leif still feels bad for associating her so much with her father that his hatred for him translated to a hatred for Willow too. “I must’ve wished for Lucky, because I blinked and there Lucky was—they couldn’t decide on a form at first and kept shifting between an ocelot, a frog, a monkey, and a bunch of other animals that I don’t remember.” Lucky trills fondly as Willow tells the story. “I don’t remember what happened next—either a little fox companion found us and Lucky went to chase him off or maybe something bumped against our little hiding spot and Lucky went to go check it out—either way, the second the other kids saw a companion that kept shifting forms, they were all chasing after Lucky, claiming that Lucky was their companion.” She doesn’t blame them, it was pretty cool. Lucky is pretty cool.

“Well, at a certain point I got curious and crawled out of my hiding place and saw Lucky struggling in the arms of some other kid.” She looks at Juliet, “Griffith, actually.” That was the first time she ever met him. “He was saying that Lucky was obviously his, but the second Lucky saw me, they bit Griffith and ran off towards me. That made him mad and he tried to take his anger out of both of us, but Lucky, who had settled on being a honey badger for that hour, grew in size and scared him right off. Griffith muttered something about how, ‘I got lucky,’ and, well, I really liked the name. They’ve been Lucky ever since.” Griffith also tried to get Lucky taken from Willow by complaining to his father, the governor of Elsewhere at the time, but not even the governor had much power to take someone’s companion away. Especially since it had been self-defense. The laws are pretty ironclad and imbued with ancient magic that makes them almost impossible to break. Plus, there were enough witnesses to point out that Griffith started it, including Dorothea Birdsong and some of the other Charming Street kids. “My Lucky Duck.”

Hisses in dragon.
Amused hiss in possum (not cat).
Furious hiss back in dragon.

“I’d say they’re a pretty good judge of character for choosing me,” she muses, reaching over to stroke their neck. They jerk away, still upset about her uttering that name in front of their sworn rival. Willow shrugs, taking it in stride, knowing her companion well enough to know they aren’t really mad and they'll be happily napping in her lap once this is all over. Still, she tosses them a hand from the basket beside her as a peace offering and her companion forgives her. “How did you get your name, Milfred of the woods?”

 

[ellarose]

"Ah, yes. Indeed. I thought the same when Jeffery Von Willigans left their kingdom behind to stay with me. My dearest cat." Millicent says affectionately, doting on her possum (not a cat) as she mixes a specific purple on her palette to match the color of Lucky's scales. Her companion hisses from inside the wall and... given the nature of their hisses, it's difficult to discern their complicated emotions on the matter. "And, for quite some time, my one and only companion."

Juliet knows this comment isn't pointed at her so much as it is at Flynn Everson, but a twinge of guilt rises in her chest anyhow. (She made her own share of mistakes... young and a fool in love.) With this shift in tone, she wishes that Willow would simply continue to tell stories about Lucky and her own life for a while. Simply because-- ah-- the sound of her voice is soothing and strangely familiar. And it has been a very long couple of days. The warmth from Lucky's flame makes for a safe, comforting atmosphere... one she rarely ever finds herself wrapped in. But she's been finding it more often since meeting Willow James.

"The name 'Milfred' was born from Juliet's mushy, sentimental nickname and your imagination supplying the rest, Willow. In a way, it is your baby."

Their... baby? Juliet blushes as red as her hood at this, immediately bringing a hand to her temple. Oh. Oh, no. That does not sound right at all. Goodness.

"Juliet has a surprisingly gentle and nurturing spirit, you know. I trust she will make an excellent mother someday, if she ever chooses to be one." Millicent is no doubt joking at her expense, wearing a smile rife with mischief.

"You're making fun of me." Juliet responds flatly, huffing and averting her eyes. "I used my dolls for target practice."

"Nonsense! Most of the dolls in Amoria are lifeless husks." Millicent glances over at Willow to explain. "Unless they're cursed, that is. Normally, only dolls created in Toyland or the Paper Doll Forest possess souls. And I presume the August family provided you with the emptiest dolls on the market." Millicent waves her hand dismissively before waving it in a spiral towards the archer. "...You're practically cradling Peaches."

Juliet opens her mouth to protest, but can't exactly say anything to defend herself in this case. She has been holding Peaches close and protectively ever since she sought refuge in her arms. (Although in part, it's because she's missing Gracie, especially while hearing Willow and Millie discuss their own companions.) If the fox were here right now, she'd be rubbing affectionately against her calves or warming her lap.

"When we were children, Juliet would tuck Grace in with a little blanket and sing her lullabies when she thought no one was there." Millicent continues-- apparently hellbent on embarrassing her today. The witch of the wood cackles as she picks out a smaller brush for details and gets started painting the tiny dancers in Lucky's flames. "I'd watch from my hiding place in the wardrobe just before jumping out to scare them!"

Jeffery Von Willigans hisses like they're laughing in the walls. This time, their emotions aren't a puzzle to figure out. They took great joy in those awful schemes.

Juliet glares, unimpressed. (She remembers all of it. It's clearer than that afternoon.) She's tempted to hiss back at Jeffery Von Willigans the same way that Lucky does. (...And she used to, as a kid. They'd sit, glare at each other, and hiss back and forth on the porch steps.) Lara had been teaching her different animal calls at the time. It just felt natural.

"I wasn't scared." Juliet insists stubbornly. (Okay, she might have been scared the first time it happened. But the little witch's antics got predictable after the second time.) "I almost killed you."

"That you did." Millicent agrees, sighing wistfully at the memories. "I knew from the moment you almost chopped my arm off that we would be very good friends."

Peaches, oblivious to how abnormal this conversation is, squeaks happily at the mention of friendship. Jeffery Von Willigans hisses. (An angry hiss this time.) Lucky hisses as well, undoubtedly telling the possum (not a cat) to fuck off.

"As for my title... I inherited it. That is how most titles work, is it not? I became the witch of the wood after my dear mother made her fashionable descent into hell." Millicent notes with a shrug, as if this is the afterthought of her story when it's anything but. (To this day, Juliet still doesn't know what happened. She just knows that Millicent found her after it happened.) "Everyone in her village thought her cursed and barren. When my mother fled to the wood, she ensured that no one knew of my existence. Not even my father... although, I suppose I may not have a father if I was grown in a garden." She tilts her head, seriously considering this. (Much like Juliet, Millicent doesn't know who her father is.) "Lara, Juliet, and Nessie are the only ones who know eye-- I exist." She grins at Willow. "And you, I suppose, along with my tall wolf twin." She pauses. "Everyone else believes that I am my mother, thinking she is immortal and eats the souls of children to maintain this lovely, youthful form." The witch frames her face with her hands and bats her eyes. Then her expression falls as she pivots her attention back to her painting. "No one knows that the real witch of the wood is dead."

Juliet holds Peaches closer for comfort. Having only known Millicent's mother for brief moments as a child, she's not certain what might have motivated her. Whether it was the arrogance of wanting to keep her haunting title alive in the wood-- or if she was genuinely trying to protect Millicent by leaving her sheltered there. (Sheltered but alone and lonely, with no one around to check in or take care of her.)

"Lara and Juliet stopped visiting. Then mother died. It was tragic." Millicent sighs loudly, a bit too loudly, to make a mockery of her own pain. "I do speak with cousin Nessie from time to time... but she prattles on and on about her sea glass collection and it gets quite boring after a while. Jeffery Von Willigans was the only one I had until we faked Juliet's death. She lived with me in the wood for a while until..." A dark cloud casts shadows over her face. "She disappeared again. Thanks to that blasted Flynn Everson, taking her back to Amoria." She glares at Juliet, no longer holding up her theatrics. This is genuine anger, genuine hurt. "Why did you bring him here?"

"I..." Juliet can't find the words to explain. After that, she wasn't able to tell Millie what happened for the longest time. Wasn't capable of it, thanks to all the medicine, surveillance and locked doors. By the time she was capable, she... well, she had her reasons for staying in Amoria.

Millicent snaps her fingers and Juliet, along with Peaches, vanish from the room in golden smoke. The witch turns to Willow, wearing a pleasant smile in spite of this.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" Millicent sets her paintbrush aside. (Lucky's portrait is finished.) "Find Juliet in the cottage, without the help of your thread... or she stays here with me forever!" She cackles wildly, raising her arms towards the ceiling. "...I'm kidding." She claims after catching her breath... only to grin crookedly afterwards, wagging her eyebrows. "Or am I?" (She's kidding. Probably.)

 

[starboob]

Willow softens. ‘Millie…’ She doesn’t know what to say, but she does think she knows a small fraction of what the other woman is feeling. That terrible loneliness and fear of people leaving. Wanting them to stay forever. It’s not exactly the same, but Willow remembers what it felt like waking up to find out that her mother had run away.

She had been a kid. They had just moved in with her grandmas. Her and Leif had been racing downstairs, play fighting over who’d get the last muffin, but when they got to the kitchen, their grandmas were wearing the saddest look she’d ever seen. Leif must have thought so too, because they both straightened out immediately. When their grandmas broke the news, Willow… She couldn’t believe it. (Still can’t, in some ways.)

Somehow, her father was disaffected by it all. (That should have told her everything about him.) Yet it took her three months to accept that her mother was never coming back. That grief wiped her out for that entire summer and all through the winter, too. It was something she thought would be with her forever and it is; in some ways it still is and always will be. She isn’t certain whether she moved on or just grew around that pain, but she knows it doesn’t hurt like it used to.

Perhaps that’s because of her family and friends who had all been there for her. Even Tita Barbie, who isn’t known for being the kindest person, showed her sympathies in her own way—mostly by packing her and Leif’s lunches like she did for Clover. It was a small gesture and still let Willow know she was being looked after.

But Milfred never had that support. She only had her mom and couldn’t really rely on Juliet or Lara (is that the name of the woman Juliet used to travel with?), let alone her cousin, Nessie, to keep her company. She wonders if Jeffery Von Willigans and Milfred sought each other out because of their own loneliness. Grouchy as the possum might act, she has her suspicions that they have a soft interior and that softness might be reserved for one Milfred Saffron.

However, rather than address any of this, given Milfred’s cavalier and flippant disregard for how the events of her life have affected her, Willow sets her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. She grins at her, as warm and inviting as a patch of sun on a spring afternoon. There’s no ounce of pity in the expression, either. Just Willow James and her earnest warmth. “Okay. Let’s go find Juliet, together.” She slips her hand down the woman’s arm, lacing their hands together as they go off and search for the archer. Lucky shakes out their scales, returning them to their usual color, and shrinks down so they can take their place on Willow’s shoulder. She rubs their nose and is greeted with one of their purrs. “That portrait you did is incredible, by the way. Can I make a copy once it’s all dry? I want one for my wallet.” Willow’s wallet is already full of Lucky James pictures.

“Why would you want a copy? Stay longer and I can paint you your very own original portrait of Lucifer.” Milfred all but insists, though her voice sounds a little funny—distant, maybe? Perhaps that’s because she’s staring at their joined hands, a gesture that seems to have caught her off guard. “They’re too majestic for just a singular portrait. I fancy we should have many more of these sessions.”

Lucky trills delightedly at that idea.

A silence falls over them as they walk down a squiggly hallway, though Willow can’t say she’s really paying attention to where they are at in the cottage. (She hardly thinks that it matters either, knowing that Milfred can change the layout on a whim.) They walk by rooms overstuffed with things and Willow honestly cannot tell them apart—save for the one room that overflows with vines, branches, and flowers. That sticks out among the rest. ‘It must have been a cool house to grow up in,’ she muses to herself. It reminds her of the Rhode Island house which has always felt magical and has never lost its charm. Maybe Milfred feels the same.

Shyly, the sorceress glances over at the other caster and jumps a bit, not expecting Milfred to already be staring so intently at her, like she’s trying to dissect her inner-machinations. “You know, Millie…”

“Milfred.”

“Milfred. Right. My bad.” She has a sneaking suspicion the woman of the wood is trying to keep some of her fronts up, probably because she revealed so much earlier. Willow tilts her head, stopping their tracks for a moment. “You know, you can come with us if you’d like?”

“Nonsense!” She responds a little too quickly, a little too urgently. She lets go of Willow’s hand and shakes them in fierce rejection. “Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense. I am the witch of the wood, not the witch of—of wherever I am currently located.” She adds a defiant nod of her head, like that’s the end of that, but she continues a second later, building on her argument. “Besides, I cannot abandon Jeffery Von Willigans,” the possum hisses indiscernibly, “and they cannot abandon yet another kingdom for my whims. I already stole them away once and it would be terrible to do it thrice.”

‘Her maths is wrong…’ Willow doesn’t bring this up, however, sensing it might be a trap to steer her away from the actual crux of this problem. She won’t be baited. She is a Willow with a mission. “Well, alright. But if Jeffery Von Willigans is ever able to take some time off from their kingdom, the offer stands.” Lucky whines dramatically at this, clearly torn between the delight it would be to have their second favorite caster join them and having to suffer through that possum’s company. Willow soothes them with another nose rub.

While Milfred might be unwilling to join them at the moment, she does think getting out of her cottage would be good for her. Maybe not in Folklore, now that she’s thinking about it, but perhaps if they’re in Evermore at the same time again, she can convince her. Just for her to experience a world where she won’t be treated with disgust for being a caster. She thinks that Milfred and Meredith might get along. She can also picture both her grandmas delighting in her company. Leif will probably be terrified, but in a way that will probably please her. It might be fun to prank Kinsley together—she knows Kinsley will abhor Milfred the second she sees her, but Kinsley’s always had poor taste. She dresses like magpie bait on the regular.

After another thoughtful silence—Milfred has since taken Willow’s hand in her own, deciding she likes it—Willow addresses the situation head on. “You know you can’t keep Juliet here, right?”

“Why?” Milfred furrows her brows together, genuinely confused. “I don’t think it would be very hard. Since I’ve learned doodle casting,” that must be rune casting, “I think there’s nothing my will cannot accomplish. I am even more powerful than before—I could take over three realms if I truly desired. Just like Lucifer.” Lucifer trills happily, jumping onto Milfred’s shoulder. Jeffery Von Willigans, sensing this unsettling disturbance, hisses and thumps wildly in the walls.

“Okay, sure, you could,” Willow admits, shrugging. “But do you think she’d like that? She’s… She’s Juliet. She needs her room to roam. You can’t keep her from her freedom.”

Willow can’t tell whether or not Milfred is listening. Though she is nodding thoughtfully, she’s also distracted by Lucifer, rubbing them affectionately between the antlers and playfully baiting them with her finger, seeing if the dragon is quick enough to snap it up. (She can’t tell whether Lucifer is holding back or not. She can’t tell whether Milfred cares or not. She thinks this is part of their game.) “Look, I know you want company, but forcing it isn’t the answer. I love our visits, Milfred, and if Juliet and I weren’t busy trying to figure out this whole love mystery, I’d totally want to hang out and talk soup doodles,” she means soup and doodles, “all day. But we have our responsibilities.”

“Oh, like betraying me?” At this Milfred’s tone darkens and her eyes cut like Willow has never experienced or knew capable. She pulls her hand from Willow’s, jerking away from the sorceress. “Bringing that—that ninny of a guard into my home? And asking that I look out for him? After what he’s done??”

“You know Juliet wouldn’t have brought him here if she thought there was another option.” Willow’s insides are buzzing like nervous bees, her voice starting to quiver—it’s nothing to do with Milfred per se, but she can feel those waves of anger, resentment, betrayal all wafting off her and it hits her like a wall. “Something bad is happening in Amoria—across all of Folklore, potentially.” All that plotting she heard between the trolls and the intel she got from Flynn hints that a larger scheme is unfolding. Keeping Flynn safe might not prevent everything from collapsing, but it will prevent at least two people from getting hurt. “You know that, Milfred.”

“Perhaps,” she concedes, though Willow doesn’t think this means she’s made progress yet. “But why should I care about Amoria or any of the drama of the kingdoms? As far as I’m concerned, that is their problem. Not mine. I already have problems of my own to deal with—like making sure my cat has the shiniest coat!”

“Milfred, you know that I love you, right?” That phrase shocks the hex girl of the wood. “I haven’t known you very long, but I know that I love you. Adore you, even. And I wouldn’t ask you to care about all this if I weren’t concerned for you, too. You of all people should know how everything is connected. You won’t be spared either.” Lucky makes a sad little trill, drooping on the infernal eater of souls’s shoulder. This worry—the dragon's, not Willow's—seems to stir something in Milfred, though Willow doesn’t know what or whether it’s even good.

“We ought to have some tea,” Milfred says rather simply, making it impossible to tell whether or not she’s registered anything Willow has said. And before Willow can try to steer the conversation back to the point, she snaps her fingers and they’re all in the kitchen—Juliet and Peaches included. Though they might have been here all along, seeing as the table is spread out with all of Juliet’s favorites. (It seems that Milfred has gone to great lengths to try and get her friend to stay with her.) Diplomatically, Milfred tents her fingers together. “Are you ready to answer for your crimes against me, Juliet?”

 

[ellarose]

"Did you have to tie my hands?" Juliet asks, unimpressed as she raises her bound wrists from her lap. (Trapping her at a table full of delicious food and ensuring she can't use her hands to eat any of it is a particularly cunning trick on the witch's part. Had she grown truly desperate, however, that wouldn't have stopped her. She would've found another way... she is Juliet August, after all. It hasn't come to that point yet by the time Millie and Willow join them in the kitchen.) Peaches floats from her perch on the archer's shoulder to greet them, squeaking happily at the sight of Lucky James.

"Yes." Millicent sniffs as if it's the obvious solution, giving a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "And if you decide you still want to leave that man here with me, I will force you to watch as Willow and I eat all of your favorite foods without you." She crosses her arms defiantly, holding her head high as if she's proud of this recipe for revenge. "Are you feeling betrayed yet?"

"Millie." Juliet's quiet, even tone is the calm before a storm as her brown eyes flash warning signs across the room. Right now, it's not even about the food. (It's no secret that her appetite hasn't been quite the same since she and Gracie were separated... it's to the point that Willow has to encourage her to eat on occasion.) She tugs again at the bindings. She's already tried escaping by using her dagger... in her teeth... and the attempt ended with her dropping it. "Untie me."

"Oh, my apologies. I thought you liked being tied down." Millicent rolls her eyes, apparently ready to tempt fate... and Juliet's temper. "Isn't that why you snuck off with that murderous harpy?"

Juliet lowers her head at the insinuation, heat rising up her neck and to her cheeks. (Shame. Embarrassment. Rage.) It's her. Just the mention of Sefarina. Millie knows exactly what it does to her and now she's digging for something she can use to hurt her back... in front of an audience, no less. The archer's acutely aware of Willow James in the room with them. Does she have any idea that picking at these wounds could drive them apart?

"Damn it, Millie. You think you know everything, but you don't." Juliet snaps. For a while, the air between them is tense and silent. The tense silence stretches between them for a while before she makes an attempt at explaining her own side. "I left with her that night because she threatened to hurt you if I didn't." Willow's already seen this, through the memories that manifested in the labyrinth. If anything, she'll know it's the truth. These days, she's not sure how much she trusts her own mind and memories.

"I'm the witch of the wood!" Millie bats the notion away with a defiant scoff before leaning across the table to insist, "I could have handled her. I could have protected you. Like before."

"...Perhaps." Juliet allows, although she's not entirely certain of the witch's claim. (Nor does she want it put to the test.) "But it wasn't her intention to come after you directly. She threatened to alert the search parties. Had they found me here with you instead..." She shakes her head. "You'd have had guards invading your home with their pitchforks and torches. Worse guards than the likes of Flynn Everson."

"Gnats." Millicent flaps her hand, refusing to budge. She wrinkles her nose at just the sound of Flynn's name. "I could have handled them, too!"

"Flynn is harmless... and he has nowhere else to go. I wouldn't have brought him here otherwise." Juliet shifts to the subject of Flynn, knowing Millie's too stubborn to admit that a horde of guards barging into her home would not be good for her. Or anyone. Even if she 'handled' them, she'd have their blood on their hands... more search parties would be sent... it'd wage war with Amoria and spiral outward, making the kingdoms an even more dangerous place for casters.

"He took you away. And you didn't come back." Millie argues. Her face is twitchy, as if she knows that her arguments are becoming flimsier and flimsier now. (Juliet can't help but wonder whether or not she listened in on her conversation with Flynn the night before.) "For that, he's the worst of the worst." Her eyes gleam. "Or perhaps the second worst. What was the name of the one who convinced you to stay...?"

"I did come back. I'm here now." Juliet says quickly, pragmatically. (Don't say it. Don't.) "...But if you don't untie me, Millie, I'll leave and I won't come back."

There's no taking those words back now that they're out. But somehow, as heartrending as they are, Juliet knows she means it when she says it. Looking at her wrists... this isn't right. This isn't how this matter should be resolved. Millie may lack the experience dealing with other people, but she ought to know better. Ought to treat her better as a friend. It seems as if her words have finally struck the witch of the wood, who's looking at her as if seeing her for the first time since this visit began.

"Shouldn't it be my choice, whether I decide to leave or stay?" Juliet continues, gentle but firm. She misses Millie briefly flicking her gaze towards Willow. "I left the August home for good the other day. Mother called in a palace guard when we came to visit... it was her attempt at forcing me to stay." She did feel betrayed. And although she hates to say it... "It's not so different from this." Maybe she always returned to the August household, searching for the love she'd been promised all those years ago. She hadn't been brave enough to leave before, knowing she might cut herself off from the possibility, but... "I've been left behind, too." Her heart is pounding, so is her head. It's like she's being torn open from the inside out. Leaving Millie would be much, much harder. It's not the outcome she wants, but... "I know how much it hurts. But you can't force these things."

For a second, Millicent looks like she wants to argue this. Surely she does possess the magic to force things if she wishes to... but at what cost would that come at? She crosses her arms (or is she holding herself?) and stares at her feet.

Juliet knows from experience that fate is out of her control, as much as she hates it. The harder she holds onto someone, the more likely they are to slip through her fingers. As much as she likes to be in control, she only person she truly has control over is herself. (And even that's a challenge most days.) Sefarina tried force. Brooks tried force. They called it love... and she hates them both the very most.

"I don't want to lose you." Juliet reassures the witch of the wood, her heart pounding at the prospect of this being her last visit. At this being the end. (...Somehow, there's this part of her that's resigned to being alone at the end of everything.) "If you give me the option, I will keep coming back." She nods. "We even brought some gifts on Flynn's behalf. If you free my hands, I can give them to you."

Millicent takes a deep breath. Then she snaps and the ropes fall away and into Juliet's lap. She doesn't say anything yet, but it's an answer. I don't want to lose you, either. The archer deflates with relief. (More than she's willing to admit. After the events of the last couple of days, she's thoroughly exhausted. She's fully prepared to set her focus on the upcoming tournament instead of her relationships and her past.) After massaging some feeling back into her hands, she fishes out the murmuring mum pendant.

"I have this. It's a gift from another caster in Amoria." Juliet explains, allowing Millicent to take a look at it. "They're murmuring mums... they've been preserved, so they'll last longer. I intend to take it with me wherever I go. As long as I have it, we can talk whenever you want... within reason." (Otherwise, the witch will start contacting them at obscene hours with puns and anecdotes-- when she and Willow are trying to sleep or in the middle of important quests.) "We have a project for you, too."

"A project?" Millicent asks curiously, handing the pendant back to her. Thankfully, she appears much calmer now than before. Good. It seems like she's heard her. Judging by her occasional glances Willow's way, she suspects that the sorceress might have played a role in this as well.

Juliet glances over at Willow before taking out the wooden case in her cloak, sliding it across the table. The hexed scissors.

"If it's all right with Willow, we'll come back to visit you before we make our return to Evermore." Juliet offers. It'll keep the witch occupied while they're focused on the tournament, at least. (And it's likely for the best that they don't travel with the scissors in Amoria, knowing the potential threat they might pose if someone were to steal them. Like Ambrose.) "And during our visit, you can tell us everything you've learned about the hexed scissors."

 

[starboob]

Willow practically melts into a puddle when the archer and the hex girl of the wood reach an agreement. The tension in her shoulder unknots and even Lucky breathes a small fire of relief. (The argument tugged at the dragon as much as it had the sorceress. While Lucky James prefers Milfred to Juliet, just by a smidge, they are loyal to Willow above all else and it was never a question who their companion would pick in the end. The prospect of losing their newest caster friend would have surely shattered all three of their great dragon hearts.) Gracelessly, she slumps down into a chair between Juliet and Milfred, her legs having liquified at some point during their exchange. (She’s amazed she hadn’t fainted altogether.) She takes a moment to collect herself, her body still trembling and her throat still feeling tingly.

Lucky ducks under the table for a moment and when they come back up, they’re holding a dagger between their teeth—the one Juliet had been stabbed with just the other day. They drop it in front of Willow, like they’re presenting her with a gift. (She thinks they’re trying to comfort her, but she isn’t too sure.) She rubs their nose and they hop down from the table to curl in her lap, purring in the way that always helps bring Willow back down to baseline.

Calmer now, she picks at one of the many strawberry typhoons that have been set out, tearing off small pieces of the buttery cinnamon bread (still warm) and letting it melt on her tongue. It zings through her jaw and helps her find her words again, just as the scissors are presented on the table. She has no doubt that Milfred knows what kind of box this is and doesn’t bother to explain. However, she does summon her notebook and pen, scribbles something on the page, then sweeps her fingers over it, erasing whatever message had been written. She then hands it over to the other caster. “I hope you like puzzles.” She grins, still a little wobbly as she recovers. “Your twin has come up with a million and one different ways to hide messages, so part of your task will be getting the message to reappear, deciphering it, and and and figuring out how to unlock the box with the hint I wrote.” Obviously, she had not drawn out the actual glyph needed to unlock the box. She almost had, but then Sawyer's paranoid voice came to mind, reminding her that They are always watching. (She has never been brave enough to ask who They are.) While she isn't necessarily afraid of They (well...), she decides to exercise caution where these scissors are concerned. “No cheating. Parallel twin hints are off limits. That would spoil the surprise at the end.

“And when you do get the box open, you’re going to want these.” She snaps her fingers, magicking her dragon scale gloves into her hands. Lucky gasps when Willow slides them towards the other caster. “Don’t worry, Lucky, she’ll be responsible with them.” She wouldn’t offer them on loan otherwise and if Lucky were truly offended, they’d eat the gloves. Instead they nod slowly, eyes shifting between Willow and Milfred. Then they hop into Milfred’s lap and open their mouth in a way that says, ‘Feed meee.'

“Pish posh, I don’t need any help from my twin,” Milfred waves her hand dismissively. She picks up the gloves with one hand to inspect them and then a creampuff in the other to feed Lucifer. “I’ll have it solved before you’re even three steps away from the cottage, so the surprise better be worth it, Willow James.”

From there, Willow explains the situation in Amoria to Milfred, trying to steer clear of mentioning Flynn directly though it’s obvious who she’s talking about. She’s not sure, but she swears she catches a satisfied gleam in the hex girl’s eye as she relays what all this drama with the scissors led to. Even so, she agrees to take a look at Flynn’s injuries and is adamant that he stay in the shack. Then she rubs her temples and mutters something about having to take shifts with her twin as she’s not sure how long she can handle “the stench of an incompetent nincompoop guard.”

Willow thinks this is agreeable, though she really isn’t sure how Sawyer and Flynn are going to get on and decides there are more important things for her to worry herself with. All while talking, Willow continues to pick at the spread of foods and accidentally stuffs herself far beyond her usual capacities. This is partly because she and Milfred got into a discussion about magic—it started with Willow showing Milfred her soup spell for the talismans and the other caster offering some feedback—and she distractedly ate three strawberry typhoons all by herself. No help from Juliet or Lucky.

Needless to say, the sorceress goes into a food coma by mid-afternoon, sprawling out over the juice stain on Milfred’s living room carpet. In the meantime, Milfred and Juliet check on Flynn to name the terms of his stay. (The infernal eater of souls insists on keeping her identity a secret and wears a hypnotizing festival mask.) Lucky James tags along and Milfred decides she’ll make her final final final decision on the matter if Lucifer deems the dunderbucket worthy. Willow doesn't hear about the outcome until after her nap.

Several hours later, Willow is awoken by Jeffery Von Willigans. They’re sitting on her chest, glaring, and breathing heavily into her face. Startled, she screams, thrashes around, bringing Juliet, Lucky, and Milfred all back into the living room. Milfred keels over with laughter. Lucky hisses and has to be restrained by Juliet before they obliterate the possum. Willow’s cheeks glow bright red. Once everyone is settled, she hears about Lucky almost chewing off Flynn’s hand. Milfred can’t even tell that story because she starts laughing too hard each time she tries. But it’s what won over the caster of the wood and Willow’s still too startled to reprimand Lucky about eating the hands of allies.

By the time she fully gathers herself, she notes that it's already dark out. While Lucky is rested enough to fly them to Amoria, they compromise with Milfred and agree to stay the night and make plans to leave tomorrow at first light. Willow’s relieved by this decision too, still remembering the tense exchange between the two pseudo-sisters earlier. It probably would have been a lot for Juliet to lose all semblance of family that she has in such a short window of time. She’s glad Milfred ended up relenting and she’s glad Juliet said those hard words. She thinks they both might have needed that moment, tense and uncomfortable as it was.

Over their soup dinner, Milfred tells stories using the shadows cast on the wall. Willow also shares a few of her own. The last story she tells is about Attraction, god of the sea, and how he helped Fearless outsmart the tyrant god and, together, they managed to trap him in an undersea prison where he is supposedly held to this day. In fact, the ocean waves are said to be the tyrant god trying to break his chains.

They go to bed soon after she finishes up her last story. Willow and Juliet, of course, make a nest for themselves on the floor and Lucky takes the bed. When they wake at first light, they join Milfred for a small breakfast, say their goodbyes—even to Jeffery Von Willigans—and leave for Amoria on Lucky's back.

 

[ellarose]

The Kingdom of Amoria is all abustle with preparations for the tournament. Juliet is dreading this.

Although a good many of the shopfronts in town use flowers in their displays, now there's not a single shop to be seen without such decorations adorning them now. The Kingdom is overflowing. Every lamppost and railing has a flower garland or colorful streamer of some sort strangling it. Forcing joy upon everyone and everything, suffocating them with it. Even Nix's hidden weapons shop has a festive flower wreath hanging on the door.

Even the perpetually cheerful Peaches droops glumly, floating sadly behind them as she takes in their surroundings and senses Princess Elise's impending misery.

Given they need to avoid the August household and Cornelia Street altogether after their disastrous exit, Juliet initially suggested upon their arrival that they seek out an inn. While she purposefully avoided well-known establishments to to lessen their chances of being recognized or gossiped about, even the seediest inns Amoria has to offer are at capacity because of the tournament. While none of the royals would ever dare step foot in the places Juliet sought out, there are many people who traveled from all across the kingdoms-- even chancing Lightless encounters-- in order to be in the audience or at the very least stand outside the castle gates to take in these historic events. Men laugh and drink their overflowing goblets of ale, betting on the princes and their chances. Women fawn over their pamphlets, printed with portraits of each prince and their descriptions.

"Oh my... Devlin DeSkies is such a dreamboat!"

Dream... boat? What? Everyone is excited and frantic in their excitement. It's wrong. (Or maybe she's just traumatized.) In Juliet's mind, their smiling mouthes scratch themselves out and are replaced with demonic fangs. Eyes blink open in the shadows cast by the festive decorations. They crave a spectacle. They crave blood. Is she the only one who sees it? The archer keeps close to Willow while they walk. It's practical, because she does not wish to lose her in the crowd. (And... perhaps she does not wish to be alone in it, either.) The excess of flowers, too, are foreboding. Especially now that Willow confirmed the lullaby lilacs were the cause of her slumber and not a snake.

When their ankles began to ache from walking the crowded cobblestone streets all evening, Juliet eventually decided that they would go to Nix and see if she had any suggestions for them. Upon seeing the heroines, the blacksmith immediately broke into a crooked smile and threw her arms around them both, insisting that they stay with her and Hazel. "You look like you could use a bed, Red." She chuckled heartily to herself. "Ha! I'm such a poet." ...Needless to say, Juliet was not impressed.

It's a cramped fit in the upstairs of the shop, but Nix insists she doesn't mind. (Juliet's sure she doesn't-- that's just how Nix is. But Hazel isn't present... and it's difficult to gauge what she might think of their unexpected intrusion. She doesn't know Hazel that well, having only seen her in passing once or twice.) Garian, Nix's companion, immediately lounges across both Juliet and Willow's laps-- panting adorably and simultaneously demanding that he be pet at once. (They take turns giving the spitz companion belly rubs.) Sitting by the corner stove, they give a summarized version of what they've been through recently and then Nix tells them more about the recent state of Amoria and the upcoming tournament.

"The flowers were left at every doorstep. We're all required to hang 'em up for the duration of the tournament." Nix explains the wreath on the door. "Guess they're supposed to change colors depending on which prince ranks the highest? They're shades of blue, white and yellow right now since Prince Devlin is the favorite to win." She rolls her eyes. "Strokin' their pretty little egos is what it is. Queen Viviane's doing everything in her power to make up for the Princess's stunt."

Juliet glances warily at Willow, wondering if she's feeling equally unnerved about the overwhelming amount of flowers. Wondering if there's a hidden, sinister purpose to them that goes beyond Queen Viviane slapping a salve over the princes wounded egos.

"Prince Devlin." Juliet tests the name on her tongue. It's sticky, somehow. (Kind of like Evermore's edible clouds after they harden, which his hair resembles in his portrait. There's also the feathery wings on his back, which have the same quality.) She remembers hearing many of the women speaking his name in particular. She wrinkles her nose. "...The fluffy one. I cannot say I understand the appeal."

Garian huffs loudly, as if to remind them all that he is the fluffy one here. Nix, meanwhile, snorts and then bursts into unstoppable peels of laughter. She slaps her thigh a couple of times before it turns into a fit of coughs. "Oh, you're killin' me, Jules." Juliet blinks, confused. (She is not killing her.) She doesn't understand. "The fluffy--" Nix is laughing again. Whenever she starts to say the word 'fluffy', it becomes apparent that she can't squeeze out another word through her laughter. Peaches squeaks, amused and cheering up a bit for the first time since they arrived in Amoria. "Fluffy prince."

"...What is going on out here?" Hazel stands in the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Ah. So she's not away somewhere... she must have been sleeping. It is late, after all. Nix's laughter quiets right away when she realizes what she's done, the guilt washing over her face immediate.

"Oh no. I'm sorry, Peanut. I woke you up." Nix is on her feet right away, rushing to her wife's side to scoop her affectionately in her arms. (It's apparent, seeing them side by side, that Nix is much taller than Hazel. Juliet wonders if that is why she calls her 'Peanut'. All of these comparisons to food leave her feeling rather hungry.) "Let's get you back to bed--"

"Hold on." Hazel presses a hand to Nix's chest to stop her from steering her away when she realizes they have company. "Who have you brought in here this time?"

Juliet massages her temples. Ah, she didn't want to overstep. Knowing how Nix is... she was worried this might happen. (Hazel says this as if it happens regularly, too. The archer is not surprised by this at all.)

"Red. You know, Red!" Nix pauses and then lowers her voice to elaborate. "The... the heroines." She fidgets and scratches her cheek awkwardly, reduced from a boisterous blacksmith to a guilty little child in front of her wife. "They needed a place to stay, Peanut."

"...I see." Hazel says, glancing across the room at them. She doesn't necessarily look mad. Just curious. Maybe a bit stern. "And you've offered them nothing to eat or drink yet? Nixie, we've talked about this. Where are your manners?" She huffs and waves her hand stubbornly when Nix tries to kiss her on the nose. "I'll go put the kettle on."

Nix follows after her wife like a puppy, insisting that she can do it instead so that she can go back to sleep. Hazel brushes her off, sleepily mumbling something about Nix almost setting their house on fire last time. They end up making tea and sweet smelling biscuits together before rejoining them. Nix takes her time, finding every possible appealing word to introduce her beautiful wife. Shyly, said beautiful wife waves off her praise. After that, they resume the conversation from earlier with Hazel's insight.

"...All of the princes have arrived in Amoria but one. Prince Jayden Darling." Hazel explains, pointing to one of the portraits in her pamphlet. Darling. The description beneath the picture says that he's a prince hailing from... what? Wonderland of all places? Juliet furrows her brow, visibly confused. "Queen Viviane delayed the tournament on his behalf, waiting to hear word from him." She nods at Juliet's confusion. "However, many people believe that his entry is no more than a prank... no one's ever heard of a prince from Wonderland before."

"I heard some gossips in the market saying it was an effort on the Princess's part to delay the tournament." Nix adds with a sympathetic sigh. "The tournament is set to begin in two days, whether this Prince Jayden shows or not." She snorts, looking down at his portrait again. Specifically at his red hair. "Or should I say Prince Red?"

Prince Red. Juliet glances over at Willow, wondering if she's beginning to have the same idea that she is. If this is all just a setup from Princess Elise, after all...

 

[starboob]

‘Blacksmith wives.’ This is Willow’s single most coherent thought once the blacksmith wives are both present. Her cheeks flush from secondhand cuteness and Lucky has to bat her chin a few times when her staring becomes too obvious and, even then, she’s unable to keep her cool. ‘Be cool. Be cool.’ It’s physically impossible for Willow to be cool in front of blacksmith wives.

And, really, can she be blamed? Aside from being blacksmith wives, they’re so sweet with each other. So soft. It’s the exact kind of love she wants and has been searching all her life for. (Their thread shifts, becoming sparkly and pink from Willow’s end, zinging over to Juliet’s side as if to offer a subtle hint.) It’s a warm playful love. It reminds her of her grandmas. It reminds her of Crimson and Clover. It reminds her of Ryan and Jessie—it probably reminds her of them the most. Especially when Nix showers her wife with compliments. Ryan is notorious for that—even when she dated Willow. (And, like Hazel, Willow always tried to wave it off or would bury her face in Ryan’s shoulder. Jessie seems to like the praise more, but even she’ll roll her eyes on occasion.) Ahh, she doesn’t know if Juliet is the compliment type, though she supposes she’d be fine without the constant spotlight. Still, she wonders what their future might look like, if they decide to pursue their thread. (That if haunts Willow.)

She tries her best to focus on the conversation, but every casual display of affection sends her heart soaring upwards into space and all she can hear are the most romantic songs she knows playing in the background. ("Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you.") She vaguely understands that they’re talking about the tournament, but only because there really isn’t much else on anybody’s mind with the kingdom decked in flowers and bright banners.

Earlier, while roaming the kingdom, Willow had collected one of those prince pamphlets from a pub and leafed through it a few times while Juliet tried to find them somewhere to stay (far away from Cornelia Street). She’s hesitant to form her opinion so soon, but given that they’re competing for the Princess’s hand in marriage when they already know who she wants to marry and who she’s threaded to, she does think they’re all varying degrees of trash.

The pamphlet includes all their portraits, a small account of their accomplishments, and a quote about the Princess of Amoria. Some promise to be the man who will defend her kingdom; others promise that she'll always have the finest jewels in all of Folklore; a few waxed poetically about her beauty. Prince Devlin DeSkies—annoyingly handsome and boyish—had the most romantic answer, easily. He wrote a freaking sonnet. Or had a sonnet written about Elise. Willow isn’t necessarily convinced he didn't have a ghost author working for him.

As she registers that the topic has shifted over to Prince Jayden Darling, she idly flips the pamphlet around to his short bio. For the most part, she's still focused on admiring the blacksmith wives. Lucky flicks her chin with their tail. She bristles and quickly looks down at the pamphlet she’s studied a hundred times over by now. Jayden's quote talks about being Elise’s penpal as children and how he only desires to meet his childhood friend after they lost touch. (One too many messengers got lost trying to find the palace in Wonderland.) She likes the flair Elise has chosen for this one, assuming he is fabricated. And if he is real? She can appreciate that he only wants to meet an old friend. It’s not winning him any favors with the spectators, however, seeing as the magicked pamphlet shows him at the very bottom of the list—lower than even King Cayman. While this could also be because people assume he is a joke, she still cannot believe that king is not at the bottom.

She sets the pamphlet down then places the plate of biscuits over it. No more of that.

“Juliet did yooouu—” she trails off, catching the archer’s glance. She recognizes the scheme without needing an explanation. It’s obvious. “Oh.” She looks between the portrait and Juliet, answering her only with a shrug. “I wonder if he’ll show.” By that she means, ‘Let’s meddle.’

Not too soon after that, the conversation peters out and the blacksmith wives pull out some extra blankets and pillows for the heroines to use, explaining they’ll have to share the couch. The heroines don’t seem to mind—Willow is particularly excited by the idea of trying to squeeze onto the narrow space, knowing there’s potential for snuggling. Then Hazel shows them that the couch they’d been sitting on is actually a rolled up hay stuffed mattress. Snuggling potential is still there, Willow privately notes, but she isn’t sure it will actually happen since they can still easily sleep side by side.

They thank the wives and are then left alone. Before settling fully into bed, Willow throws the blankets over both their heads and casts two quick spells—one to prevent noise from escaping and another to give them a bit of light. Peaches squeaks, excited about this secret meeting. Willow summons her small cauldron and a flower she nicked from one of the garlands wrapped around a lamppost. “Do you think Prince Jayden is real?” She starts there, simultaneously lifting the lid of the cauldron. She fishes around what remains of the soup for Lucky’s baby tooth and Scaramouch. Aside from adopting a faint glow, the objects remain unchanged. “If he’s not real… What are the chances of the other royals catching on if ‘Prince Jayden’ were to show?” Willow doesn’t think she has the influence or power to hex an entire kingdom into believing in a fake prince. She's not like Charming Street. “In some ways, it'd be a lot easier if he were real. Then I could just put a spell on you so that you look like him and put the real Jayden under a sleep spell or something,” she shrugs, as if this is totally casual. “Regardless, can I be your squire?”

After securing her tooth to a strip of leather cord, she secures the talisman around her neck. She pauses, changing topics. “Do you want a Scaramouch necklace?”

She then takes a look at the flower, twirling it between her fingers. “I’m not attune to plants as much, but I know magic.” Nix confirmed that the flowers have been magicked in some way to reflect the outcomes of the tournament, but Willow doesn’t think these are ordinary flowers. “Remember how the flowers leading up the steps to the palace turned to thorns when I tried to poke them last time? Either that situation has passed or Queen Viviane has tampered with these.” Again, duh. “Like, I think they’re synthetic. Something just feels particularly off about what’s holding them together.” Dorothea would be able to confirm this with absolution, but she’s not here and Willow doesn’t know how to contact her from here. She doesn’t even know if it would be safe to do so. “The apothecary might know.”

 

[ellarose]

"Wonderland is a mysterious and nonsensical place. Although little is known about it, many of the stories I heard as a girl imply that there are indeed kingdoms within Wonderland. The violent and unpredictable Queen of Hearts is the most well-known. Very few people have claimed to have met her... though I suppose very few people would survive such a meeting." Juliet explains thoughtfully, twisting a lock of hair around her finger (while she still can) and biting her lip as she considers all of the stories Lara told her. Difficult to find, difficult to navigate. Difficult to understand. And yet she dreamed of seeing it with Lara someday. Despite the dangers, everything in Wonderland is made to sound more vibrant, more exciting and magical than the rest of the wood. Like a child's fantasy. There's something inherently ridiculous and appealing about it's confusing nature. Lara often corrected her, claiming that it preyed on children like her. 'The allure is part of Wonderland's danger, Juliet. You must not seek it out.'

"There's been no mention of any princes until now, as Hazel said. But even so, none of them will possess the authority to deny Jayden's existence if he does appear. The Queen has even gone as far as to delay the tournament on his behalf." Juliet sighs softly. "I presume most will be immediately suspicious of him, though. Especially King Cayman." Given that he supposedly traveled through Wonderland to claim 'his' kingdom and all. But it goes without saying at this point that they'll need to be careful of King Cayman. It may even work in their favor if he doubts Jayden's existence. People will immediately suspect him thanks to his reputation across the kingdoms. He's wronged many of the princes, having stolen potential marriage prospects through his trickery and transformation curses. Ruining their allies with his schemes.

The ranking in the pamphlet tells her that 'Jayden' has a very long way to climb... but she thinks it's better, starting from the bottom in the shadows than starting at the top with a spotlight shining on her-- liable to highlight each mistake. It is strange, though, that King Cayman is not at the bottom of the ranking himself. Hm. It would be better if King Cayman knew absolutely nothing of this 'Jayden Darling'. If this prince of Wonderland is real and he does indeed know of him, then... there is no telling what might happen if he catches onto their rouse.

"It will be fine. I have grown used to being suspected." Juliet admits, her brown eyes mesmerized in the glow under the blankets as she watches Willow's hands move above the cauldron. "...It may be easier, acting as someone other than myself for a while." It's confessional and upon realizing that, she blushes. (It's this atmosphere... the tiredness of their travels and navigating the crowded streets weighing on her shoulders, softening her. That's all.) "Jayden Darling. If he is real, I wonder what he's like." She changes the subject, shifting it to the persona she's about to adopt. Admittedly, his name does sound a little familiar. It's like having a strange dream, knowing she had a strange dream, and then being unable to remember all of the details afterwards. "He seems rather mild-mannered from his description, does he not? I suppose I can try that."

Juliet's blush returns when Willow asks if she can be her squire and if she would like a Scaramouch necklace. She nods when words fail her. Yes, she would like that very much. (She cannot help imagining Willow as her squire... but as herself rather than a man. Kneeling and offering her the necklace. Scaramouch is green, just like her eyes.) Snapping herself out of this trance, she hurriedly seeks a distraction and ends up looking at Peaches.

Princess Elise. That's right. Juliet shuffles around, searching for a piece of parchment and a quill among their things. "We should ask Princess Elise what she knows of Prince Jayden." She hesitates and then begins to write. (Perhaps she's paranoid, but she writes it in such a way that hints at their intentions without explicitly revealing them. Just in case it ends up in the wrong hands.) The princess's companion curiously follows the movements of the quill, peering down at the page as if she can read it. "I suspect she might have come up with the prince herself... but there is a possibility that may not be the case. We should be certain first." The archer sighs after writing her questions and begrudgingly adds 'Flynn is safe.' knowing she'll wish to know that above all else.

Folding the letter, Juliet tucks it safely into Peaches's bubble. The princess's companion is small, will know where to find her, and also be discreet. They can trust her to take it where it's meant to go. "Will you deliver this to Princess Elise for us?"

Peaches squeaks eagerly, overjoyed that she gets to play a part in their newest schemes. She affectionately nuzzles against Juliet's nose (once again bringing a rosy red to her cheeks) before doing the same to Willow and Lucky and then spiriting herself out the window.

"All right. We can pay the apothecary a visit tomorrow. We do have two days to prepare before the tournament begins." Juliet points out when Willow brings up the suspicious nature of the flowers and the apothecary. "Let's use them to gather information about Prince Jayden Darling and the plants." It's best that she learns more about her role before she dares to play it. She highly doubts that any of the rumors floating about Amoria's streets will hold even a semblance of truth-- but knowing their opinions will help her to perfect her act and perhaps subvert their expectations. And if he is real and happens to make an appearance before then, it will give them time to adjust their strategy accordingly.

"We will need to find disguises as well." And that will be easier said than done. If Juliet is caught purchasing the same clothes that the prince of Wonderland wears before the discerning eyes of the kingdom, it will not take long before rumors spread and they're discovered. "Do you have anything in your bag that we could use? I could try to sew something unique."

They spend the next hour discussing their plans for the next day-- primarily the different shops, restaurants, and streets they plan to visit in order to gather intel. It's beyond late-- and eventually they end up yawning and agreeing that they ought to get some rest before daylight.

It isn't until the next morning that Peaches returns with a response from Princess Elise. Juliet is still rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she unfolds the letter. The princess's usually neat handwriting is tiny and slightly smudged, indicating that she must have written it discreetly and in a rush. (She must be busy with her own preparations for the tournament.) To the archer's surprise, the princess did not create Prince Jayden herself. However, she has not denied his existence to anyone who has asked, either. She mentions not being entirely sure if she had a pen pal by that name-- mentioning that it could indeed be possible and she simply does not remember. And then she goes onto suggest that she will happily play along with the story, should their rouse succeed.

The princess's support will offer Prince Jayden's existence more credibility. Even so, now there really is no telling whether or not a real Prince Jayden will end up making an appearance. (...And if he isn't real, then who created him? And why?) Regardless, this information does not deter Juliet from the idea of taking on his role. It was going to be a risk no matter what. She furrows her brow, focused and deep in thought as she hands Princess Elise's letter over to Willow. "...Let's go see what we can learn about this Prince Jayden Darling."

 

[starboob]

Willow takes a look over the princess’s note, her mind already working through various contingencies and how they might go about this scheme. Knowing that Prince Jayden Darling’s existence has not been confirmed nor denied at least lets them know that it will be safe to assume his role. Juliet’s already got the hair for it and she knows enough about the princess that she can reasonably pass as a childhood penpal. Morphing her features to look like Jayden’s portrait should be a cinch as well. It’s the prince actually showing up that could become their biggest hurdle. Willow is willing to put him under a powerful sleep spell, but she would rather get a sense of his motives. If he is a potential ally to Elise—a childhood friend forgotten after years and years of separation—perhaps the three of them can team up. Still, she is hoping he doesn’t show up altogether and something tells her the fates might not be so kind.

After leaving a thank you note and a pair of knit socks each for their hostesses, they make their slow trek up to the busier districts. They’re careful to avoid areas where nobles or their housestaff might linger and, earlier, they even went to extra lengths to ensure they blend in with the crowds. Though Willow gets away with keeping her elf garb, she ditches the flight jacket and even has Lucky shrink down so they can curl on her ear—too many people already know the heroine from Evermore has a dragon companion and she reckons after their Cornelia Street exit that Lucky will draw more eyes towards them. As much as Lucky shines under the spotlight, they need to keep a low profile. Willow even suggests that Juliet take the white cloak she stole from her their first night together and hide her hair under it. She makes it very clear that this is for the purpose of being sneakity-sneaky.

Their first stop is one of the busier restaurants attached to one of the largest inns in Amoria. They take a seat at a corner table, keeping their eyes on the crowd while pretending to engage in conversation themselves. (Willow offers some advice she learned from being a theater kid, explaining words that are good to mouth when faking a conversation.) It’s packed enough that they’re practically bumping elbows with the parties surrounding them and don't have to worry much about being noticed.

What they hear is nothing new compared to yesterday. Women are ogling over the prince pamphlets and making some rather crude remarks about their swords. Men are laughing over Prince Devlin and what a mockery he would be if he were to become king, claiming that if Amoria is to have a pansy for a king, they’ll challenge Devlin for the throne themselves. The innkeeper quickly tells them to hush and worriedly looks towards a garland hanging inside of the establishment.

With that reminder, Willow and Juliet quietly pay their bill and leave for the apothecary. Madam Mosley’s shop similarly has a wreath on the door and there is a garland draped over the counter. The little bell dings to announce their entrance and Mosley calls from the backs, “Just a minute, dears. Help yourselves to a biscuit—they’re not soaps this time.”

The heroines wait patiently at the counter. Willow munches quietly on a biscuit and offers the rest to Lucky, who grows large enough to swallow the biscuit whole then shrinks back down. The older woman appears from the back of the shop with a warm smile, not at all seeming surprised that the heroines have made their way back to her shop. “No stab wounds this time?”

“I’ve been keeping her out of trouble, ma’am.” Willow nudges Juliet’s side teasingly. “I was wondering if I could take a look at your stores in the back? I’m looking for this rare ingredient for one of my grandmas’ famous teas. Been feeling a little homesick.” As she talks, she sets the flower she clipped on the counter to indicate what she might actually want to talk about. The apothecary hums thoughtfully and motions for them to follow her into the back storeroom. There are no garlands here, but Mosley still makes sure the curtains are all drawn before she signals that it’s fine for them to talk. “Do you know what these flowers are all about? Do they feel strange to you?”

“Yes,” Mosley starts slowly, removing her glasses and letting them hang around her neck by their chain. She picks up the flower Willow had brought in and holds it over a candle. As the petals heat up, getting closer to burning, the petals blacken all at once then pull together to shoot into a three-inch thorn. The way Mosley had pinched the former flower keeps her from getting impaled. “The Queen seems to have taken a note of the changing auras in Folklore’s flowers and has had these specially curated to protect the kingdom.”

“So they are real flowers?”

“They are indeed, but they were grown and fed a very specific diet to alter their nature. Here.” She sets the thorn back on the table and waves her hand over it, willing it back to its original shape. “Watch carefully.”

Willow’s eyes narrow as she watches the flower. It doesn’t appear to be doing much, but the longer she stares, she starts to notice a slight movement in the petals not inspired wind or other movement. Every few seconds the petals all flick out, then back in almost like— “A heartbeat?”

The apothecary nods. “I suspect these flowers were fed a small droplet of royal blood and have peculiar loyalties to the royal family of Amoria. It’s a clever safety measure,” she admits. “With so many royals in one place, some of them scorned… Some of them having already made attempts for this throne, I see the Queen’s logic.” She shares a look with Juliet, then returns her attention to the heroines both. “I am dubious of them still. Myself and colleagues may need to keep a low profile for a while. I advise you do the same, Willow James.”

Willow nods solemnly at the warning, though Mosley seems to know that the sorceress will not be heeding the advice. She adds, “Just be careful. Royals are not to be trifled with.”

Before they leave the shop, the apothecary gives them both small pouches full of dried flower petals, herbs, and spices. When Willow opens hers, the smell is overwhelmingly pleasant and though it doesn’t smell like thyme, honey, and lavender, it still somehow brings back the feeling of home. “A protective charm. I… You’re both so young.” She frowns, her worry deep set in her wrinkles. “Be safe, my dears.”

Willow fastens her pouch to her necklace and offers to help Juliet secure hers to Scaramouch's. Though it's comforting to know they have allies, the warning hangs in the air between them. Lucky even seems to feel it, growing antsy enough that they can’t help flitting between the heroines as discreetly as they can manage.

Both quietly agree to distract themselves by continuing to gather information as they browse through shops and pass through taverns, pubs, and other eateries. Juliet shows Willows common fabrics and patterns in Folklore, giving her some ideas of the clothes they can repurpose from her warehouse in a backpack. They also purchase a few cheap accessories that Willow’s certain she can dress up to look befitting for a prince. And while they do their idle shopping, stopping frequently for little snack breaks, they catch onto the fact that while Devlin is still the most highly anticipated prince, Jayden apparently made his way through the dreams of several women and men alike. The first couple of times they heard of this, it was shrugged off as mere coincidence but as they continued to hear these tales, both started to take note.

In some dreams, he appeared as a savior, classically rescuing damsels from evil wizards or fearsome dragons. (Willow had to quiet Lucky before they got too upset by the dragon slander.) In others, he composed comedies to bring maidens up from their tears. Men boasted of his heroics in their dreams, claiming the prince swept in to save them during battle. Although others claimed he had trouble finding the handle of a sword. Then there were some who spoke about his tactless nature, accidentally spurning women when something more interesting caught his eye.

The sorceress doesn’t know what to make of any of these dreams. The accounts are inconsistent, but given the number of people who have been talking about a dream featuring Jayden, she also doesn’t think it’s something to ignore. In fact, when Willow looks at her pamphlet again, Jayden’s profile has moved up three spots. Cayman has also somehow moved up in the ranks and based on what she’s heard, she’s guessing it’s because some are trying to swear early loyalty even if they aren’t particularly keen on him. None have confidence that Devlin will be able to defeat him, thinking he’s too soft from a man like Cayman. The only prince they think could stand a chance is one named Evren. Aside from being older than most of the other princes, his portrait also shows his clear size. He barely fits within the frame. (He probably doesn't have a higher rank because he's quite ugly, looking more like a beast than a man. Supposedly, he might be cursed.)

By the end of the day, they’ve mostly just gathered that there’s a layer of mystery to Jayden—or rather, they once again confirm he’s more myth than real. This suits their purposes well enough, especially since there has been no announcement of his arrival, making it all the more likely that they’ll be able to take his place.

As they settle into a back booth in a seedy tavern, Willow sitting at the edge of her seat as they go over their plan, she subtly suggests, “If he doesn’t show tomorrow, I think he’ll show right when the tournament starts. It would be a dramatic entrance, fitting his air of mystery. If he shows at all, of course.” This also serves as another reminder for them to be careful with staging his entrance. She blows out a raspberry and plucks a roast potato from Juliet's plate, popping it into her mouth. “Do you think we can see the princess tomorrow? I want to give her a good luck hug.” As well as the letter from Flynn. She might be needing that now more than ever. “And maybe she'll have a place for us to get into our arts and crafts.” AKA, making Juliet's costume and perfecting the disguise.

 

[ellarose]

"It will be quite difficult for us to contact the princess directly." Juliet admits, considering the busy days of preparation before her own wedding. (Ugh.) And while the tournament itself is not a wedding, it is a step meant to lead to a wedding. The eyes of her kingdom and many others will be on her. Princess Elise will undoubtedly be swarmed with an entourage of castle staff at all hours of the day, ensuring she knows how she is meant to carry herself. With King Cayman in Amoria, she suspects that she'll have at least two guards with her at all times. Queen Viviane has likely prepared for the possibility that Princess Elise might try to meddle or run from her fate. There will be eyes on the princess at all times. "We were fortunate to receive word from her this morning. Any contact we attempt to make with her from this point onward must be especially sneaky-sneaky."

Juliet does not know the contents of Flynn's letter, nor does she wish to read it to find out. (It's private and will undoubtedly make her cringe.) Regardless, they'll have to be especially careful with their timing when they give it to her. Princess Elise likely wouldn't have hesitated to dispose of the brief letter Juliet sent the night before, in order to ensure their plans are not discovered. But she is sentimental and will not wish to dispose of Flynn's the same way. (...Although the archer does not wish this fate upon them, it could indeed be the last time she ever hears from him.) There's no telling what might happen if that letter is confiscated from the princess or discovered by a lady's maid. It could put Flynn at risk again... and Millie by association.

It reminds Juliet of the unread stack of letters among her own belongings. How she could not bring herself to dispose of them and still cannot. Whenever the thought crosses her mind, asking herself why, she immediately banishes it. It's just... the letters aren't truly meant for Juliet, are they? They were written before Willow even knew her name, addressed to the mysterious concept of the person at the other end of her thread... the person she's going to love someday. But after meeting her, perhaps she (reasonably) does not foresee herself loving someone like Juliet. She may ask for them back when she remembers. (Perhaps she will give them to Sawyer instead.) And if the day ever comes where she asks for them back, Juliet should have them ready for her. She cannot bear to imagine how hurt Willow would be if she learned that Juliet cast them aside after she undoubtedly worked for hours on them.

Juliet may be inherently unlovable, she may have her secrets, but she isn't heartless. She wouldn't do that to her.

"...However, we could still make a visit to the castle. After all," Juliet keeps her voice low, brushing those thoughts aside in favor of planning their next move. "The queen should be made aware if there are any suspicious or overtly dangerous individuals staying in Amoria. Those who are prone to violent outbursts and stabbing young ladies in the road, for instance." She nods, knowing that Willow will understand what she means. They could deliver the dagger to the castle, warn the queen. (...Yes, as much as Juliet would like to keep the dagger for herself. Seeing as she was stabbed with it, she should be allowed to keep it.) That is part of their role as heroines, thus it would not be particularly strange. "He may have been afflicted with the sickness. The heroines ought to be near during the tournament, should the unthinkable occur." With that logic, they may be able to secure themselves a room in the castle without drawing any suspicion. There are many other people to worry about, too, based on the information they've learned from Flynn. Ambrose, for instance, and the plans that the trolls were speaking of.

***​

They climb the ungodly amount of castle steps and arrive at the doors only to find that the queen, princess, and even Ambrose are much too busy with preparations to grant them a formal audience. However, the guards escort them inside and the castle staff are eager to welcome them. And as it turns out, they were indeed expecting them for the duration of the tournament. Apparently, the queen had sent an official request for their presence... and sent it to the August household. And as everyone now knows (largely thanks to the eye catching nature of their escape) Juliet has not been present to receive it. With so many visitors in Amoria, there's no telling how many Lightless cases may arise. And not even royals are immune to the sickness. If they're near, they can be called upon quickly to take care of things. Of course the queen would want them there while hosting so many people.

"While we do have the protection of the guards, it will indeed set everyones minds at ease to have you heroines present." The maid guiding them to their room mentions shyly, offering them a kind smile. The castle halls are jam-packed with frantic staff and their companions, cleaning, dusting and polishing everything in sight-- from the marble floors to the chandeliers. The maids they pass in the halls appear relieved to see them as well. Juliet can only imagine the things they must have seen and heard thus far, having to accommodate the requests of so many royals. (They surely must know if some of their visitors are displaying symptoms.)

"Have all of the princes arrived?" Juliet asks the maid conversationally, sneaking a glance over at Willow. This maid will know better than anyone on the streets if Prince Jayden Darling has made an appearance yet.

"All but Prince Jayden Darling, my lady." The maid confirms with a thoughtful hum.

"I see." Juliet nods. She refrains from asking anything more. At least for now. They'll have to tread carefully around the subject.

While they're in the castle, they'll likely learn right away when Jayden Darling appears. (...If he appears.) They'll have to be careful with their timing. Should she masquerade as him, she'll have to make her appearance at the last possible moment.

"I suppose Prince Jayden Darling intends to be 'fashionably late'." Juliet muses when she and Willow are left alone in their room. (Is she using the terminology right this time? Willow did explain it to her, but...) Since it's long past dinnertime, they'll have more time to gather intel from inside the castle and perhaps visit with the queen and princess tomorrow. For now, they do have a couple of projects to work on. They won't have much time to assemble an entire wardrobe for these characters they may or may not be assuming. "And now we must ensure he has a wardrobe fit for a prince." She bites her lip and then glances at Willow's bag. "...Someone may discover our supplies if we aren't careful. Do you think we could work inside of your bag?"

There is plenty of space within it, after all, and no one will catch them in the middle of a project. Juliet releases a soft sigh, tension from the day melting from her shoulders as it catches up with her that they're alone now. (She held herself well, but it was trying to navigate the crowds all day.)

"We'll have to be careful if we decide to go through with this. We cannot be in two places at once." Juliet tilts her head, considering Willow's mirrorball and the doubles she's utilized before. "Unless... you have a spell for that?" It will be convenient, having a room in the castle for the duration of the tournament. Their presence from this point forward will not draw any undue suspicion. However, it will also make their rouse all the more challenging to uphold if a transformation does occur. "If not, I suppose we can find places to hide and switch back and forth. I am sure the princess might have suggestions as well, if we can speak with her about it in private."

 

[starboob]

This is not Willow James’s first all-nighter. Being a grad student, these late night study sessions—in their case, a scheming and sewing session—are nothing new and because they are not new, she is well prepared. A pot of wakey-wakey potion (coffee) is brewing in the pantry/mini-kitchen area of the warehouse while they sift through her assortment of clothes in the wardrobe section. Two piles sit in front of them; one for ‘definitely not’ and one for ‘this is workable.’ Though her Evermore wardrobe typically outs her as the heroine from the other side, being able to build a Wonderland costume from it serves as a rare advantage. Not only because so little is known about the area, but because what is known (along with what is speculated) is so bizarre. Prince Jayden Darling's portrait even reflects some outlandish fashion choices and that's coming from an actual outlander.

The timer for the coffee dings. (It goes without saying that this jolts the sorceress, causing her to drop the socks she had been holding.) Once she massages her heart enough times, she rises, collecting the socks and throwing them in the 'definitely not' pile. (They're cute, but the duck print is too loud for Folklore.) "Cream? Sugar?" she asks, stepping through the mirror portal into the pantry/mini-kitchen.

After fixing their potions, she returns, sets the cups down between them, and settles herself closer to the workable clothes pile. They have the portrait of the prince enlarged and floating between the piles for reference. At this point, she's looked at it so many times she could probably draw it from memory (if she were any good at drawing), but upon staring at it again her eyes narrow. "Is his..." She gets up onto her knees, shuffling closer. It is. "His coronet is a broken a teacup. Why?" It's a fancy broken teacup, sure, but it's so obviously different from the other princes and their gilded crowns. (It makes her all the more curious about Wonderland and its customs.) "I guess I can work with that." She mumbles more to herself than to Juliet, summoning up a few tea sets for them to consider. (She places the teacup that has cat butts printed all over it into the 'definitely not' pile.)

With her clothes sufficiently sorted through, Willow has Juliet put on the costume suit she wore in Okeanos and takes some measurements. The sheer number of garments that they're going to have to make necessitates the use of magic—they basically have to create enough clothes for a small village and that village needs to have some citizens in casual wear, tournament wear, and fancy-shmancy wear. It's a lot.

Juliet and Willow's magicked supplies take care of the clothing materials while Willow leans over a table, inspecting the accessories they purchased earlier. She taps a ring a few times, manipulating the shine of the painted gold as well as the shimmer of the glass gemstone. “I should mention..." She bites her lip, twisting the ring between her fingers. “These spells might not hold the entire day. Transformation magic can be especially persnickety, especially if certain objects want to reject their change. Some might like their new forms, but it's hard to tell which pieces are going to behave. I can guarantee the spells for a few hours at a time, but I may need to boost them throughout the tournament. We’ll have to be sneaky-sneaky about that.”

This also reminds her that not only does Jayden (and his handsome, scrappy squire) need to be present at the tournament, but the heroines will need to show face as well. Again, she bites her lip. “I can make doubles of myself pretty well." She's being humble. She can make superb doubles of herself. She is the literal expert on the subject. "But making one of you…?” She blows out a raspberry, scratching the top of her head. “The physical body will be a cinch." Especially the arms. She could never ever mess up Juliet's arms. (Or her hair, her eyes, the way they both drink in sunlight...) "It's duplicating your personality that I'm worried about. Your double might be... weird." Willow has never had a reason to make a double of another person before—at least not down to the personality. So while she knows she can make the body, she suspects that the personality is going to be an amalgam of her impression of Juliet, her own personality, and whatever environmental factors are at play when she creates the double. "I do think it's worth trying. It would be better for our cover, ultimately. And if your double is too weird, we'll just figure something else out."

Finished with the first set of rings and brooches, as well as a teacup coronet, she hands them off for Juliet to inspect. She waits, drums her fingers against the table, thinking of the other factors that they'll need to consider to ensure their own safety (and the safety of the royal family.) “Were you surprised to learn about Ambrose?” she asks when Juliet slides the pieces back over. “He did seem… cross?” —is she using that correctly?— “after Elise’s announcement, but I just assumed that was because of her stunt and the headache it was going to cause him." Willow can't say whether or not she's surprised about his allegiances. She doesn't know the man. And as her thoughts linger on the queen's advisor, she begins to speculate aloud. “He can’t be working alone. Unless he's really well connected, I just don't see him being able to have a connection to hexed scissors and be able to hide that he acquired them. There are too many curious eyes in Amoria." She takes a sip of her fourth cup of coffee, legs bouncing under the table. (Oof, her heart is going very fast.) "Aside from the princess and Sir Everson," and she isn't entirely sure whether he's necessarily an ally, "who else can we trust?"

It almost seems like they're eyebrows deep in enemy territory when she thinks about it. Willow doesn't particularly trust the queen or most of the court nobles. They all seem to serve themselves or their families most of all, with little regard for the consequences of their actions. That Queen Viviane believes she can have the heroines at her beck and call—sending them first to Okeanos for her walnut brother and now asking for the presence at the tournament—is proof and heats her veins. "After the tournament, I don't want to prioritize Queen Viviane's desires. I know she's powerful, I know she's an ally, and she needs to know we're not her champions. We're here for freaking love. It's insulting that herself and the other nobles insist that their cases have priority." This reminds her of her first interaction with Lavinia Laurence. Juliet was right back then to point out the nobles could stand to gain something if they did some inner work on their selfish personalities. "I mean, we don't need to do anything now. I won't do anything now." Not that she really can imagine herself standing up to the queen, even if she's thought about it. "But at some point, that needs to be made clear." It's just a matter of identifying the appropriate opportunity.

"Here." Willow pushes over some more accessories for her companion to inspect. These ones, notably, are not jewels and are more whimsical, mostly based on what she imagines a prince from Wonderland might have. They include a magicked paintbrush (something Meredith left at her place) that can change the color of any object; a few vials of a laughing potion (for fun); a snack pouch full of granola (this one is honestly just for Juliet); and a pocket watch that has a mirror face inside (in case they’re separated and need to contact each other).

At this point, most of Juliet's wardrobe is complete and Willow’s only takes a few minutes to assemble, being significantly simpler. She just looks like a playing card. (Apparently, that’s a thing in Wonderland.) The main piece is a simple white tunic with an ace design she peeled from a card deck she has. With the costumes finished, they put on the completed ensemble to get used to their new identities. Willow is flexing in front of the mirror when she gasps, a sudden realization hitting her. “I won’t be allowed to hug the princess like this, will I?" She whirls around in her squire disguise, looking the definition of distraught. "Will I be allowed to hug anyone? Are we allowed to hug?” Maybe it’s that they haven’t slept or maybe it’s that Willow’s downed three and half cups of coffee, but she’s shaking with distress over this prospect. Willow James loves hugging people. (Will Declan Carter have to keep his arms, made for specially for hugging, to himself? That seems impossible.)

 

[ellarose]

"It may sound bleak, Willow, but we can only trust ourselves." Juliet warns, her brown eyes serious. "The people in this world excel at wearing their pleasant masks only to cast them aside the moment your back is turned. Even those who appear to be acting out of kindness may have ulterior motives. The castle staff is included in this. With so many royals present, those who encourage you to open up to them may be incentivized with bribes or... or threats." She's picking at the skin around her nails without realizing it, nervous. (Memories float around her mind. Finding a quiet place to cry, being offered a comforting hand... only for that hand to later give away her hiding place. 'There she is. I found her, Lord Brooks!') Brushing it aside, perhaps inspired by some coffee-induced madness, she presses her hand over Willow's. It's warm. "We need to be careful. If we're ever to discuss our quest, we must do so in this room and this room only."

It's not warm enough to burn, but Juliet moves her hand away so fast that she might as well have been. What in blazes is she thinking? Averting her eyes shyly, she picks up her current project to busy her hands once more. At present, she's embroidering a 'J' on a handkerchief. Conveniently, it's a letter she's had plenty of practice with. It's the only letter she intends to stitch... because she does not wish to torture herself, nor does she have the time to finish Jayden Darling's full name. Though she supposes an unfinished name on a handkerchief may be quintessentially Wonderland. (With that in mind, she ends up stitching as far as 'Jayd' before setting the thread and needle aside.) "It was not particularly unusual to see Ambrose in such a state." She explains as she works. "However, the royals and their associates were always cross over something or another when it came to me. I didn't have a Willow James back then to keep me out of trouble." She purses her lips, recalling the jab in the apothecary.

"I understand how you feel... but at this moment, we are not prioritizing Queen Viviane's desires. It only seems like we are." Juliet muses, assessing some of the magically stitched costumes. She decides to add a few colorful patches to the pockets and jacket flaps by hand, just to give it more of a 'Wonderland' flair. "For now, we must wear our own masks and play their game. The only way to truly dismantle it is from the inside." She smiles, a rare glimmer of passion flickering through her eyes. "Once we've proven that we're capable of winning, we can take the masks off... and they will see for themselves that the heroines are stronger than all of their finest heroes. With so many witnesses, I believe it will inspire change that will be seen throughout all of Folklore."

Juliet blushes, remembering herself and feeling like the contents of her heart are suddenly all over the floor. This is... the closest she's gotten to being truly open and honest in a long, long time. At her core, that is what she wants more than anything else. Change. And now she's sharing that with someone else. (It's impossible to ignore the prickles of guilt that emerge and mingle with it. She's wearing masks upon masks, her true self lost beneath. One day they'll shatter. And when they do...? Everything they have right now will shatter, too. Her heart clenches and she hastily disposes of the thought before it can suffocate her.)

"...Perhaps everyone will be able to participate in tournaments someday. Like the baseball games in Evermore." Juliet says, trying to replace those thoughts with something softer on her conscience. "That would be nice."

Juliet tilts her head thoughtfully as she glances at her disguise in the mirror, appraising it from a theatrical standpoint. Hm. It does give off the air that she's a whimsical prince of dreams. She may not have the most expensive fabrics in the lands... but that lends to her charm. (Although that may be the sort of charm that only she and someone like Willow might be appreciate amidst the snobby royals.) "If it's possible, I would like to compete as myself in the events." It may help some in keeping up the rouse, giving the transformation charm lengthy breaks between uses. "Perhaps whenever a helmet and armor is required." Most of them, in other words. She does not want anyone to accuse her of using a traditionally masculine physique to 'do things she wouldn't have been able to do otherwise' in her own body.

Aside from just that, there are lots of other risks to consider. Would it be best to reveal themselves at the end if it exposes the magic they used-- if it exposes Willow as a caster? But they are the heroines and the only solution to the Lightless problem thus far. What can they truly do about that? Not to mention that Willow is an other sider, where the rules in regards to magic are quite different. Well. If they can escape to Evermore shortly afterwards, they can assess the state of Folklore from afar and carefully plan their next move from there. Either way, lines will certainly be drawn and there will be no going back.

Juliet is fully prepared to cut her ties to the royals and act on her own terms.

Pulled from her thoughts at Willow's comment, Juliet pivots her attention to her dejected squire. Ah. She truly seems upset about this. The archer gives the subject some thought, biting her lower lip as she does.

"Ah. Well... normally I would advise against it..." Juliet usually does not have much trouble, saying 'no' to shut down certain ideas. (Especially ideas involving hugs.) But seeing Willow like this... "But Wonderland is known to be an unusual place with unusual customs. This gives us permission to be infuriatingly strange. If a squire were to hug the princess to greet her in a way that is considered proper in his own kingdom, I am sure the matter could be resolved with an explanation and apology. I would advise you to hug her in front of everyone, however." Hesitating, she sets a hand on Willow's shoulder to try and offer her some semblance of comfort. "If you're caught hugging the princess in private, the implications of that would be much too damning to smooth over with an apology."

With that said, they spend some time coming up with some nonsensical Wonderland mannerisms and laws-- which gradually ends up turning into a game (strategy) of seeing who can come up with the most nonsensical rules. Instead of bowing, they lean backwards. They drink tea with their thumbs raised instead of their pinkies. So on and so forth.

As the night stretches on, they end up becoming so deliriously tired that their words clash together (or is that just the coffee?) a sign that they should retire to their nest of blankets.

"You mentioned feeling homesick earlier." Juliet mentions as they stare at the ceiling in the dark. She isn't quite sure why she's bringing it up. She's tired, reflecting on the events of the day... considering Evermore and everything that could be transpiring there at this very moment. "Would it help to tell stories about home?" She blushes, thankful for the cover of night. "Or-- you're probably tired of telling stories at this point. And... tired." (What is she talking about? Why is she stumbling over all of her words?) She blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy, and yawns softly. It's late. "Sorry. We should sleep."

 

[starboob]

“No, no.” Willow mumbles, rubbing her eyes of the sleepies. It doesn’t help. They’re so heavy. She can feel them shaking and forming muscles she didn't even know existed until this moment. “I’mnot…tired.” Her words crashing together definitely screams that she’s coherent and not on the verge of passing out. But Willow is determined. Determined to savor a night that’s been so sweet. (Her arm still feels warm from where Juliet touched her. Her cheeks still feel hot from listening to her talk about standing up to the royals and wanting to enact real change so that everyone in Folklore can play baseball. (Okay, wait a minute. That’s not right…) She wants this night to last forever.) “Story time.”

She props herself on her elbow to help her stay awake, staring at Juliet’s moonlit face. (Is there any source of light that she doesn’t absolutely shine under?) The tips of her fingers itch with the desire to reach out and brush the archer’s cheek. She curls them against her shirt instead, resisting the urge.

“Story. Time.” She hums thoughtfully, slowly scooting closer to Juliet. “Before Leif and I moved to the Rhode Island house permanently, we used to spend a lot of time there during the summer.” Her love for summer started then. It was the one time of year where she really felt like she had a home and where she didn’t have to deal with her parents’ incessant arguments. It made the rest of the year worth it. “That’s actually how I met Meredith. She lived across the street from my grandmas and, during the summer, the kids of Rhode Island lane would spend our days at the beach.” When the ocean still came to shore and their mermaid friends would visit. They’d play some vicious games with each other and they almost always ended with a near drowning. Those games were a bit too much for Willow. She’d watch from the sidelines, play referee, or content herself with building sand castles and searching for the most perfect seashells.

As she thinks of those days, she can feel the warmth of sun on her skin, the sea salt spray coating her curls, and hear the memory-echo of joyous screams. She remembers the land arch bridge at one end of the beach. She remembers how Meredith and Clover, covered in kelp, playing the role of kelp monster in kelp-tag, would tackle her through it even though it was supposed to be a safety zone... Juliet would have liked it. She can so easily picture her red hair eating up the sun, her little kid self with her curious brown eyes, grinning over something Willow says.

“Meredith used to hate me back then. She’s kind of… mean. She’s honestly mean to everyone when she first meets them and I was no exception. I didn’t like her much back then either.” Yeah, getting chased around by kelp monsters was Willow’s least favorite thing about summer. And Meredith made sure to be particularly evil when it was her turn. She loved scaring Willow. “But when I moved and switched schools, I was placed in her class and assigned a seat at her table.” Meredith used to sit alone at that table, because she scared everyone else off with her vague threats and death glares. “It was a miserable first two weeks, but then everything changed. She says it’s because she heard me say something catty under my breath about another kid in our class and decided I was alright. I’ve always thought it was because I gave her half my sandwich once.” She might have been mean, but Willow wasn’t going to let her starve just because her mom forgot to give her lunch money that day. “Either way, she stopped being mean to me and stood up for me a few times. We ate lunch together and would sit next to each other on the bus. A year later, she convinced me to sneak into an R-rated movie—those are, um, like plays for adults only—and that shared secret turned us into best friends.”

Meredith’s friendship is irreplaceable. Willow cannot picture how her life would have turned out had they never become friends. Without her, she doesn’t think she would have survived prep school with the Charming Street kids. Even with Dorothea there, it would have eaten her alive. “I love her so much.” She dozes a bit. “I can’t wait for you to mee...”

***​

One of the castle staff has to wake the heroines the next morning. It takes Willow extra coaxing from both Juliet and Lucky to pull her out of their floor nest. It doesn’t matter how fiercely she rubs her eyes or how many espresso shots she accepts from the castle staff, her eyes are heavy. Her porridge almost becomes a pillow not once but three times. Several staff members ask if she’s okay. The first few times she politely insists she’s fine, only tired, but by the quadrillionth (fifth) time, she starts to snippily ask, “Are you okay?”

After that Juliet takes her on a tour of the palace. Despite all the romantic vista points, it’s pure strategy. (Willow’s too tired to even appreciate them fully.) Since they’re supposed to be watching for any potential Lightless, keeping an eye on all these royals, and watching for any suspicious activity in general considering the threats to the queen and Ambrose’s suspicious activity, it’s necessary they’re both familiar with the palace. (Willow’s soul almost leaves her body when she discovers the morphing staircases. As if Folklore’s staircases weren’t evil enough.)

Unsurprisingly, the entire castle is a bustle with activity. Castle staff are all fussing over this and that, making sure the flower garlands are adorned just so, that the statues are so polished they could be used as mirrors, and that there is not a speck of dust in sight. Willow almost runs into a group wheeling away one large portrait of Elise to replace it with another—a feat considering how large the portrait is. She takes to sticking close to Juliet’s arm after that. “The portraits are charmed,” she mutters, observing the way the eyes all follow them. She sticks her tongue out at one experimentally. The eyes of the portrait don't react, but she does notice a gilded guard discreetly following them a few seconds after that, as if cued by her actions. “This is like big brother.”

As they wander through the palace and the gardens, they learn that Prince Jayden has yet to arrive or send word. Many are taking bets on whether or not he will show. This fresh anticipation adds a new layer of excitement to his possible arrival and boosts his rank. Prince Devlin still remains firmly at the top, his portrait somehow looking more smug (and fluffy). Cayman’s position hasn’t moved, but it’s still startlingly high. She can’t tell whether she’s imagining this or not, but it almost seems like the maids and guards refuse to speak of him.

There is little else for Juliet and Willow to do after they tour the palace and its grounds. The princess, queen, and Ambrose are all still busy with the tournament arrangements and the private banquet scheduled for this evening. Apparently, this is supposed to be a way for Elise to welcome and greet her future lord. (Barf-o-rama.) As the heroines, they are extended a last minute invitation under the guise that they can be there on alert in case anything happens. Willow thinks it also doubles as a way to subliminally show that the heroines of love approve of such a nonsense love arrangement. (Double barf-o-rama.)

They retire to their room for the afternoon and, after Willow screams her frustrations about this entire affair into her pillow, they experiment with the doubles in preparation for the (likely) possibility that they will need to step in as Prince Jayden and his squire. (Juliet’s is decidedly weird, but in a very charming way. The Willows convince Juliet 2 to play the quiet game and promise her the biggest slice of flaming red cake if she manages to stay silent for the entire evening.) Since they have no way of knowing whether the prince will show or not, they make arrangements for their doubles to attend the banquet. Should the prince from Wonderland not show, Willow 2 will send a signal to Original Willow, who will be with Original Juliet posted somewhere near the castle, and they’ll make their fashionably late entrance as the prince and his squire. If the actual prince does show up, then the originals will return to the castle and discreetly dispose of the doubles to attend the banquet themselves.

An hour before the banquet is set to start, the doubles leave the room and the originals don their disguises. With a better sense of Amoria and its surrounding areas, Willow teleports them to the outskirts of the kingdom, just beyond the wood so that two hooded figures in garish cloaks are seen entering the kingdom. Willow (as Declan Carter) stays close to Juliet (as Prince Jayden Darling), wringing her hands under her polka-dot cloak as they meander through the streets and slowly make their way to the palace. (She’s already compiled a list of approximately seven thousand and one things that could go wrong with their plan, including one where she forgets to wear pants despite having done three million pants checks.)

It’s about two hours into the banquet when Willow gets the signal, her citrine stone necklace warming over her chest. She gently tugs on Juliet's cloak and indicates to her necklace. “Let us scaboot, Lord Prince."

 

[ellarose]

Jayden Darling. Jayden Darling. Jayden Darling. Juliet repeats the name like a witch recites ancient incantations, settling into her role. The prince of Wonderland. Prince of dreams. While it's primarily an illusion that sharpens all her angles and gives her a ganglier height, this new form still takes some getting used to. Her features and Prince Jayden's are not too dissimilar and were they to stand side by side, people may mistake them for cousins or even siblings. Brother and sister. The thought strokes against something long ago buried in her, things she ought to know about herself and doesn't. Did either of her parents have red hair, too? Did she have siblings? Was mama her real mama-- or was she just another stranger with good intentions, burned by Juliet's presence in her life? Now she's digging uncomfortably close to something she doesn't wish to unearth and pinches the inside of her wrist. The pain is good. It gives her something else to focus on. Jayden Darling. She rubs the spot where her skin turns rosy-pink and goes on to tug at the rainbow bracelet she'd tied for herself with spare fabric. Scaramouch is nestled against her collarbone, pressed down beneath layers of her costume, the valiant alien buddy guarding the entrance of her mind.

Juliet must be diligent not to let the monsters in herself.

When Juliet closes her eyes, she can see her nightmare replaying in her mind. Instead of receiving a visit from the likes of Sefarina or Sabrina, a mock-version of the prince of dreams visited her. Death wore his face, stalking across a stage with an amber staff clenched in his hand. Juliet was tied to a velvet theater seat, her lips stitched shut with needle and magic thread. Tasting blood, unable to speak and unable to move. She remembers her pulse rabbit-quick with urgency, the heart in her chest the only thing inside of her capable of movement or sound. Wishing to escape like a caged animal. "Ju-li-et! The show's about to start." The false prince of dreams bowed and tapped his staff against the stage, the wood splintering in half and tilting like a sinking ship. "Are you ready for another tragedy?" Then she saw a vision of herself falling from the rafters, impaled on one of the broken planks.

"...Scaboot." Juliet repeats the unfamiliar word, blinking as if waking when Willow's touch draws her out of the reverie. There was more to the nightmare... but it's just nerves and an overactive imagination, real as the non-existent monsters in her wardrobe when she was a girl. She doesn't understand precisely what 'scaboot' means-- but from the nudge she can tell that her squire is indicating that it's time to go.

Jayden Darling. Juliet's fine. She'll be fine. Has to be fine. Having tasks and survival to focus on will keep such dark thoughts to the wayside. Folklore's narrative may only have tragedy in store for her, but Willow's stories indicate that something kinder is capable of existing out there. With the two of them together, perhaps...

Mindful of Willow's own nerves, sparking around her like electricity in a storm, Juliet surreptitiously reaches for Willow's hand. They're hidden from prying eyes in the draping fabric between their cloaks. She holds and squeezes. For... ah, reassurance? Ahem. It's practical. They need to approach this with their minds sharp. (And their blades sharp, too.) "Yes. Let's."

***​

Upon arriving at the castle gates, there are many tedious official matters to take care of. The confirmation of their identities by the guards. Then the staff attends to them, performing an obligatory search before taking their belongings to their room. (Having prepared for this possibility, she and Willow had been extra careful in what they chose to pack. The clothes they made, mostly, as well as a few random Evermore items thrown in for good measure. Tea cups especially. Juliet knows from all the stories that Wonderlandians take their tea time seriously if nothing else. Everything of use-- and magical use especially-- is in Willow's vast, devouring bag.) Lastly, the staff inquires after their companions and any accommodations they might make.

"My companion is a master of disguise." Juliet informs them with an easy, charismatic smile. (She is a man, a prince, hailing from a dreamlike world. What is there to frown about?) She lifts her hand, petting the air as if this companion is standing right before their eyes. "A chameleon, see?" Of course they don't. There's nothing there... and although they're baffled, they can't argue with her. "She is quite shy, I must admit, and will remain by my side." This admission draws endearment and compassion from the women attending to them. A twinge rises in her chest. Shy. Like Gracie.

"Very well, then." The maid grins back, accepting this story as the truth, and Juliet can't help feeling another twinge rise up in her chest. Bitterness this time. She claims to see something as Juliet and everyone frowns and whispers behind their hands before sending her to her chambers on account of her madness. Coming from a man, however? It's easy. Painfully easy. Is this what it is to be a man? A prince? "Please do let us know if you or your squire require anything at all during your visit, Prince Jayden."

"Thank you kindly." Juliet doesn't allow her act slip for a second, skillfully miming her arm in a way that indicates that her companion is crawling back into the folds of her sleeve. (Through ballet, the height of her acting experience is in the nuances of each action, the flow of how she carries herself. Despite the fact that there is no chameleon there, the maids watch with fascination.) The prince of dreams dazzles them with another sparkling smile, bowing backward and then forward as she and Willow practiced before tipping her coronet like a top hat. A few of their cheeks turn a rosy pink as the Wonderland prince and squire duo leave them equal parts perplexed and charmed.

After passing over those first obstacles, they're then led into the great hall. When their names are given by the master of ceremonies, echoing in the large room and demanding everyone's attention, the feeling sets in. The heavy double doors swing open. They're really doing this. "Announcing Prince Jayden Darling and his squire, Declan Carter."

Juliet's heart is in her throat as they walk down the hall. She can feel every pair of eyes in that room on her, burning through her costume and against her skin, down to her very core. (No. Now's not the time to turn and run. They can't see right through her. They've made it this far, haven't they?) The other princes are sitting at the long vertical tables at the right and left of the room-- but they walk further to stand before the queen, the princess, and their relatives sitting at the high table at the farthest end of the hall. The grandest seat in the middle of the table is empty. It's where King Alistair would have sat, were he still alive. Panning from there, Queen Vivian is as collected and polished as ever. Sitting regally in her silken gown, her crown and jewelry glittering threateningly in the torchlight behind her-- like silver razor blades. Most threatening of all are her sharp, ice blue eyes which assess them through a veil of politeness and hospitality.

This isn't the first time Juliet has stood before Queen Vivian to be appraised, to be deemed worthy of breathing the same air as her daughter. Knowing she isn't herself, however, does embolden her some. While their introduction whirs by her in a zephyr of nerves, they manage. Somehow, they manage, offering the explanation they'd settled on the previous night. They were not delayed by any person or threat in particular-- it is just that Wonderland is so very far away and they made it there as soon as they could. A story that no one can contradict or challenge-- except, perhaps, the real Prince Jayden himself. But he has not yet arrived.

"You've traveled long and far to be here from Wonderland. We are pleased that you arrived safely and thank you for your presence." Queen Viviane eventually says, cutting Juliet free from the tangles of tension wound around her. "Be seated and enjoy the feast."

Juliet exchanges a brief but meaningful glance with Willow. 'We've made it.' They still have a long way to go, but this can easily be considered their first victory. It's once she can breathe that she notes Princess Elise, ensnared in a velvety emerald gown, taking an unenthusiastic bite of her soup. The other royals at the high table are an assortment of King Alistair's relatives-- it's presumable that most of Queen Viviane's are still in Okeanos, having more urgent matters to attend to there.

After this assessment, they're led to their seats among the other princes and their squires. Given they've arrived late, the only the available seats are those next to King Cayman. But of course. His presence seems to suck most of the life from the room, those seated nearest to them still with fright.The frizzy mane of his long hair, mustache and beard could easily be mistaken for a dark aura. His blood red coat and special gloves reek of old perfume and smoke. When Juliet observes him, however, the most notable thing about him is how he stares at... her. Not her as Prince Jayden Darling. But at her double. Nerves creep up and down her spine like ants. Why is he...

Juliet chances a glance at the other Juliet. Her double is currently holding her silverware upside down, stirring it in her potato soup... and it's evident she's using a fork to do so. The prince of dreams then shifts her gaze down the row of princes sitting side by side, finding that most of them are watching with horror in their eyes as the heroine of love acts like she's out of her damned mind. Oh. No wonder. The other Juliet tilts her head inquisitively and sticks the end of the fork in her mouth to suck the creamy potato broth off, obliviously content with herself. The other Willow at her side is flustered, offering them both an apologetic glance. Gnats.

Juliet August will have to take ill. That's the only way this is going to work. Juliet as Jayden holds her exhausted sigh on the inside, putting on her charming smile as she takes her seat. The prince of dreams next to the king of nightmares.

"Ah." Juliet as Prince Jayden speaks up, boldly plunking the end of her own fork into her soup-- hard enough that it splashes. She doesn't like the way they're staring at her. She doesn't like what position it might put her in. "...What a vision you are, my lady. A fine reminder of home. That is precisely how soup is meant to be stirred in Wonderland." The prince sucks on the end of her own fork, trying not to blush all the while. (There's barely any soup on it. This is, admittedly, a terrible way to eat soup. It's all wrong. That Juliet is clearly an impostor.) "I implore you all to try it for yourselves."

Across the room, a noise draws everyone's attention. The princess, who had been noticeably downcast and gloomy since the evening began (since this ridiculous tournament was conceived) is now giggling at the ensuing chaos and stirring her fork upside down in her soup. Some of the princes appear scandalized by the princess's decision. Some glare jealous daggers at the prince of dreams for making the princess laugh when they could not. And a few-- horrifyingly-- follow her lead, sticking their forks in their own soups in an overeager effort throw themselves into the princess's good graces.

This is... ridiculous. Queen Viviane looks like it's taking everything in her not to grab everyone by their ears and scold them like they're all misbehaving children. King Cayman keeps shifting his careful attention between Prince Jayden and Juliet. Meanwhile, the prince of dreams glances warily at her squire. They ought to do something about her double. She's... an odd duck, to say the least.

"I've heard before Wonderland has quite... whimsical traditions." The fluffy prince (what was his name again?) tries to take an amicable approach, taking note of the princess's reaction. (However, he wisely still uses his spoon with his soup.) As he smiles charmingly at the prince of dreams and his squire, King Cayman coughs gruffly under his breath. "Tell me, what is it like?"

 

[starboob]

‘Wonderland? What’s Wonderland?’

Willow completely and utterly freezes when Prince Fluffington addresses her. She grips the stabby end of her fork, her knuckles whiting out. ‘What the duck is Wonderland.’

He blinks his marbled pink and blue eyes, like he’s trying to pin her into place. ‘I think he knows. He knows. He totally freaking knows.’ He takes another slow swallow of his soup, never breaking eye contact. Innocently, he tilts his head either in encouragement or in suspicion.

“Ahh…” She opens her mouth to fill the silence and cut the tension building like an impenetrable wall. Her mind is a blank space. All her mischief and nonsense leaving her under the scrutiny of these princes and the king raking his leery eyes down her spine. ‘He definitely knows.’ Her eyes, a deep chocolate brown, almost black in this disguise, flicker over to Juliet, the prince of dreams. (Her smile really is a dream. Willow could think about it all night long and would prefer to.) The ghost warmth of her hand slipping into hers earlier returns and reminds her that she’s not alone. They’re doing this together. They’re doing this for Elise. They’re doing this for love.

And they can’t get caught.

Ignoring the numerous eyes on her, especially those of the king of nightmares, she clears her throat and offers a wobbly impression of a smile. “Pardon? When did we ever discuss It?” She looks to Juliet to confirm this fact. “Perhaps you misheard, Lord Prince? We are from Wonderland. W-o-n-d-e-r-l-a-n-d Not It. I-t. Very different spellings, but phonetically similar if you spell with your eyes closed.”

Those cotton candy eyes narrow. His lips form a thin line. Willow doesn’t falter, once more looking towards her companion, scratching through her wavy black locks. Her gaze pans back over to Prince Fluffington. “In any case, we have traveled through It, but never stopped. However, if you’d like to hear of our travels through This and That and There, I’d be happy to entertain.”

The prince pulls his lips into a well-trained smile, lifting his hand, but before he can say anything, princess Elise chimes from the high table. “Oh, yes!” She offers an encouraging smile, ignoring the abject disapproval of the queen as she leans forward and—most shockingly—places her elbows on the table. (The queen does well in hiding the conniption she is most certainly experiencing. She discreetly taps the princess's elbow.) “Do tell. I have never traveled past the castle walls and wish to hear more of what exists in the evergreen yonder.”

This causes a small ruckus of princes and their squires offering to regale the princess with tales of their adventures and many accomplishments, asserting that their tales are full of beast slaying and chivalry. Princess Elise regards them politely, but keeps her focus on the Wonderland duo, her eager blue eyes shimmering like jewels.

When it is clear the princess is most interested in the Wonderland duo, Willow obliges the request with a nod and when she opens her mouth to speak, the rest of the princes and squires momentarily try to lap their stories over hers, but eventually quiet to the squire’s odd charm. “Ah, well. This is a C-sided town and That is a coasting village! We traveled There by way of the cannibal canal, after helping to paint the roses red.”

“Paint the roses?” Prince Evren inquires, raising a bushy brow. “Do you not mean painting roses?”

“That is what I said. We painted roses,” Willow insists, nodding decisively. “We painted them red.” She leans over to Juliet and loudly whispers, “I think there might be an ear infection among the princes, Lord Prince. It will be my honor to defend thy royal ears fromst the mites.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” she continues, speaking even louder as she leans over the table to address the rest of the group. “When we got to This, we saw through the C-sides,” she makes a sawing motion with her arm to the confusion of everyone else, “into That where we coasted into the wood. Though while we passed through That, we were able to jam with some berries and help a mooshroom…”

Willow continues on and on for the better part of an hour, much to everyone’s irritation—well, save for Princess Elise, Juliet, and the doubles. The queen seems to be barely suppressing the urge to rub her temples, but eventually even she reaches her limit and lifts her hand to signal a stop. She debates misinterpreting the gestures but a signal from Juliet tells her that they’ve been irritating enough for the time being.

The dinner wraps up soon after that, mostly in silence. (Juliet 2 looks visibly disappointed that the dessert is merely a bite sized fruit tart. Willow 2 politely offers her her own portion, simultaneously preventing Juliet 2 from thieving from the princes and squires sitting around her. Oof, they really are going to have to do something about her.) Afterwards, the tables and benches are cleared and after dinner refreshments are served. The princes are also each given the opportunity to introduce themselves to the princess. Elise’s smile is well composed, though her eyes still reflect her resistance to this entire affair, practically hollowed out. (For a flicker of a second, it's almost like she's looking at Dorothea but she's certain it's only her tired mind playing tricks on her.)

She watches Elise carefully, in stolen glances, while she converses with some of the other princes’ companions. Some are squires like herself, others close relatives, and a few close friends to the princes. For the most part, she uses this moment to assess the princes’ characters through their chosen companions. Through what she learns from Prince Evren’s notably young squire—a boy she finds out is his second cousin—he seems to have a lot of mythos around his name, though the way the boy speaks of his “uncle” indicates that despite his brutal reputation, he’s quite gooey underneath the armor. Especially considering that he selected his eager nephew to serve alongside him for a tournament as notable as this one. She also discovers that his companion is a floppy-eared rabbit.

Cayman’s companion has glassy eyes and sewn shut lips. Hardly anyone addresses him—Willow tries, but the squire doesn’t even gesture or acknowledge her company and leaves her with a chilly feeling once she departs his side. She ignores the feeling that Cayman is somehow watching even though he’s glowering in the back corner, waiting for his turn with Elise. (Willow shudders at the thought of him interacting with Elise in any setting—even with so many here to act as witnesses and protect her.)

She then tries to chat with Devlin’s lemon-berry looking friend—a noble from the Sky Kingdom—but he’s too busy charming the younger squires with tales of his adventures with Devlin. Some of Elise’s cousins are not-so-discreetingly ogling Sir Bain, only looking away when their mothers or the queen cut glances over to them. He’s charming in the same untrustworthy way as Devlin. He carries himself like a man who’s authority has never been challenged, who’s never been told no. She makes a note to remain wary of him.

Her deep dark eyes pan over the guests once more, deciding who next to exchange pleasantries with, just as Cayman downs whatever is in his glass and stomps over to the front of the room. 'Nopity nope.' Briefly, she tries to catch Juliet's eye but doesn't wait for any particular signal before she's sprinting past the old man (without even stumbling!), offers a polite reversed bow, and, without any hesitation or shame, throws her arms around Elise's neck.

She could hear a hairpin drop with how silent it becomes following her outburst. Willow pretends not to notice, smiling brightly at Elise with all the obliviousness of an excited puppy. “I do hope you accept this hug from Prince Jayden Darling seeing as your rules are quite fixed that a suitor should not have any 'improper' contact with the princess. However, he could not resist. Your beauty is just beyond compare. I am sure the poets are waxing about it now.” Willow nods, ignoring the cold sweat collecting at the back of her neck. "Prince Jayden much looks forward to reconnecting. Prince Jay—" She turns to call the prince, only to lose her voice when she stares up at two burly castle guards.

Oh. Duck.

 

[ellarose]

It happens in slow motion. The champagne bubbles in her glass floating upwards, the princes making conversation in their clusters. An unsettling hush falling over all of them as King Cayman approached the princess... and then Willow threw herself in his way.

All too quickly everything snaps back into place as the clamor of the guard's armored footsteps ringing in Juliet's ears. Willow. And then she's pushing her way to the front of the room, uncaring of the offended glares shot her way. The banquet hall is spinning around her like the rides at the Evermore faire, she doesn't assess her surroundings, doesn't note the expressions or stances of the people in the room with them. None of that matters right now. The only thing she can think is that Willow did this because she said it would be all right. It's her responsibility to make it right.

They are not spending their first night in the dungeons. Not after...

"I very much look forward to reconnecting with Prince Jayden as well." Princess Elise acts before Juliet can, folding her arms around Willow in return, holding on tightly as if her reciprocation might keep her safe from the guards. It works, they freeze solid... but Queen Viviane's face is turning bright red. King Cayman is glaring poison daggers. The princess's flowery blue eyes find Juliet's newly green ones over Willow and the guards's shoulders, settling there like a safe place to land. "I could indeed use a friend right now. Thank you for relaying his message, Sir Carter."

Everyone in the hall follows the princess's affectionate gaze, tracking it to Juliet. Now everyone is staring at her. Making their assumptions and their judgements. This attention crawls over her skin like a chill she can't quite shake and a familiar pressure mounts, threatening to crush her like a bug under a duchess's heel. If only she had her hood to hide in. If only she could just disappear. 'I heard they took her in off the streets. What if she's diseased?' Voices echo. 'She's ill. Poor thing. I always knew there was something wrong with her.' Laughter echoes. 'Knowing her history... I do wonder why Lord Brooks has chosen her for his bride. Perhaps her parents bribed him with their fortune?'

Juliet bites her lip and closes her hands into fists. Her fingers are longer and boxier in this form and it serves as a reminder that she isn't Juliet. Juliet, with the mothers who abandoned her. Juliet, the unruly child who was taken in out of pity and given a place in society that she did not deserve. Juliet, the lovesick girl who died too soon and came back to life. Juliet, the mad woman, the center of every scandal. She's not even Juliet, the heroine with an impossible task. She's Prince Jayden. Not only a man, but a prince. Standing on their level, no one should be able to look down on her the way they have her whole entire life.

The prince of dreams leans backward before swishing her patchwork coat with a flourish and sweeping forward into a bow before the princess, carrying herself with all the grace of a practiced ballerina. With her movement, the teeming beds and bannisters of blue roses in the hall burst into a rich emerald green. Prince Jayden's signature color. And, coincidentally, the same color as Princess Elise's dress tonight. Anyone with sharp enough eyes is sure to notice that.

And indeed they do notice-- because the roses aren't the only thing in the hall that turns green as the princes glare daggers of envy at Prince Jayden. Assessing him as a potential threat. Taking the prince they once thought of as a joke, a hoax, seriously.

Their plans to blend into the background are nixed now. Juliet grins charmingly regardless of that, still quite enjoying the reminder that she is not Juliet. If she could survive these people (and she did, although barely) as Juliet, it will be cake to do so as a prince. (Apparently, 'cake' is another word for saying something will be easy. Willow told her so. It does indeed make her hungry... the dessert portions truly were lacking tonight.) Her smile even takes on a mischievous edge when she catches King Cayman's eye. She doesn't cower or flinch and that seems to make him angrier.

Perhaps Juliet is playing with fire, the way she used to when she was younger... but she possesses the confidence that it won't burn her this time around.

"Darling." King Cayman hisses under his breath, meant for her ears alone. He shoves her with his shoulder as he turns to storm off in the other direction, perhaps to retire to his chambers to sulk and brood and plot. While the shove is harsh enough to knock her off her feet, she possesses the balance and strength to hold herself upright. "What a joke."

Then, without thinking, Juliet nimbly twists her leg out in front of the king. Tripping him. And the king of nightmares himself crashes comically to the ground with a shout, clearly not having anticipated this turn of events. With a reputation like his, he never would've presumed that anyone would dare try to make an enemy of him in such a flagrant way. (On one end, she's furious with herself for her foolish impulsivity and the consequences it'll have. But on the other, tripping King Cayman felt as natural to her as breathing. As if it's simply instinct for her to go out of her way to make this evil man's life a living hell.)

"...Are you a fool!?" King Cayman demands. Juliet studies the ceiling, seemingly impervious to his reaction. His companion's eyes flash fearfully as he rushes to the king's side to help him, but he's pushed away as he hauls himself up from the ground and dusts off his coat. The king's nostrils flare and all seven feet of him towers over Juliet. Still, she can't find it in herself to fear this man the way she ought to. "Do you want to die?" The guards twist around, Willow's hugging incident now completely forgotten. Good.

"Ah, but you asked me what a joke was, good sir." Juliet tips her head to the side innocuously. "What. A. Joke? Is it not commonplace in these parts to supply answers to questions? Or do you prefer questions in lieu of answers?" She gestures her hand elegantly towards Willow. "Just as it is commonplace to hug those you mean to acquaint yourself with by means of greeting?"

"You idjit Wonderlandians are all the same." King Cayman sweeps his sword out towards Juliet before anyone can stop him... and she springs backward with casual ease, unsheathing her own blade and angling it to defend against his strike. Their blades spark and through them, the king glares at her as if trying to puzzle something out.

"Stop this at once. You may fight to your hearts content on the battlefield, but not in these castle halls. This is your first and only warning. Am I understood?" Queen Viviane's command is sharp, drawing everyone's attention from the unexpected duel. She meets the eyes of everyone in the hall one by one, freezing every soul inside. (As Juliet sheathes her sword, she notices that a few of the princess's cousins have pretended to faint from the excitement and are currently enjoying the attention from the princes and squires who have come to their rescues. The young lady caught by Prince Bain is especially giddy and giggly. However, they all straighten up with alertness when Queen Viviane's icy gaze finds them.) "There has been much excitement this evening... and so we shall bid you all goodnight. Rest well, as we shall expect your presence at half seven for the opening ceremony."

As the princes dutifully begin to file out of the hall and make their leave for the evening, the queen surveys the area with grim exhaustion. And then...

"...Juliet August, Willow James. A word?" The queen requests. Juliet's heart plummets into her stomach. Because during all the chaos, she completely neglected to check on their doubles. And when she finally finds them, she has to cringe at the sight she finds. Juliet 2 is currently trying to wrestle a sword away from one of the display suits of armor and Willow 2 is trying to wrestle Juliet 2 away from it. First she was trying to steal the desserts and now the weapons. (She can't deny it is true to her character... only much exaggerated. The queen will not be amused with this.)

Juliet meets Willow's eye across the room. They need to try and trade places... and fast.

 

[starboob]

Juliet has a knack for making flowers bloom. First with the blossoms in her chest that are still unfolding their petals, turning her heart into an overgrown garden; then the roses she changed across Amoria. And if her smile is half as bright as it is when she's Prince Jayden, Willow imagines she could make an entire garden grow.

Though it’s nothing new for Juliet to come to Willow’s rescue, the gesture always leaves her heart feeling protected. Few have ever really stood up for Willow—outside of her family and Meredith (who might as well be family). Sabrina never did. Neither did Dorothea. Ryan might have, but she went to a different school. Juliet does so without hesitating and because of that Willow feels safest when she's with her. 'She really is a dream.'

It’s a good thing that everyone is so distracted by the action unfolding that no one has time to notice that Willow’s cheeks are burning red as she stares at the prince of dreams. It’s also for the better that Willow is so caught up in her own reverie that she doesn’t immediately process what is happening, because had she realized that Juliet tripped King Cayman she probably would have been like Elise’s cousins. Though in her case, her fainting would not have been an act for attention. Instead, she remains blissfully unaware as she replays the moment where Juliet pushed through that crowd of princes to protect her.

By the time the stars clear from her eyes, by the time she even registers that a short duel happened only feet away from her, Queen Viviane is ordering everyone out of the banquet hall. Willow sneaks Elise a small hand squeeze before she departs from the Amoria royals, hoping to instill some hope in the princess. Downtrodden is a devastating look on her and she wishes for nothing more than for her to be assured that she's not alone, that the heroines are fighting for her cause. But she knows it's hard regardless.

As she is carried by the stream of princes and their squires, she loses Juliet. And despite the new height of this disguise, she has trouble finding the prince of dreams even on her tiptoes.

Then the queen stills her blood by calling for them and she realized they're ducked.

She finds their doubles at the same moment Juliet does and lets out an inaudible groan. In hindsight, it probably was too risky to create a double for Juliet. Willow had not realized Juliet 2 could cause so much mischief even while playing the silent game. (If they use her again, they’ll have to give her something to do. Like counting the clouds or something.) “Duckity duck.”

Her “swearing” continues internally, nearly overriding her ability to think of much else. The queen’s eyes are boring into the doubles like she might actually be trying to turn them into icy statues that she can crush into powder. ‘C’mon, c’mon—Juliet just saved you. Do her a freaking solid and get it together, WJ. This is just like theater.’

And when she makes that connection, a plan falls into place.

She rolls her shoulders back and exhales. Then she swirls her wrist behind her back, careful to keep out of sight. A breeze rolls into the banquet hall through the giant double doors, slight at first then it builds to a steady howl. The candlelights are all blown out, plunging the hall to near darkness. The only source of light is the sliver moon outside. The princess’s cousins scream. Bodies rush past her. Armor clamors around. Willow somehow manages to find Juliet in the chaos she's created and pulls her towards the doubles. Willow 2 starts to apologize for Juliet 2, but none of it registers, far too busy putting her plan to work before the gust and commotion die down. Two glyphs appear on her palms, glowing in the dark, but Willow doesn't let them show for more than a second before she's pressing them into the doubles' shoulders. Once the glyphs are in place (Juliet 2 is trying to paw hers off) she takes Juliet's hand.

No warning is given before the world spins around them, before they collide with their doubles, pass through them, and switch places. It’s like being pulled into a riptide, violently tossed around, and spit back out. The Willows stick out their hands to rebalance themselves, but even they seem to know there isn’t time to dawdle. After a quick check to make sure the ol’ switch-a-roo was successful—a feat to do in the dark—the doubles are instructed to wait in Prince Jayden’s quarters. (Willow silently hopes that Juliet 2 doesn’t get them into any more trouble with her new disguise.)

Unfortunately, they don’t have any time to brainstorm how to explain Juliet 2’s odd behavior before they’re running up to join the royal party. With that comes the harsh reminder that they are women as they have to elbow through the guards who shove them back. “Stay back! Return to your quarters.”

“Excuse you!” Willow huffs, surprising herself. “We’re the heroines and the queen summoned us. Let us through.”

Even more surprising than her outburst is that the guards actually part. Though there is the possibility that Queen Viviane signaled for the guards to let them pass. In either case, they join the cluster of Amoria royals, still in a state of chaos with winds only just dying down. Willow can hear the cousins mumbling in faux-incoherence; one even dreamily asks if Sir Bain has come. (He hasn't.) Others are squabbling about where that draft came from; some loudly speculate that it was caused by something sinister, not so subtly hinting they believe it was King Cayman’s doing.

Queen Viviane, however, is having none of this—after the evening this has turned into, she is surely at her wit’s end. “Silence.” She doesn’t have to hiss or raise her voice, the force behind her tone is commanding on its own. Everyone’s lips press shut. “Everyone except for the heroines is to return to their quarters at once. The guards shall escort you back for safety.”

No one fusses or even murmurs after the queen has spoken. Some mumble a quiet, “Yes, your majesty.” Outside of that they dutifully follow after the guards until only the queen, her guards, and the heroines remain. (Willow and Juliet are not even given the chance to say goodnight to Princess Elise. Nevermind that Willow technically got to as Declan Carter.)

The queen remains silent for a moment, perhaps collecting herself for the nth time this evening before she addresses the heroines. “Come. Let us go somewhere more private and well lit.”

 

[ellarose]

In a whirlwind, they're escorted to Amoria's secret underwater halls.

Juliet always thought they were a myth, but Queen Viviane unveiled the entrance to them when she twisted the mirror in the hand of a mermaid statue. In a flash, this activated a portal entrance in the ornate mirror standing behind it. Juliet exchanges a glance with Willow before slipping through, following the queen's lead. There are no flowers here, no ornate decorations or priceless artifacts. No portraits with eyes that watch their every move. Just sparkly tile and glass walls surrounding them, stretching onward as far as their eyes can see. And the walls are filled with water, rainbows of fish and swaying undersea plants. It's nothing short of magnificent, like they've been transported to a new world altogether. The water glows softly, casting strange blue shadows over them as they fall into step behind the queen.

Thinking that she's about to be scolded, Juliet focuses on her breathing and tries not to fidget or chew on her lip like she has a secret or a reason to feel guilty. Instead, she watches the fish and considers herself fortunate that Willow was able to switch their places before her disastrous double could be pulled aside for a private chat with the queen. Thank goodness for Willow James.

Now that Juliet and Prince Jayden have been seen in the same room at the same time, it eliminates the possibility of them being one and the same. It should be simpler to excuse her absences without drawing too much suspicion from this point forward.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Queen Viviane asks after a pause that stretches as long as these halls. She glances over her shoulder at Willow. "The design was based upon the 'aquariums' in Evermore. I find it rather fascinating."

Queen Viviane eventually comes to a stop, turning to the left and settling her palm on the glass, sending a pulsing underwater signal through it. Seconds later, all twenty-three feet of an orca is swimming towards them. The queen's companion. Her presence is a testament to how enormous this hall is, how grand of a project it must have been to undertake. (She's barely visible on account of her smallness, but there's an unmistakable dot of pink on the orca's head... a dot which turns out to be Peaches, who hops excitedly at the sight of the heroines.) The queen's smiles fondly as she curls her fingers against the glass. Like she's reaching for something she can't quite hold onto.

"...This section of the castle was a wedding gift from Alistair. When he learned of what I would have to sacrifice when I left my home behind, he did whatever he could to bring pieces of the sea to me." Queen Viviane lowers her hand slowly. "Our marriage was arranged. But my husband was a kind man who I grew to love dearly as a friend. That is precisely what I want for my daughter. I will accept nothing less."

Juliet says nothing, knowing to be prompted rather than speak out of turn. The queen pivots to face them, the softness fading from her expression.

"She is of royal blood and has a role to play, therefore there are sacrifices she must make for the good of the kingdom. Just as I have. But I will not see Elise wed to anyone with a title. I wish for these men to prove themselves worthy... not only in their strength, but in their character. This was all I could do to ensure she has some semblance of a choice in this matter." The queen is... appealing to them. Juliet's brow furrows slightly as she wonders where this is all going. "King Cayman will not have her. Or you."

"...Me?" This time Juliet can't stop herself from speaking, taking the implication behind those words like a slap to the face.

"Your mother requested that I survey Elise's potential matches and recommend one among them for you." Queen Viviane informs her, staring unblinkingly as if she's eager to see how she'll react. Juliet strains to keep herself composed, but can physically feel the heat draining from her face, her ears filling with cotton that muffles everything that comes next. "Your conduct., or lack thereof, at dinner may have turned most of your potential matches away. King Cayman may indeed be desperate enough to..."

"Why did you invite him?" Juliet doesn't think, doesn't realize she's cutting the queen herself off mid-sentence. Her hands twitch at her sides like she's trying to reach for something to keep her balance with. Not again. They're not doing this to her again. (The queen's eyes might flash like a predator who has her prey cornered... but that may just as easily be a trick of the light.) Surely even after her outburst, the Augusts's don't hate her enough to--

"So that history does not repeat itself, my dear. Uninvited guests make the worst of villains. And surely you've heard the stories. The way he flies into a rage, transforming the people of entire kingdoms into animals? Making princesses disappear?" Queen Viviane sighs softly, clearly not fond of it either. Silently, Juliet wonders if this was all Ambrose's idea. Could King Cayman be working with him and the trolls? It's... a possibility. But there's no proof yet. "We will maintain the peace and entertain him by giving him a chance... and when he inevitably does not have his way, the finest heroes-- and heroines-- will all be gathered here in the same place to take care of him once and for all."

The queen sweeps her hand over one of the silver swords embroidered in her gown, a sparkling blade magicking into her hands. Juliet's eyes glimmer at the sight, momentarily forgetting everything said about matches and the prospect of marriage. Wow. "If I must, I will fight as well. I will protect my kingdom." Queen Viviane snaps her fingers and the sword spirits itself back into the stitching on her gown. Catching the way Juliet lights up with awe, she smiles again.

"I know what you want, Juliet. And believe it or not, I am on your side." Queen Viviane says. The glimmer in Juliet's eyes dies and cynicism bleeds through. The queen wants something from her, she can tell. Something more than she's already giving just by gracing them with her presence. "Your reckless behavior is encouraging Elise to act out. If she follows your example and chases all of her potential matches away, King Cayman may be the only one left for her. And I think we can agree that neither of us wishes for that outcome?"

Bile rises in Juliet's throat. She can't deny that Princess Elise ending up with King Cayman is the worst scenario in all of this. She can't explain her own behavior, either. It wasn't even her.

"If you can behave as a proper lady and encourage Elise to give her prospects a chance, I will acknowledge your heroine status as an official title. It will hold as much prestige as a noble marriage would and help to amend your family's reputation." Queen Viviane says, each word measured and intentional. "...Enough that they may be persuaded to stop seeking matches for you. Your service to the kingdom will leave you so little time for marriage and all of the duties it entails."

Juliet grits her teeth, she still can't speak. So the queen's dangling the prospect of 'freedom' over her head, asking her to accept a happiness built on the princess's sacrifices? She's been relying on her as a heroine of love and yet she's not going to acknowledge it in a way that matters until she does yet another favor for her. How long will this go on? How many tasks will she add onto this list of requirements before she decides it's enough? This a game Juliet knows better than to play.

"I will forgive your actions tonight so long as you see to it that there are no further... incidents." Queen Viviane says, perhaps taking Juliet's silence as some semblance of agreement. "Everyone believes a husband will keep you in line. Why not take this opportunity to prove them wrong?"

Juliet takes mother's advice, saying nothing because she can think of nothing particularly nice to say. 'Fuck you' comes to mind-- but while she is bold enough to trip King Cayman as Jayden Darling, she is not bold enough to curse the queen as Juliet August.

"Now... was there anything else you wished to tell me?" Queen Viviane asks, regarding both of the heroines this time. Juliet bites the inside of her lip, so consumed with what she's just been told that she forgets about the plot, Ambrose, the knife. Everything. She stands there, locked in her own head. "I was told you requested an audience with me when you first arrived."

 

[starboob]

Everything that comes out of Queen Viviane’s mouth seems to be competing for The Worst Thing That Willow James Has Ever Heard award. The sorceress cannot even school the offense from her expression. (It’s a good thing that the queen is, for the moment, attending only to the archer.) Like, it seems entirely obvious to Willow that there would be no one to blame, save for the queen, if her daughter were to end up with King Cayman, for she is the one putting her in this unsavory position by imposing her own sense of responsibility onto her daughter. She is the one who allowed Elise’s hand to be won by any eligible royal, rather than respect her wishes to marry for love. How is it that she can so easily put her daughter’s happiness on the guillotine and pretend that allowing her to choose the executioner is actually a fair exchange? Viviane’s knack for mental gymnastics would have been impressive in almost any other situation, but in this one Willow only finds horror.

And that horror continues to percolate as matters shifts from Elise to Juliet. Rage roils in her stomach on the archer’s behalf, their thread burning from Willow’s end as the queen cavalierly suggests that Juliet could doom herself and end up with Cayman. ‘As if!!’ The sorceress’s fists roll up at her sides, shaking as she tries to contain her outburst. (She only does so because of the orca framing the queen. They’re known for playing with their food and Willow doesn’t want to find out what traits Viviane might share by having such a companion.) Willow isn’t even angry because she believes she has some form of entitlement to Juliet’s heart by virtue of sharing a thread—she doesn’t, because, at the end of the day, it should be Juliet’s choice who she chooses. Whether that be Willow or someone else. The Augusts believing they still have this level of control over her—a grown freaking woman—is ridiculous. But she supposes this is Folklore. ‘Everything here is so backwards.’

Containing herself soon overpowers her ability to focus on what the queen is saying. She only catches a vague suggestion that she will fight Cayman if it comes to it (something Willow files under Foolish, capital F) and that it’s Juliet’s responsibility to keep Elise inline so that she doesn’t scare off her matches. (That, again, she doesn’t want.) Outside of that, she has to focus on her breathing and Lucky’s grip on her shoulder. (They are similarly displeased with the queen’s pompous attitude and overblown sense of entitlement.)

By the time Viviane is addressing them both, Willow has to take some measured breaths before she can even find herself in all her quiet rage. (Again, she tempts herself with an outburst, but reminds herself of the importance of timing. Exposing all her flaws in private won’t do Amoria any good. Just like with the stunt they pulled in Okeanos, just like when Meredith exposed the football team, timing will be everything. Willow can be patient.) When it’s clear that Juliet isn’t going to speak, Willow steps forward.

“Your majesty, this tournament has brought more danger to Amoria than just King Cayman.” Small tremors carry through her tone, but she does not retreat under the queen’s scrutinizing gaze. She holds it as levelly as she can manage. “The day before Juliet and I set off to search for Gerard Stanley in the wood, a man stabbed Juliet in the marketplace.” She gently nudges Juliet, prompting her to procure the dagger for the queen’s inspection. “We believe he was from one of the sky kingdoms.”

Queen Viviane examines the dagger, her lips forming a thin line, though she gives little else away. “And what reason would someone from the sky kingdoms have to attack Juliet unprovoked?”

“He was exhibiting signs of the sickness, your majesty.” This seems to catch Viviane’s attention as her icy eyes meet Willow’s again, prompting her to continue. “He ran off shortly after, leaving that knife in Juliet’s back. I would have gone after him, but I had to make sure that my fellow heroine and friend was attended to promptly. I believe he’s staying at a lodging not too far from the castle—or, pending his relationship to the skyward royals, he could have moved. I know I could identify him if he were to show up again. However, given his own shock over his actions, he might still be keeping a low profile.

“But this potential case aside, I worry that others with the sickness might have traveled here for the tournament.” Her tone darkens. “Amoria’s daily population has risen for the festivities and that puts everyone at a higher risk—even with all the heroes in the land, only we’ve figured out how to help the Lightless. I fear others might antagonize the newly transformed and provoke them.”

“Your concern for my kingdom is admirable, Willow James. Especially considering your status as an other sider.” Willow cannot tell whether her other sider status is supposed to be a jab or not, so she waits before accepting the praise. “However, with our creation of the Lightless holding facility, I believe that Amoria shall be safe so long as we remain vigilant and identify those with the sickness in a timely manner. I’ll see to having more guards on alert.”

Willow almost forgot about the Lightless facility and the danger that poses on its own. While Gerard escaped with assistance, she isn't sure that those adamantite walls will hold forever. Keeping the Lightless in such close proximity and away from the wood could produce undesirable effects depending on what kind of magic is beckoning them into the wood. At the very least, they are going to become more volatile the longer they’re kept from that beacon.

Before Willow can express her concerns for the facility, Queen Viviane cuts in. “Is that all?”

“Not in the slightest.” She shakes her head. While she could (and probably should) bring up her concerns about the facility, thinking of their “search” for Gerard reminds her of everything she learned at the Midnight Mountains. “While we were out searching for Lord Stanley, we had a run in with some trolls near the Midnight Mountains. We overheard them talking about a plot against Amoria—you, specifically.” Queen Viviane arches her brow. “The details of their plot wasn’t specific, but they were under the impression that you would be removed from the throne. Soon.”

She nods slowly, unsurprised. “The various troll clans have been opposed to Folklore’s nobility for myriads. Yet time and again, all their plotting amounts to ash.”

“Sure, but…” Willow steals a glance at Juliet, biting the inside of her cheek. “It seems they aren’t working alone. There’s someone on the inside who they are working with—”

“Let me stop you right there, Willow James.” Those ice blue eyes narrow and become sharper, her tone still crisp and damning. “Because if you are about to suggest treason in my court, you best have the evidence to support such an ill claim. I have not the time for conspiracy theories you heard from those overgrown goblins.”

 

[ellarose]

"Yes, your majesty." Juliet finds her voice, though the rest of her is stuffed down deep below her surface and forced to comply, comply, comply. That's what survival is in this world of status and grandeur. Queen Viviane's magicked gown may conceal more than just weapons and her orca stares at them hungrily from behind the glass wall. (Juliet recalls the tales that the other noble children used to share, that she fed the kingdom's traitors to her companion. Princess Elise never confirmed or denied these rumors about her mother, keeping quiet whenever the queen came up in conversation. This often persuaded the other children to stop making up theories in her presence, worrying that she might relay the rumors to her mother and have them fed to the orca.) "We understand."

"Good." Queen Viviane says, casting her gaze carefully over both of them before turning back to her aquarium on the other side of the wall. "There has not been another traitor in my court since Sefarina De Winter's execution. I take these accusations seriously indeed and would not wish to make any baseless judgements."

Juliet swears she can hear Sefarina's laugh ringing in her head. Mocking the queen. Mocking everyone who still believes her dead.

"...Have you come to your senses, Juliet? Or do you believe she still walks among us?" The queen is watching her intently again, as if reading her mind. A muscle in the archer's jaw ticks, she keeps her feet rooted in place although she wants nothing more than to retreat like a cornered animal. "Your mother worries that you're still ill, seeing and hearing things that aren't truly there. So surely you understand why I must be especially careful with any information you bring to me?" She sighs softly, pityingly. Juliet burns. "You're uniquely qualified to deal with the Lightless transformations, that is true. So I wish for you both to prioritize those matters above all else." Her eyes narrow once more. "Do not let yourselves be distracted by rumors. We all have our parts to play and I have many allies whose roles are to warn me of threats to my kingdom."

Juliet stares at the floor, silenced again. She's tempted to remind the queen that they took her to the catacombs, thinking her dead, and she came back to life. But the temptation withers and dies in her throat. The last time she made such an outburst, it... did not end in her favor. Struggling and fighting against the accusations does nothing except damn her further. It's not worth it.

"Is that all? There is much to be done before tomorrow." Queen Viviane asks, brushing her hands over her skirts definitively before dismissing her companion. (Perhaps sending her to sleep or off on an errand of some sort? There's no telling, really.) "I do very much appreciate your presence, heroines, and you will be rewarded handsomely for your service. And now I shall bid you both goodnight."

***​

On their way back to their room, Juliet and Willow pass some of the younger, more charismatic princes and squires walking together in the hall. From their low voices and air of camaraderie, it becomes quickly apparent that they're sneaking out to a tavern to drink away their nerves the night before the tournament. It will affect their performance, that is for certain, but Juliet can't help also thinking that she could benefit from a couple of drinks after-- fuck.

That's when she notices Juliet 2. Or, to be more specific, Prince Jayden 2 tagging along with the group of princes. The double skips behind them in zigzags like a disoriented duckling, clearly not belonging with the others and inviting herself along for the ride. Some of the princes cast weary gazes over their shoulders at the outlandish prince of dreams. Perhaps they're wondering to themselves if that's really the same prince who challenged the fearsome King Cayman earlier that evening. If that's a contender for the princess's affections, worthy of their envy ...Her double must have shaken Willow's at some point during the evening. Gnats. She's a bloody troublemaker, that one.

"...Prince Jayden." Juliet speaks up, acting quickly. She grabs her double's arm, yanking her to the side as the princes pass. Some of them peer curiously over their shoulders at this development. Some of them stop altogether to watch this encounter openly. "A word?"

"...A word? Oh, oh! Can I talk again?" The double whispers (thankfully), her eyes widening with delight. "Is the quiet game over?"

"Not quite." Juliet says under her breath, glaring. She turns to address the princes. "We only mean to check him for symptoms of the sickness. None of you have given us reason for concern thus far, but since Prince Jayden has only just arrived and traveled so far to be here... we only wish to be careful." She glances at Willow and nods, hoping that this cover is enough. "Please, don't let us delay you all."

"I see. That is very diligent of you. It does indeed set all of our minds at ease to have the heroines in our midst." Prince Bain sweeps into a short bow, smiling charmingly. If he thinks the concepts of heroines are a joke, he doesn't let it show. A few of the squires nod earnestly at his words... but a few of the other princes appear on the verge of rolling their eyes. "Then perhaps we shall see you later Prince Jayden? Your display at dinner tonight was quite something indeed. I'd be interested to hear more of your exploits over drinks."

"Perhaps!" Her double grins back at him, all too eager to be included. Juliet, meanwhile, holds a scream of frustration between her teeth. The princes continue towards the doors and Prince Jayden 2 waves happily as they go.

***​

It takes quite a bit of maneuvering for them to make it back to their room along with the double without being caught by the listening flowers or watching portraits. (While it might have been foolish and arrogant on Queen Viviane's part to dismiss their warnings altogether, she truly has tightened her grip on security. Perhaps she already knows about Ambrose? It's... certainly a possibility. Ugh. Royals have far too many secrets for Juliet to keep track of.) At the very least, they'll try and find a moment to warn Princess Elise. Then she'll at least know who to be wary of. Even if Juliet can't be trusted, Willow James surely can be.

Everything crashes into Juliet all at once now that they're sheltered in the privacy of their room. King Cayman. The threat of marriage matches. The belittling talk of her 'illness'. Thoroughly exhausted, she flops face-first onto the bed and groans softly into the mattress. Lying perfectly still, she lets the wrathful demon in her imagination throw the furniture around the room in her stead. It'd feel so damned good to break something. (Perhaps she'll get to break some of those princes's noses during the tournament. That's a thought.) Speaking of the other princes, though...

"Do you think we should join the other princes for a short while?" Juliet twists her head so her cheek rests against the bed instead, so her words to Willow aren't muffled against it. "I know we'll need our rest before tomorrow... but they may suspect something is amiss if he does not show up tonight."

 

[starboob]

Willow flops down onto the bed next to Juliet, joining her in the groan session.

Well, that could have been worse—she should know after her experiences with the authorities in Evermore—and she still wishes it had gone better. The vindictive part of her is secretly waiting for their warnings to turn into a reality so that they can have that sweet, sweet moment of, “I told you so!” But that vindictive part of Willow is too small to actually allow for any inaction on her part. She’s a hero now and, even when their allies are freaking walnuts, it’s her duty to protect them. It helps that she at least cares about Elise and is willing to protect her mother for her sake.

She turns her cheek onto her pillow before Juliet does, staring at the facedown archer. For as much as Willow feels defeated, she imagines it’s only a fraction of what her companion must be feeling. Lucky has even nestled between the archer’s shoulder blades for comfort. (Ahh, they’re so cute when they hang out.) It wasn’t fair for the queen to bring up her “illness” or use it against her. And she doesn’t think it’s wise for the queen to berate Juliet in the same breath that she’s demanding her compliance and service.

When Juliet does finally turn to face Willow, the sorceress wrinkles her nose and whines. “But I’m so sleepy.” Regardless, the heroine swings her legs over the bed and slithers out of bed, finding the pieces to her Declan Carter disguise. Though she may complain, she does understand that going out drinking with the other princes might be good for intel. In fact, catching them in a setting where they believe no one is watching might clue them into the princes they ought to be more wary of. And, hopefully, this is information that they can relay to Princess Elise to better protect her. “Just… Just don’t let me have more than one drink. I get weird when I’m drunk.” Lucky nods to attest to this. William Jameson is just too powerful for her own good.

All dressed up in their disguises, Willow casts the final charms to alter their features. They leave their floor nest stuffed with pillows—a trick she learned from Leif and Clover—and then slip from their room into Prince Jayden and his squire’s room through one of Willow’s mirror portals as it probably wouldn’t do anyone’s reputation any good if the prince of dreams and his squire were seen sneaking out of the heroines’ room. Sir Carter only barely got away with hugging the princess, after all.

***​

The tavern is probably what the princes would consider a dive, but the establishment isn’t even outside of the palace district and could be described as quaint more than anything else. Pixies buzz from the ceiling, creating a twinkling ambiance with their glowing bodies, singing frogs lend their voices at the stage in the back, and some elves work behind the bar.

They don’t even make it to the bar counter before that lemon-berry prince—Bain—claps them both on the back from behind and carts them over to the roundtable crowded with princes and their squires. “Ah, so good of you to join us, Prince Jayden and Sir Carter. The lads and I have already started so you two have quite the catching up to do.” He laughs even though he hasn’t said anything particularly funny and pushes Juliet and Willow down into seats between two princes she does not remember. “Unfortunately, my brother in arms, Prince Devlin DeSkies, cannot attend this evening as he has some family business to take care of.” Bain signals to one of the tavern servers that they require another round, offering the woman a smile as he rests his chin on top of his palm. He turns his attention back to the group. “But I believe this should be everyone—save for Prince Evren who is likely trying to cram in as much beauty sleep as he can.” A rumble of snickers follows the comment, a few of the squires nudging Prince Bain for his jest at the other prince’s behalf. He’s clearly popularly among the younger men, the other princes smile but don’t give him the same level praise. “Now, let us drink our worries away for tomorrow there is a maiden whose heart must be won.”

Soon after finishing his proclamation, large tankards of ale are shoved into Willow and Juliet’s chests and Prince Bain—who seems to be the ringleader—looks at them expectantly. ‘Ah. Cheese.’ The sorceress looks warily into the bubbles, then over to Juliet for help, but when it’s clear they will have to drink, she takes a polite sip. Bain does not let her set the tankard down on the table and says, “Oh, come now! Is Wonderland not all about whimsy and fun? Drink, my good sir! Drink!”

“Driiink!” A rosy cheeked squire demands, slamming his fist on the table. Naturally, this inspires the other rose-faced squires to join in on the chant until Willow tilts the tankard back and chugs the ale. Foolishly believing that ought to suffice, she offers the group a wobbly smile. Then another tankard is placed in front of her and those same expectant eyes are boring into her. ‘This… I really…’

Willow chugs two additional tankards after that, satisfying Prince Bain who loudly announces that the latecomers have finally caught up. Settling into his seat, Prince Bain drums his fingers against the table, eyeing the prince of dreams. “So, Jayden of Wonderland.” He tilts his head curiously, grinning at her with a lopsided smile that probably charms women, though Willow catches its leery edge. (Or is that the ale playing tricks on her?) “What was it that the heroine really wanted from you, eh? I hear she is quite the heartbreaker.”

“Don’t be so dense, Bain.” Another prince, sitting a few places away from Juliet, interjects, rolling his eyes. He seems to be the only prince not drinking ale and instead has a flute of champagne. His hair is long and snowy, tied up in an easy high ponytail for the evening. (Though Willow is almost positive it was in braids earlier at the banquet.) Willow does remember him from earlier. Prince Ivory. His brown face is long with a thin, slender nose. His spindly fingers wrap around the flute stem like garter snakes and he wears nonchalance like it's his perfume. “The heroine was merely performing her duties.” He rolls his eyes, over-bored with this. “Do you listen to all that ladies gossip because you wish to be one? I do recall the stories of the little Lord Bain sneaking into his sister's closets.” Ivory smirks. The squires stare wide eyed between the princes.

Bain meets him with an even gaze, his yellow and purple-splashed feathers not even ruffling despite the jab. “Ah, your memory is far too long, Ivory.” Bain’s smile is easy, his tone cordial. From the way these two princes interact, Willow guesses that they have a friendship that started when they were little lords together. He shrugs as he takes a swallow of his drink. “The August girl’s reputation precedes her and so I merely wanted to know. Especially if she is to be the heroine for all of Folklore. I wish to know where her head is at.”

“I hadn’t the faintest idea you cared so much for the heroines’ plight.”

“Oh, not really.” His finger circles around the edge of his tankard. Then he leans in conspiratorially. “But she’ll need to be wed someday and I imagine it’d be rather nice to have a wife who can do more than darn my socks.”

“You would still consider her after her display at dinner?” Another prince chimes in, looking incredulous. This one Willow does not recall, but he's very freckly. 'Prince Freckles...'

“Why should I care how she conducts herself?” Bain asks with a shrug. “She is clearly trying to gain the attention of a man who enjoys a challenge and after all my accolades slaying worse beasts, I think taming the one in her could be rather rewarding. Besides, if my children are half as rowdy as I was when I was a boy, I’ll need a woman with some grit.”

Willow drops her tankard following these remarks, drawing all eyes over to her. Her face is flush from the alcohol and the conversation, but her twitching brow reveals her emotions more than she’d care to admit. Prince Bain cocks his to meet hers. “Were you interested in her, Sir Carter? Am I competing with a Wonderlandian for the heroine? Or,” his eyes flash, looking at Juliet, “Do you just have a thing for redheads?”

 

[ellarose]

Perhaps they shouldn't have gone drinking after all. Did they really require a night like this to confirm what Juliet already knows about these men? In retrospect, it does seem rather foolish. (Although she supposes it singles out a potential ally in Prince Evren, who she can at the very least admire for refusing to attend.) Why did she let herself think for even a second that the conversation among them might take an interesting turn now that she's masquerading as a man? The men are always saying they have 'dire business' to attend to when they separate at dinners, discussing topics that are unfit for a woman's ears. But in all actuality, it's the same blather with a different flavor. They're gossips, too. Just with a pinch more crassness and entitlement. Disgusting. She supposes that's exactly the sentiment that Flynn and... and...

Nngh. Juliet takes another swig from her tankard, slamming it down with a little more vigor than intended. She purposefully ignores the men and their talk. Listening will only stoke the flames in her. (The 'beast'.) Little do they know that if she truly allowed the beast in her to go free, it'd slay every single one of these men in an instant. Unimpressed with the conversation, she searches the tavern for something else to preoccupy herself with. Pixies. Dart board. When she takes note of a frog with a low voice taking to the piano on stage, she registers that Willow needs her.

Juliet's gaze flickers between the tankard on the floor and Willow's rosy brow and twitching cheeks. Rosy cheeks and twitching brow. A flutter rises in her chest and she defines it as worry. That's what it is. (It's not like she's touched or anything, that Willow might be feeling this way on her behalf.) They've been pushed to drink far too much. When the sorceress brought it up, she should have suggested throwing their drinks over their shoulders as another Wonderlandian tradition. "Or do you just have a thing for redheads?" The archer averts her gaze in time to see Bain's attention fixed on her. How in the world did he come to that conclusion?

While Juliet might be a bit blitzed from the drinks, she's a Wonderlandian prince. She can spin a number of nonsensical anecdotes from this's, thats, and thingamajigs... which is to say that she can work with 'a thing'.

"Oh. Is that meant to be a riddle?" Juliet scrunches her nose confusedly, smudging everything Prince Bain just tried to imply. "Because I am not sure what things have to do with redheads. Sir Carter simply tires of all this..." She languidly whirls her hand in a circle as she searches her mind for the right word, "Gobbledygook. You've promised us an evening of whimsy and fun! Yet the whimsy and fun is nowhere to be found. Is this how you Non-Wonderlandians spend your hours? I pity you all indeed."

"No, no." Prince Bain tries to shake her words with an easygoing laugh and Juliet silently vows to twist everything that comes out of his mouth into a soft pretzel. (Ah. Soft pretzels.) These men are going to be so confused by the time she's through with them. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding. What I meant to say was--"

"Misunderstanding. Who is Miss Under Standing?" Juliet interrupts, emboldened by the alcohol. She leans towards Prince Bain, propping her elbows on the bar and her chin in her hands. She raises her eyebrows as she awaits his answer. "Your lover, perhaps?"

That earns a laugh from Prince Ivory, who claps Prince Bain jovially on the shoulder. "Will you introduce us, mate?" A couple of laughs and jeers trickle in from the back of the group.

"No." Prince Bain repeats, sounding a fraction less amused this time around. "No. That isn't..." His sobering demeanor silences a few of the laughs behind them, squires coughing and averting their eyes before they can get themselves into too much trouble. He's struggling to come up with something else to say, perhaps considering more deeply now how his words might be perceived.

Juliet, meanwhile, grins like a cat who caught a mouse, content to have told the prince to fuck off in Wonderlandian.

"I recall you saying you enjoy a challenge... shall we play a round of darts?" Juliet changes the subject, sparing the prince of having to come up with some way to salvage this hopeless conversation. "Although it seems as though you have already forfeited your quest for the princess's affections. Is it because you expect to lose?"

Prince Bain's eyes flash. Clearly, it's an offer he can't refuse now that his pride has been put into question. The younger squires and princes glance wide-eyed between the two of them-- instantly entertained by the prospect of watching a game unfold. It doesn't take long before their group moves across the tavern to the dart boards.

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the fact that she's a prince, but Juliet doesn't hold back. She sweeps three rounds and makes it look effortless. And now she's well on her way to claiming a fourth. (The satisfaction would be sweeter if the pompous prince knew that he was currently competing with Juliet August herself-- but it's still immensely satisfying.) Her aim is slightly off in her inebriated state-- but overall, her skill is still a testament to her years of practice as an archer. If she were pettier and drunker, she might have started throwing darts at Prince Bain... but the night isn't over yet.

Between turns, Juliet tells Willow at some point to 'just throw the drinks if you don't want them.' They're continually passed around to the point where it's becoming a challenge to keep track. (At some point, the game of darts turns into a drinking game in regards to points and bets.) She still vaugely remembers what Willow said about preventing her from having more than two drinks. Or something along those lines. Perhaps it would be for the best to leave after finishing this fourth round...

Meanwhile, a young squire with a monkey companion on his shoulder nudges Willow. "Excuse me. He lost his hat." He admits shyly, gesturing to the monkey before glancing around the bustling tavern. The monkey companion gazes at her with sad eyes while patting their hatless head. "Have you seen it anywhere? Or..." He coughs. "I heard Wonderlandians sometimes carry spare hats around with them? Is that true?"

 

[starboob]

William Jameson is beyond saving at this point. She has reached the invincible stage of being drunk where all caution (as well as logic) has been thrown to the wind. Each drink that is passed to her is downed before she can even think, ‘This is a bad idea.’ The once reasonable and responsible Willow James is a relic of the past! No more shall she be tied down by the chains of responsibility. No more! She is William Jameson and she is here for a good time, not a long time.

This is to say, William (Willow) is tapping deviously at the sides of her tankard as she scans the bar for something to entertain her mischievous ways. (Sawyer would be so upset if she knew she were missing an episode of William Jameson: International Haver of Fun.) Her dark eyes peer curiously at the tankards of ale her companions have set down while they take turns fighting for second place (no one has even come close to defeating Juliet). ‘Double, double toil and trouble…’ The young sorceress smirks, slyly sidling over to Prince Bain’s ale, the glyph just on the tip of her finger when the young squire nudges her.

William practically jumps out of her skin, throwing up her hands in what she assumes is an intimidating karate pose, but in actuality only makes her look like a standing crumpled up paper ball. Ah, just a lad and his monkey. As her heart settles down, she puts her leg down and straightens out her tunic. “A missing hat you say?” The sorceress scratches the top of her head, her heart aching for the poor companion. She remembers seeing the monkey in the cutest little top hat earlier and now they look naked. It’s uncomfortable. “Unfortunately, I gave away all my spare caps on our travels—you heard of our tales through This, That, and There, no? Yes, well, somewhere along the way, I gave my hats away to a lovely school of fish. They were in dire need.” She speaks on this subject gravely, a hand falling over her heart. “No matter, however! For Wonderlandians are excellent at paper crafts. Have you any paper, my good sir?”

The squire, whose name she remembers is Asher, shakes his head. William Jameson, never one to give up, excuses herself rather abruptly and crawls through the bar in search for a spare scrap of paper. She ends up pilfering a roll of parchment from some scribe or scholar, carefully tearing off a square and slipping the roll back into the bag before he can even notice that it's missing. (No harm, no foul.) When she rejoins Asher with the newly produced paper, she shows him how to fold a hat for his companion. “This ought to hold your poor fellow over for the evening.” She presents the monkey with the cap for inspection. They take it, flip it around, open and close the flap, and then set it just so on their head. They cross their arms and hold up their nose, appearing most regal now that they have a little triangle upon their head. The companion sticks out their paw for William to shake and she offers her finger. “Brilliant. They look utterly dashing. Now,” she leans in conspiratorially, “would you like to have some real Wonderlandian fun?”

“What sort of fun?” Asher raises a brow. Skeptical with a flavor of intrigue. William can work with this. “It better not be any funny business.” This is a bold claim from the guy who has a monkey companion that insists on wearing a hat, but she doesn’t point this out. “I wish not to get into any trouble with my lord prince.”

“Understandable. Admirable.” William nods sagely, scanning the crowd for his prince, a rather severe looking gentleman who has probably never smiled in his life. Even now, with his cheeks stained red from the alcohol, Prince Grinnell looks as stone faced as any statue. Unfortunately, William Jameson cannot promise that the prince will be spared from her antics as William Jameson has very few boundaries and that man looks like he could use a wallop of funny business. “We shan’t be caught—”

“Caught? What are you two planning, hmm?” None other than Prince Bain comes up behind the two squires, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. He sways on unsteady feet, using the equally unsteady squires for balance. “I hope it’s nothing bad.”

“Nonsense.” She can practically see the regret bubbling up in Prince Bain’s eyes as if he’s somehow forgotten Declan Carter is a Wonderlandian. But before he can pull away or stop her, she continues. “Why ever would I plan something bad? I only plan for the very best, Prince Bain. Though I suppose I should not be surprised by your confusion! You have already planned to lose.”

The prince’s face darkens in warning, but William Jameson remains oblivious to this and happily prattles on. “I mean, really, why bother with the tournament if you have already given up!”

“Please, Sir Carter, lower your voice—”

Ordinarily, it would mortify Willow to know that she’s drawing so much attention to herself, but William Jameson? William Jameson thrives under the spotlight. “What? You don’t want the princess to know? Well, I dare say she will be finding—” The rest of whatever William might have said turns into muffles as Prince Bain puts his hand over her mouth. Naturally, having grown up with Leif and a multitude of cousins, she licks the prince’s hand. He recoils immediately, not nearly as amused as the grinning William Jameson. Poor Asher stands between them as a helpless witness, unsure of whether he should slink into the shadows or attempt to turn invisible.

“Why you little—”

“I am much larger than I was this morning, Prince Bain. How about yourself? You seem smaller since we last spoke. Are you shrinking?”

It is a miracle that William does not get punched in the nose right then and there. Perhaps she is just lucky that there are so many witnesses and the prince still has an image to maintain even if she’s already convinced that he’s trash. He inhales sharply and pulls back his lips in a smile, visibly straining to keep his composure. He places his hand on William’s shoulder, digging his fingers into her skin. “I must always remember when I am speaking to a Wonderlandian, for you all have a keen knack for making nonsense from nothing." The pressure on her shoulder builds as the prince speaks, causing William to jerk back, but the prince holds firm and keeps her in place. "It has been a pleasure to make your and your lord prince’s acquaintance. Unfortunately, the hour is late and we mustn’t be too tired for the tournament tomorrow. Or, dare I say, later this morning.” He shoves William with a smile. It's slight enough that it's not obvious he's shoved her and her stumbling back into the table behind her could be passed off as her own drunken unsteadiness. “Come lads, let us retire.”

William bumps against the table, catching herself before she can fall over entirely. She reaches to rub the ache from her shoulder, the blood in her veins simmering as she eyes the prince. In spite of this, her lips stretch into a smile and she reaches for the princes hand, sandwiching it between hers. “Ah, but what about one last round, eh?” Without waiting for his response, she reaches behind her for the nearest tankard, pulling one directly from a server's platter. “Allow me to share another Wonderlandian custom with you tonight, my good lord.” She then proceeds to dump the ale over the stupid prince's stupid head.

 

[ellarose]

Willow James is fearless. She's sparkling, breathtaking. They need to get out of there. Fast.

Fortunately for them, Juliet August specializes in fast. At the first sign of danger she pushes through the crowd and pulls Willow back by the arm before Prince Bain can shape his hand into a fist. Together they weave between the bewildered princes and squires, duck under a server's tray (he drops it afterwards and the drinks atop spill all over some prince whatshisname) and then the heroines of love bolt out of the tavern. Without chancing a look behind them, Juliet doesn't stop running for a second, tugging Willow behind her down Amoria's winding cobblestone roads. She snorts. When they hit an exhilarating momentum she breaks out laughing like a little kid.

For a moment, Juliet is nostalgic. It's as if she's gone back in time, back to when things were simpler. Relishing the wind in her hair while she escapes a suffocating party in search of midnight adventures... fates. How long has it been since she last laughed like that?

Juliet guides Willow into a deserted alleyway before at last coming to a stop. The cold night air burns her lungs as she gasps for breath. Once she's more or less settled, she pokes her head out to see if an angry mob of princes led by Bain is pursuing them... but the only unusual thing she notices behind them now is a flickering lamppost. They're in the clear. For the time being, at least. Tomorrow's a new day and she's certain that they've officially made an enemy of Prince Bain. While this could prove to be a serious issue for them in the future...

At present, it's really funny. Juliet can't even think about it with a straight face.

Juliet ducks back into the alleyway, belatedly realizing just how narrow it is. It also occurs to her that she's staring at Willow-Willow's face instead of Declan-Willow's face. (Hm. When did that happen? Did their disguises wear off or did Willow--? Well, regardless of the reason... no one's around to see them now. It's fine.) It also occurs to Juliet just how close their faces are. She feels the warmth radiating off the rosy-cheeked sorceress standing across from her. When they're standing this close, she can count the freckles dusting over her nose and cheeks, see the faint shine of moonlight streaked in her green eyes...

Sparkling zings of light flicker over their thread like stars in the dark. Rather than backing away, Juliet stares at Willow intently. This person she's been traveling with. Fighting alongside. This person who has told her stories and now made her laugh. She blinks once. Twice. Her own cheeks are burning red... but it's because of the cold. The alcohol. The atmosphere. Her cursed... complexion. The silence and the proximity between them bring a few implications to mind that she must chase away before they catch up with her.

"It could have been worse." Juliet resurfaces, averting her gaze as she considers the events of the evening. She knows that the enormity of what Willow just did may catch up with her eventually. She won't hold her in contempt for it. He had it coming. Pfft. The look on his face. The archer wears a little smirk with a mischievous edge. "...I thought about throwing a dart at him."

Juliet nods out at the street to suggest that they keep moving, guiding Willow out of the alleyway and offering her arm in case she needs it to keep her balance. As they walk, she automatically takes the long way back to the castle to avoid encountering Prince Bain or any of the others.

Thoughts of Prince Bain and his smug face infuriates her all over again. Speaking of women (her, specifically) like they're creatures to be tamed? It occurs to Juliet that she could shoot him with something far worse than a dart... but the thought accompanies a stab of guilt while she walks next to Willow. No. It's too risky.

Even so, Juliet's not too intimidated by the prince. At least not as a competitor. If tonight confirmed anything beyond Prince Bain being a fucking blunderbuss, it's that she has a superior aim. And as Prince Jayden, she can enter competitions without being made to abstain or downplay her efforts preserve the man's pride. What worries her most is the future beyond the tournament. His... interest. While it is a relief to know he isn't set on Elise's heart, she can't help...

No. It won't come to that. Not again. The Augusts would be delighted to know she's captured the attention of a prince, indeed. But it's never going to happen. They can't control her anymore. She won't let them.

"He's truly insufferable. If we hadn't made an enemy of him tonight, it would have happened eventually." Juliet continues. With the way he conducted himself, it'd have been an inevitability. Willow doesn't deserve to feel guilty for even a second. Especially when she considers those moments just before the sorceress threw her drink over him, grabbing her the way he did. It boils her blood even more. "...Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

 

[starboob]

Juliet’s laugh is like sunshine coming through a rainstorm. It’s like drops of honey on a freshly baked biscuit, golden and sweet. It is everything that Willow wants to drown in. In fact, were she to trip on a cobblestone and break open her skull like Humpty Dumpty, she would at least fall apart knowing what Juliet August’s laugh sounds like and that would make it all worth it. ‘Yikes. Way to be dark.’

The drunken sorceress hardly has control over her thoughts, to be fair, so she doesn’t think much of the imagery that comes to mind with her last thought and it hardly lingers anyway. Delightedly, she lets herself be pulled through Amoria’s winding streets and narrow alleys, erasing those macabre thoughts in favor of the feeling of Juliet's hand in hers.

Her back hits the alley wall harder than she means, gravity and force betraying her body that moves without care or much control. Though she doesn’t seem to notice the dull ache—something that will undoubtedly become a later Willow problem—and simply stares at the moonlit archer. Then she stares at the alley. The street. She blinks. ‘How did I get here?’

Vaguely, she remembers being in the tavern. She remembers a soaked and angry Prince Bain. Then there was Juliet’s laugh and they were transported here. ‘Does Juliet… Can Juliet teleport with her laugh?’

This is a thrilling thought, one she intends to voice, but then Juliet is standing in front of her. Standing so close to her that she can hear her heartbeat and see her pulse against her neck. She’s suddenly aware of the cupid’s bow of the archer's lips, pulling her in. Their thread sparks from both ends and Willow swallows, somehow sobering and becoming more drunk all at once. Her lips part just slightly. ‘Kiss me.’

‘Kiss me,’ she thinks again, more insistent, but the moment leaves just as suddenly as it comes. The gay little sorceress deflates. At the same time, even in this state, she knows she would be upset if their first kiss happened under these circumstances. Pretty and atmospheric as the scene itself is, Willow would never recover from sharing a drunk first kiss with Juliet. It’s just not romantic. It’s just not sweet. For those reasons alone, she’s thankful that Juliet has more sense than she does, because she was ready to close the distance herself.

Belatedly, she also registers that they’re no longer in their Wonderland disguises. That can only mean the spells are tired and went to bed or that Willow maybe broke them at some point while they ran? (Well, she assumes that they ran. She honestly has no idea how they ended up in the alley.) Either way, the sorceress is surprisingly calm about this and takes it in stride. She isn’t even bothered when Juliet reminds her of the incident back at the tavern, no sense of shame or guilty flowing in her veins; perhaps because she’s praising her actions with a smirk and Willow would die for that smirk. She would die for it. And she would kill for her laugh.

“You should have thrown a dart at him.” Her words slur together and her grin is terribly lazy. It’s a good thing that Juliet offers her arm as they leave the alley, because Willow cannot keep her steps straight and keeps drifting this way and that as she walks. She bumps into Juliet a few times before she decides to tighten her grip around her arm and rest her cheek against Juliet’s shoulder. “He was sooo nosy. If you have to face him during the tournament, I hope you knock his ducking socks off.”

Just thinking about the lemon-berry prince flying off his horse and hitting the dirt causes her grin to widen. She’d like to see most of those princes knocked down, to be honest. While Bain had been the loudest back at the taven, the other princes hadn’t stopped him from saying all those things about Juliet. None of them said anything when he suggested that Declan might have a thing for his prince—as if that’s really so bad. Ivory sort of stepped in, though she doesn’t get the impression that he’s the champion of women. She gets the impression he’s more the champion of embarrassing Bain as it suits his own amusement.

She squeezes Juliet’s arm tighter as her thoughts linger on Bain’s comments about Juliet. She wants to tell Juliet that she won’t let them trap her in a marriage she doesn’t want, but even as drunk as she is, she doesn’t have the courage to say just that. The implications… their thread… She doesn’t want Juliet to think she’s only interested in saving her for her own interests—that is decidedly untrue! Most of all, she wants to protect Juliet’s desires, having seen how so few have considered what she wants as they dictate her life. They only assume they know what's best for the archer without ever listening to her. ‘I’ll be your champion, Juliet.’ She supposes she could say that, it’s safe enough, but before the opportunity presents itself, Juliet asks about her interaction with Bain.

“Oh, yeah,” Willow mumbles, reluctantly peeling herself away from Juliet’s shoulder. She undoes the tie on her tunic, pulls back the fabric, and shows the finger-shaped bruises over her shoulder. It doesn’t occur to her that she’s exposing more of herself to Juliet, not that she's revealing anything indecent. Even when the cold night air nips her skin, she doesn’t find herself embarrassed and simply pulls the fabric back over her shoulder with a shiver. “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine. I’ll live.” She shrugs, waving her hand through the air dismissively. “I think I got him back—of course, I wouldn’t complain if you knocked him around a few times during the tournament. For my honor,” she grins, nudging Juliet’s side.

As they near the castle grounds, still in their costumes, Willow asks Juliet to take her around to their room’s nearest balcony. From there, she somehow manages to open a mirror portal into their room—most likely drawing on the sheer force of knowledge that she cannot, under any circumstances, dance through the castle to avoid all those spying flowers and portraits in her current state of mind. After that, Willow does not remember changing into her pajamas nor does she remember actually tucking herself into the bed. Willow hardly remembers falling asleep.

All she knows is that at some unholy, ungodly hour trumpets blast right outside their window and jolt her awake. The room spins around her, the contents of her head feeling more like jelly than brains, and it takes the sorceress a full minute to reorient herself. She holds her head, hoping that that might make the room stop. (It doesn't.) “Oh gods…” She hiccups, pressing her eyes shut. “I think I’m still drunk.”

Lucky grumbles quietly next to her, annoyed that she's making so much noise when they're trying to sleep. So rude.

“Mistakes were made,” she continues, ignoring her dragon’s continued grumbles. As she tries to mentally review the events of last night, they only come back in pieces and flashes. She remembers drinking an absurd amount of beer (yucky) and then sneaking in through the garden gate to get back to their room. Outside of that, her memories of last night are one huge blank space. “So many mistakes…”

The sorceress flops over onto her side and immediately regrets that choice as the room starts spinning again and she can’t get it to stop. She allows herself a full five minutes of self pity before she crawls over to her warehouse backpack and slaps it a few times. A bottle of ibuprofen and a couple of Gatorades pop out from the bag. All three items hit her head, eliciting a quiet, defeated groan from the sorceress. Taking a deep breath, Willow flips herself over and searches the room for Juliet. She points to the bottles scattered around her head. “Take two of the pills and wash it down with the quench juice. Or suffer.”

…She’ll stop being dramatic in a few hours. Probably.