#leovilweek26

𓆩༻˚•∘♡∘•˚༺𓆪

Leona stared at her, she had been the entire night. The moment she stepped into the opulent ballrooms of Pyroxene's prized palace, Leona couldn't bear to look away from her, nor could anyone else for that matter.

She knew the princess was watching her, she must have, with the way her red stained lips curled up into a sly smile as their eyes met. Violet and green, amethysts and emeralds, regality and envy.

The green-eyed monster watched as the woman she so desperately craved for turned away, reaching her hand out to stroke a king's arm. A jovial king, so pleased to have such a beautiful prize giving him her focus, beaming a dopey smile at her. The king of Pyroxene, ruler of a kingdom whose size and power rivaled only that of the princess' own kingdom turned into nothing more than sap at her touch, oozing weakly into her embrace.

(How Leona wished she could be that king.)

She did not so much as spare the submitting sovereign a glance, eyes glinting as she continued to stare at the princess. The woman wrapped an arm around the king, over his neck and up his graying locks, her fair fingers splaying out across the back of his head, tips barely brushing against his silver crown. She pushed him closer to her (though, she did not need to push hard, as he melted easily against her on instinct, anyone would), pressing the older man against her breasts, practically spilling out from her dress in an intentional display. A better man would have looked at her beautiful face instead of them, a stronger man would have at least pretended not to at all, but he was neither.

She was a siren and the world was her prey, no matter how much wax one poured into their ears; she was impossible to block out. Leona would know, despite how little she'd tried.

The woman let out a mystifying laugh as her other hand rose, as elegant as the dancers from Leona's home, lifting a wine glass to her stained lips. The ballroom watched her drink, her eyes closing in delight at the taste, and Leona joined in, viewing the sight with dry lips and an aching want in her chest as the woman brought her lips to the king's.

Their kiss was nothing short of a piece of art, at least on her side. Her lips parted as they pressed against the man's wrinkled chaps, a stray drop of her drink falling out and trailing down her cheek. Her hand moved to cup the king's neck, pressing her thumb against his Adam's Apple, gently forcing it to swallow.

The king drank from her eagerly, whimpering with a childish delight. Leona wanted to reprimand him for his behavior, but in all honesty, she could not blame him. She opened her mouth, breathing in the sudden scent of poppyseed and oleander before meeting the mistress' eyes and smirking.

That woman had the power to turn the world into her prey, and she knew it. She already worked her magic on the king, and as of three months ago when Leona first came to that freezing palace, she'd worked it on Leona as well.

The princess could feel her lips on her own, could taste the tart flavor of the wine from Vil's tongue, aching for something more than her stare, but she was not the one who her siren chose to sing to in that moment.

Leona chose to stop listening to her song before she could get lost in it, or before gave into her justified urge to ripping that king's throat out. She turned away from the half-smitten couple, feeling the woman's eyes on her back as she exited from the ballroom and onto a balcony outside. A shiver ran down her back, and she pretended it was only from Pyroxene's winter breeze.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air and chasing away any lingering scent of belladonna that had settled within her. Yet, no amount of oxygen could ever hope to perform a miracle such as that. Leona knew this, just as she knew that she had no real desire to cure herself of its poison. More so, she wished that it would stay within her lungs forever, seeds rooting themselves deep within her chest so that they could bloom inside her come spring.

Leona's breath came out in airy puffs that lingered within the air as she made her way to the balcony railing. The view of Pyroxene from the palace was one she still couldn't get used to, mountainous hills dotted with year-round snow rather than rolling fields of savanna. Both of them had the same night sky though, with the same stars and moon that watched over them every night, twinkling teasingly as they gossiped over the world's head.

A giggle and a hushing whisper tickled the princess' ears as she glanced directly under her spot, finding two women looking over their shoulders to make sure their conversation went unheard. As it seemed, the stars were not the only ones gossiping tonight.

Leona leaned over the railing a bit more, trying to memorize their faces as their conversation continued.

"No, no, really, I do get it, I do!" One of the women sighed, bringing a fan to her face that was more of an accessory than anything else. Her flushed cheeps and occasional hiccups indicated she'd taken advantage of the ball's ample champagne. "She's only twenty, she is hardly old enough to know how to a lady should properly behave!"

Reaching a hand out to smack her companion's arm, the other woman let out a chiding complaint. "Are you hearing yourself? Twenty is more than old enough to know that there's a time and place for her behavior!" She then held up a finger, knowingly. "She's just so… so outward about their relationship! She's always all over him, it's unbecoming!"

Leona easily guessed who they were talking about, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from interrupting them. If they had a problem with what the king and his mistress did, then they ought to either bring it up to them or shut their mouths and stop complaining. More so, every complaint they had was at the mistress' expense, as though the king weren't an equal part of their relationship.

With a sigh, Leona continued to bite her tongue. Though, she did glance over the railing to make note of where they were with her ears raised to catch the older woman's continued words. "The only thing she has going for her is her looks, but those will fade with time. It's only a matter of years before the king takes a new mistress and replaces her!"

"Just as she replaced the late queen…" The younger of the two pouted, tapping the top of her fan against her chin. "Her poor Majesty, having to spend her final months watching another woman steal her husband away!"

Rolling her eyes, Leona reached a hand up to play with a few flowers within a pot nearby, sitting atop the railing carefully. She picked one, looking at the blue petals of the artificially-bloomed forget-me-nots with an absentminded frown. 'Is it stealing if he's the one who dragged you to his side?'

"She seduced the king during his grief!" Exclaiming loudly, the older woman crossed her arms and raised her nose in disapproval. "What a witch!"

"A witch!" The younger woman grabbed at her companion's arm, her cheeks growing more red. "That's exactly what she is! One of those seductive witches you hear about in fairy tales, luring people in with her looks. I bet that's why she wore that tonight!" 'That', of course, referring to the mistress' dress, or rather, the plunging neckline going all the way down to the end of her sternum. Save for that, it was an ordinary dress, long and black with a vine-like white pattern stretching down her waist as her skirts pooled around her.

Leona thought she looked more like a princess than she did a witch, but she'd admittedly been focusing on other aspects of the mistress' appearance more than she had the intricacies of her dress, so perhaps the two women saw something she didn't. She doubted it, though she'd gotten quite a good look.

Rather than her dress, perhaps they were talking about the mistress' shoes, which were-

"Perhaps she's trying to land someone new," The older of the two hummed before laughing and nudging her friend. "You've heard all about her sexcapades haven't you? The guards, the help, a noble or two!" She leaned in closer as a dark look overtook Leona's face. "I've even heard the prince is interested, he's always talking about her!"

"No!" Gasping, her friend shook her head, her red cheeks puffing in disagreement. "He-He couldn't be! Just a… a momentary lust, any young man would feel that way, he that's all! And besides, she's sleeping with his father, so-"

"As if that would stop her from jumping ship!" The older women waved her hand carelessly as Leona placed her hand atop the pot of forget-me-nots, offering a brief apology to the blooming-too-late flora. "She'll open her legs for anyone, even-"

The two women let out yelps as a flowerpot suddenly came shooting down toward them, only just missing the older woman's head by a hair.

The pot shattered against the ground, sending dry dirt and porcelain across their tailored gowns. Letting out terrified gasps, they stared up at where the pot came from, holding their hands over their heads for fear that another would come crashing down.

Leona smirked when they stared up at her. "Good evening, ladies," Her hand reached up from where it pushed the pot, and she curled her fingers to give them a wave. "Be careful out here, this breeze has a mind of its own."

One of the women opened their mouths to admonish Leona, but the elder of the two elbowed her companion before bowing before the princess. If the princess of Pyroxene's closest allied kingdom said it was the breeze, then it was the breeze and that was that. Leona was the one with the power, not them, and this little stunt was her way of reminding them.

It was odd, however. They had only been talking about Vil, whom the princess had yet to meet, so why the fury? Perhaps the rumors they'd heard about the Sunset Savanna's second princess were true, and she was as much of a horror as they'd heard.

Leona smiled at them. "As you were. Enjoy your evening." She was fighting every inch of herself to stop from leaping off that balcony and making sure they could never speak such vulgarities again, only stopping herself by recalling a promise she made to her brother to not cause any trouble.

(Of course, she only made that promise so that she could visit Pyroxene in his stead to redo their trade agreements, desperate to prove that she had worth in their kingdom. Who would have guessed that she'd have met someone who made her want to throw away her promise so easily?)

Her anger quickly vanished when she turned, finding the very woman she'd been longing for standing by the door, leaning against its frame as she stared at the princess with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smile.

Vil Schoenheit, mistress to the reigning king of Pyroxene, sacrificial lamb to the kingdom's gossip papers, a former actress who was so beautiful that she had been dubbed as Fairest One of All, a title she held onto despite no longer being allowed to perform.

She held her hand out to Leona, reaching to take the princess'. Leona closed the gap between them in an instant, willingly hypnotized by the woman before her. Vil pressed a kiss to the back of the princess' hand before bowing before her. "Your Highness, it has been too long."

Vil lifted her head, meeting Leona's eyes. "Have you been well?"

For anyone else in the world, Leona would have grinned at seeing them bowing before her. Yet, when it came to Vil, everything was different, she didn't want to see her kneeling, but rather standing beside her, tall and proud as she always was. If they could not stand together, she would rather not stand at all. She took Vil's hand and returned the gesture, kneeling before the mistress as she pressed her knuckles to her forehead. "I've been horrible."

Vil's hand pulled away from Leona's, but before the princess could complain, it moved to cup her cheek. Leona ignored that this was the same gesture Vil did to the king, distracting herself by nuzzling into the mistress' palm. "A pity that you haven't been well. You have my sympathies."

She glanced over her shoulder, a pointless task since she already knew they were alone. She wouldn't have gone to Leona if they weren't. Still, it was only after she was certain that her posture relaxed. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Dancing with a geezer will do that to you." Leona received a light smack on her cheek for that remark, though she knew Vil didn't put any anger into it. The blonde let out a huff and moved down an outdoor staircase leading away from the ballroom and into the gardens. She paused as she walked past a shattered flowerpot, glancing up at the balcony above it before giving Leona a look.

When the princess shrugged, the mistress turned from her, lips pursed to keep herself from smiling before she continued toward the garden. A Pyroxean winter was brutal, even within the palace grounds, and neither one of them were exactly dressed warm, but it was best for them to meet outside now, where their chances of anyone else watching was slim.

Vil sat at one of the many benches littering the garden walkways, letting out a groan. "I'm not tired because of the geezer, I know how to dance with a geezer," As Leona moved to join her on the bench, she lifted up her skirt to reveal her shoes. "It's these. Whomever invented glass slippers is officially on my hit list."

As she said, her heels were entirely made of glass, shards of crystallized sand shimmering with each step she took, letting out a charming chime as she stepped across the shimmering concrete dappling the garden's walkways. Atop the vamp of the heel sat a glass sculpture of an apple, intricately welded and adorned with the tiniest of crystal leaves. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears that went into such a pair of shoes was uncountable, and Vil was grateful that she was able to wear something that so closely rivaled her own beauty.

Having said that, it was a rather arduous chore to have to perfectly distribute her weight so as to not shatter her shoes as she danced, and she was perfectly exhausted. She didn't like having to excuse herself early from a ball, but she'd reached her wits end.

(And besides. She wanted to see Leona.)

Leona let out a sympathetic sound as she reached to touch Vil's leg, examining her ankle. When she saw that the woman's fair skin was adorned with red blemishes and blisters, the princess' tail twitched sourly. "Looks painful," She pulled the shoes off, and Vil let out a content sigh. Now, when her tail twitched, it did so happily. "Why did you wear them if you were planning on dancing?"

Vil let out a hum as she held her hands out to take the shoes from the princess. "His Majesty gave them to me for tonight," She'd had little choice in the matter. "Gifting someone glass shoes in Pyroxene is quite the big deal, especially ones as detailed as these. It would have been rude not to wear them."

Her eyebrows furrowing together, Leona scoffed. "Then be rude. Better to be a bitch then wear something that'll hurt yourself," When Vil made a disagreeing noise, the princess held the shoes up, refusing to give them back to the blonde. "Seriously, Vil."

Huffing, Vil leaned forward to take the shoes back from Leona, only for the princess to stand, holding the shoes up above her head and out of the blonde's sitting grasp. Of course, Vil made her displeasure known, though she did not stand, instead slamming her fists against the frigid marble of the bench. "Leona! Give me back my shoes, it isn't a big deal!"

"It is a big deal." Taking a step away from the younger woman, Leona tightened her grip on the glass heels. Their touch was cold despite being so recently removed from the mistress' body heat, cold enough that if one weren't informed, they could easily believe it was made of ice rather than glass.

What a picture would that be, the icy shards melting against Vil's skin as she danced, dripping down her legs and leaving miniature lakes with each step she took. Trailing after Vil so that Leona could always find her no matter how far she ran.

The princess cleared her throat, and Vil raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Leona turned away from Vil, lowering the shoes to hold them against her chest. "You're not wearing these again, end of story."

"Feel free to tell the His Majesty that." Vil scoffed, though she still hadn't gotten up. Leona snuck a peek at her feet, feeling a low growl emitting from her throat at how red they were, close to bleeding, even. She ought to shove those heels onto the king's feet, see how he likes dancing atop glass knives!

(There were a lot of things she's like to do to the king for Vil's sake, really.)

Instead, she put her anger to good use, pulling off the red belt keeping the top portion of her shukas closed and tying what she could around Vil's ankle. The blonde watched Leona before shaking her head with a sigh. "I have bandages back in my room, I'll put them on when I get there."

She placed her hands on top of Leona's, gently undoing the haphazardly-made wrap and picking up the belt. "To do that, I'll need my shoes back," Placing her hands on Leona's waist, she put the belt back on the older woman, not tightening it. "Please."

Leona let out an annoyed noise, holding the shoes close to her chest. She then let out a pained grunt when Vil tightened the belt, the wind leaving her lungs.

As Leona sputtered (though her grip remained remarkably tight on Vil's shoes), Vil released her and spoke quickly. "I am not walking back barefoot! I am the king's prized mistress and I live in a castle, I do not embarrass myself by walking without shoes," She held her hand out as Leona finished catching her breath. "So give them back lest you wish for me to lose face."

It was a good argument, or would have been if Vil had any face left to lose. She wasn't exactly adored by the nobles of Pyroxene that could spot her disgracing herself by walking back to her room barefoot. She was disliked, really, for anything. For her lack of a noble title, her acting profession, her sensuality, the list went on.

(Ironic that every reason Vil had for being hated fell under the exact list of reasons why Leona was so smitten with her.)

Though Leona could have easily countered Vil's argument, she instead let out a considering hum. She did respect Vil, more than anyone else, and if the idea of saving face was truly important to Vil then Leona wanted to respect it as well. Still, the idea of Vil continuing to wear the king's poison-laced gift left a sour taste on Leona's tongue.

"We're an an impasse, then," Leona held the shoes up in one hand, holding them by their counters. As they swung, they hit against each other and let out a lovely chime. "Because I have no intention of ever letting you put these back on your feet."

"Hm, it seems we are," Vil hummed, leaning back in her seat. As she did so, she crossed her legs, making sure to sway her foot ever-so-slightly, tapping her blistered sole against the air. Her toe twitched, as though beckoning Leona closer, and of course the princess had no plans of resisting the mistress' summons.

She knelt to the ground before Vil, setting the shoes down beside her before reaching out for the blonde. Placing one hand on top of Vil's exposed knee, the other found itself resting atop the younger woman's waist, fingers spreading across the silky fabric of her dress.

Vil did nothing to push her away, instead placing her hand against Leona's cheek as her eyes searched the princess' face for something she already knew was there. Their foreheads pressed against each other, the mistress' skin resting against beads of the princess' esipelu, and Vil closed her eyes as she breathed in deeply.

Releasing the breath she'd just taken, Vil's foot tapped against Leona's bicep. "It hurts for me to walk."

Leona's hand trailed down Vil's leg until stopping at her ankle. She circled her fingers around the appendage, pulling it and the woman it was attached to closer. Staring directly at the most hated woman in Pyroxene, the princess lowered herself down to press a kiss to the bridge of Vil's foot.

Vil leaned her head back, a smile creeping along her face as Leona lifted her head. The lips that had just pressed against her parted, and the older woman's voice poured through them. "I'll carry you."

Those were the words Vil had been wishing to hear, to see if she could get the proud princess to offer such a thing. She batted her eyes at Leona, coy and innocent. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask," Leona knew that Vil was playing with her, that she wanted to see what Leona would put herself through for her sake. This was rather silly, however, for Leona would do far worse for far less if it for her. She turned around, holding her hands behind her back. "I'm carrying you. Come on."

After one more protest for proprieties sake, Leona felt Vil's arms wrap around her neck and felt her legs wrap around her waist. Leona smirked, picking up the shoes in one hand before lifting her hand against the back of the younger woman's thighs.

She stood easily, carrying Vil as though it were second nature. "Don't let go of me."

Vil's grip around her neck tightened, and she felt the woman she wasn't supposed to feel this way for press her chin atop her own shoulder. "I've no intention of ever doing something as idiotic as that," She nodded ahead. "Cross the gardens and get inside, it's freezing."

It was, but Leona didn't feel cold at all. They, or rather, Leona walked in silence. She tried to keep her steps smooth, gliding the way she'd been instructed to by her etiquette tutors (the first time in ages she'd bothered to recall their teachings), wanting to jostle Vil around as little as possible. Vil did not complain, so by all accounts, Leona must have been walking rather smoothly.

The blonde was deep in thought, and as much as Leona enjoyed the occasional silence, she would have much rather been able to hear Vil's voice during the short moments they were allowed together. When they reached a door leading back into the palace, Leona carefully moved one hand from underneath Vil to lift its handle, speaking as she did so. "What are you thinking about?"

"Shoes."

"I'll buy you new shoes," Leona's grip on the glass slippers tightened, and she would have liked to release them, shattering the bastards into a thousand pieces beneath her. The only thing stopping her was the idea that if she did, the glass might hit Vil were they to explode. "I'm not giving them back."

"Hmph," Vil didn't sound too upset, resting her forehead against the back of the princess' neck. "You still should give them back," Leona could feel the wispy hairs of the blonde's eyebrows relaxing against her. "I was so happy when I got them, when the His Majesty gave them to me. I felt so beautiful when I first put them on."

Her voice went quiet, and her grip grew tighter. "The longer they stayed on, the more they began to hurt," She peeked past Leona's shoulder to glance toward the shoes. "Pyroxene has a story about glass shoes, you know."

Leona was familiar with the tale. "The one with the maid and the fairy?"

"And the prince, who was so smitten with her upon their first meeting that he took her shoe, the only thing she left after fleeing from him," They walked past a window, and a sliver of moonlight shot down above them. It landed atop the shoe, causing it to gleam brighter than before, as though listening to Vil's story. "He placed the shoe on every single woman in the kingdom, only stopping once he found it's rightful owner. He plucked her out of poverty and carried her away back to his castle."

"Where they lived happily ever after," Leona finished the story, continuing forward and out of the moonlight, into the shadows. The hallway was lined with windows, seeming to stretch onward for an eternity, dotting the darkness with light every few steps. Each window was damp with condensation, small droplets forming along their rim and hanging stagnant. Before one could hope to feel any trace of warmth that the cold moonlight could offer, forward movement demanded one must ever stay within the light. "The end."

Vil slowly moved one hand off of Leona, placing it against one of the windows. It dragged across the glass as Leona continued forward, leaving a trail of behind. "The end, right?" She made a spiral with her finger, forming a ribbon as the princess continued onward. "Giving someone glass slippers is meant to symbolize deep love, you know."

"I know."

"A deep love, where you would go through a million others until you find her, where you save her from her horrible life, where you're her hero. You drag her out of the life she hated  and place her atop a throne," Vil's hands shook, and Leona wasn't able to tell if it was out of anger or sadness. "Where she can never step out of line without breaking the glass into a million pieces. If she ever dares to shirk what the prince has given her, if she ever dares to think of anything but her savior, she'll be punished."

There were more stories like that. Wives with wandering eyes being waterboarded, lovers who lusted for another disappearing, queens with queries being sent to the wolves. One of the more popular stories spoke of a former king's mistress who ended up unknowingly eating her companion, only finding out once she noticed a nail in her nightly stew.

Leona cleared her throat, adjusting her grip on Vil so the blonde sat higher. "We're all following in the footsteps of those who first stepped out of line, aren't we?" When Vil didn't say anything, the princess continued. "Do you remember what you were doing when we first met?"

It was only three months ago, such a short time to feel the way she did. "You were in the garden, picking flowers," Oleander, to be precise, a flower Leona was more than familiar with. "You interrupted my nap and I snapped at you."

Vil's voice was still quiet, though it was laced with fond recollection. "I snapped back, saying you were interrupting my gardening time." While Vil spent her nights with His Majesty, her days were spent either avoiding the prince in her room or gardening by herself. Well, by herself, until Leona ruined her solitude.

"I thought you were beautiful. Especially when you were yelling at me."

"Thanks," Vil's voice was louder now, dry and sarcastic. "I thought you were an asshole."

Leona's grip on Vil loosened just enough so that the younger woman slipped. She laughed when the woman let out a yelp and grabbed onto her in a panic. Her laughter only grew louder when Vil smacked her back. "An initial deduction that was clearly accurate! You asshole!"

The princess leaned her head back, making sure to adjust her grip on Vil so the woman had no way of falling. "An asshole and proud of it~!" It seemed as though the hallway that Vil sent Leona on lasted forever, something that the princess had no plans on complaining about.

Vil's hand stretched across Leona's shoulders, playing with the fuzzy buzz of her hair before moving down to press against the vibrant beads surrounding her neck. She opened her mouth to comment on their beauty, but was distracted when a beam of moonlight struck her glass slippers within Leona's hand, the light shining right across her face.

Clicking her tongue, Vil closed her eyes and pressed her face against Leona's back. "I would have much preferred iron shoes to glass."

"Iron shoes? They might have been easier to dance in, but they would be really heavy."

"Well, yes, but their meaning is far more interesting," Vil breathed in Leona's scent of sand, minty dagga, and the underlying aroma of ochre. "The Fairest Queen herself is said to have worn a pair of iron shoes, she would often dance with them until they became so hot that smoke could be seen emerging from them," She opened her eyes and glanced down at her own feet, throbbing in a dull pain. "She was even buried with them."

Leona's eyebrows furrowed together. "So hot that smoke came from them?"

Vil kicked at Leona's side, chuckling. "It's a legend, obviously they exaggerate things."

"Right," The princess smirked, spotting an end to the hallway. She made sure to walk slower as she neared it, not wanting to have to let go of Vil. "And you want those shoes, Vil? You want the Fairest Queen's shoes?"

After a moment of stillness, Vil nodded. "Every little girl dreams of dancing in the Fairest Queen's shoes, I'm not any different from them." She did not look at the glass shoes, nor the secret promise they carried with each step she took while wearing them.

Her tone was off, filled with a melancholy that gave Leona pause. She turned over her shoulder to ask Vil what was wrong, and yet she didn't have the chance. She'd walked forward, rounding a corner, to reveal not another hallway but an entirely different room.

It was an unused ballroom, abandoned for the more modern one currently in use at that very moment to celebrate the princess' final night at their palace. All of its luxuries, it's painted ceiling and dust-stained chandelier, its long windows overlooking the royal gardens, it was entirely abandoned. Most heartrendingly abandoned of them all was the decoration laying just under the women's feet.

A circular pane of glass stood within the center of the floor, spanning far across the ballroom, meant to shine from the light of the chandelier as dancers tested its durability. Impractical and beautiful, a perfect way to describe Leona's own feelings for Vil.

Vil, who had since fallen from the princess' grasp, taking the glass slippers from Leona before making her way to the center of the unused ballroom. She held the shoes to her chest, frowning when they failed to catch any moonlight from the windows. Instead, they sat dully in her gasp.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the glass slippers. "Ugly, aren't they?"

Leona stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Vil and hugging her from behind. "Everything is ugly in comparison to you."

She felt Vil laugh against her and smiled as well when the blonde nodded in agreement. "I had a plan, you know. I was going to stick it out here, I was going to..." She swallowed, looking up at Leona. "This. You and I, I don't know what we are, or why I can't stop thinking about you, I barely even know you, but I want…" Her breath caught in her throat and she screwed her eyes shut. "I want, Leona, I want you more than I've ever wanted."

The princess's hands trailed up the woman's arms, finishing right atop her fingers as they held those ugly slippers together. "I don't know what this is either. I'm not like this Vil, I'm not romantic, I don't pine, I don't…" She shook her head. "I don't want, not in the way I want you!"

Huffing out a laugh, Vil let herself feel happy at the princess' hands surrounding her own, trapping them between her warmth and the icy chill of the glass slippers. "I had a plan. Keep my head down, accept their hate, let the geezer do what he wants, stick it out until he died, but you…"

Leona joined in on the laughter, pressing her cheek against Vil's. "I'll get you out of this place. I'll marry you, even."

"Marry?" Vil gasped, so startled that she almost dropped her shoes as she turned toward Leona. "What do you mean by…" Her gaze narrowed. "You're obsessed with me."

Leona moved closer to Vil, a smile creeping across her face. "You made me obsessed with you of your own free choice," She nuzzled the blonde's cheek. "So take responsibility and marry me."

The king's mistress tried not to smile. "I didn't make you into anything you weren't already," She turned her gaze back to the glass heels in her hands. "Marry a princess or stay a king's mistress, the choice is obvious, isn't it?"

With that, she released her grip on the shoes. As they shattered into a thousand pieces of glass the moonlight hit them just right so that beams of light danced throughout the room. It would have been blinding, had Leona been looking at them.

Vil's smile was all she needed, bright as she laced her fingers with Leona's. "Come to my room, Leona, and make your wife happy."

More than anything, Leona wanted to say yes, but she paused, if only to tease her eventual wife. "And what about your king? Won't he be coming by your room tonight?"

Vil rolled her eyes. "You're cute."

For she and Leona both knew that the king was already lying on his bed, eyes shut and mouth parted in a snore with the sweet taste of oleander on his tongue. Vil never planned on spending that night with him, not while her princess was so close. It only took a mere three months for the two women to come to the realization that every decision they ever made in their lives was made if only to bring them together for that one night.

One night to dream, and to pretend like a love could truly be shared between them.

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