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Chapter Text

The sky over Auradon Castle was painted in the pastel hues of early evening, lilacs bleeding into rose gold, the air heavy with the scent of blooming lilacs. Chloe Charming sat by the tall arched window of her chamber, fingers drumming against the marble sill. Her blue curls caught the dying light, turning them into a halo of indigo flame, but her mind was elsewhere. She had grown used to the rhythm of her life—balls, court gatherings, endless lessons on diplomacy, the quiet comfort of knowing exactly where she stood.

That comfort shattered with three words.

“You are betrothed,” her mother said.

Cinderella’s voice was soft, deliberate, but Chloe felt the words crash against her chest like a tide, dragging the air from her lungs. She turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

Her mother stood with hands folded neatly before her, every inch the serene queen, though the worry lines at her brow betrayed her. “It has been arranged with the Queen of Hearts. A union between our families will strengthen Auradon’s future. It will show the kingdom—”

“Show the kingdom?” Chloe cut in, her deep brown eyes flashing with a fire she had inherited from neither parent. “You’re talking about me like I’m a… a treaty with a heartbeat. Who?”

For the faintest moment, Cinderella hesitated, as though saying the name would unleash something unstoppable. Finally, she spoke: “Red of Hearts.”

Chloe let out a strangled laugh, short and humorless. “Her? The Queen’s little mischief-maker? Mother, you cannot be serious.”

“It is already done,” Cinderella replied gently, but firmly, her words a velvet hammer.

Chloe pushed away from the window, pacing the room, skirts brushing the floor with every furious turn. Her curvy frame carried itself with strength, every step a declaration of defiance. “I won’t do it. I refuse. She and I— we can’t even stand to be in the same room. I’ve seen her sneer her way through councils like they’re a game. She doesn’t care about this kingdom, she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Cinderella’s expression softened, but her resolve did not waver. “Chloe… sometimes our duty asks more of us than we wish to give. You are courageous. You are loyal. And one day, perhaps, you will see this as an honor.”

Chloe’s laughter came again, bitter and sharp. “An honor to be shackled to someone I despise? I don’t think so.”

But her mother’s silence told her all she needed to know. The decision had been sealed long before Chloe had been invited into the conversation. She felt her stomach twist, a coil of anger and dread tightening deep inside.

For the first time in her life, Chloe Charming wished she had not been born a princess.

On the other side of Auradon, in a palace draped in velvet and shadow, another conversation unfolded.

Red of Hearts lounged sideways in a high-backed chair, one long leg slung lazily over the armrest. The firelight painted her hair in streaks of molten copper, every wave a flame untamed. Her hazel eyes flicked toward her mother, who stood regally at the hearth, her crown gleaming like polished iron.

“Let me guess,” Red drawled, twirling a chess piece between her fingers. “Another lecture about decorum? Or are we finally cutting to the part where you disown me?”

The Queen of Hearts gave her daughter a look sharp enough to silence even Red’s tongue for a heartbeat. Then she said it: “You are to be married.”

Red blinked, her lips parting in disbelief before twisting into a smirk. “Married? Oh, that’s rich. To whom? Some stuffy duke’s son who’ll faint the first time I raise my voice?”

Her mother’s eyes did not waver. “Chloe Charming.”

The chess piece slipped from Red’s hand and clattered to the floor. For a moment, the only sound was the pop and crackle of the fire. Then Red barked out a laugh, low and incredulous. “You’ve lost your mind.”

The Queen’s expression darkened. “Watch your tongue.”

Red shot to her feet, tall and slender, her crimson cape sweeping behind her like a trailing flame. “That insufferable little princess? With her perfect smile and perfect posture? You expect me to chain myself to her for life?”

“It is not a request,” the Queen said coldly. “It is necessity. The union of our houses will cement Auradon’s strength. Together, our names carry more weight than any throne alone.”

Red’s laugh grew sharper, slicing through the chamber. “You think she’ll survive me? Please. I’ll have her crying into her silk pillows within a week.”

But beneath the bravado, something restless twisted in her chest. She pictured Chloe—the blue curls, the sharp stare, the way she carried herself like she was daring the world to break her. And Red hated- hated- that a flicker of intrigue glimmered in her thoughts.

She turned on her heel, stalking toward the door. “You can bind me to her, Mother, but you can’t make me love her.”

The Queen’s voice followed her, calm and merciless. “Love is irrelevant. Duty is not.”

Red’s jaw tightened, her hazel eyes burning as fiercely as the fire behind her. She slammed the door shut, her laughter echoing bitterly down the corridor.

And somewhere across Auradon, Chloe was pacing her chamber with the very same fury, the very same helplessness.

Chapter Text

The chamber smelled faintly of lavender and polished wood, thick with the warmth of morning sunlight that poured through tall, arched windows. Chloe sat on a velvet stool, her spine rigid, fingers clenched into the cool silk of her midnight-blue gown. The fabric was heavy, encasing her like a gilded cage. Pearls lined the bodice and sleeves, and while they caught the light, each glint seemed like a mockery, highlighting how trapped she felt. Her blue curls had been pinned into a precise crown, yet they itched against her skin, as if reminding her that she had no say in how she would be displayed tonight. She hated it. She hated the weight of it, hated the smug whispers of the seamstresses, hated the invisible eyes that would judge her every move.

“Head high, darling,” Cinderella said, gliding into the room like a perfect reflection of calm, her dress a soft cascade of white and silver. The Princess’s voice was smooth, measured, but carried a quiet authority. “Tonight is an important moment for the kingdom.”

Chloe’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding lightly. “It’s a moment for them,” she said, the words tasting like metal in her mouth. “Not me.” Her gaze flicked to her reflection, to the girl with wide brown eyes who was supposed to embody charm, grace, and dignity. She didn’t recognize her. She wanted to tear the gown from her body and flee, to disappear into some hidden corridor far away from the expectations pressing down on her.

Cinderella tilted her head, eyes sharp beneath the soft curls framing her face. “Sometimes we must bear burdens we do not choose. You are strong. You are loyal. You can endure this.”

“Endure?” Chloe echoed bitterly, rising from the stool and pacing. The heavy silk of her skirts swirled around her, stiff and restrictive. “You mean endure being handed over like a prize to someone I despise? Endure standing there smiling while the world applauds a lie?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as the thought of Red of Hearts flared in her mind—the sharp-tongued, reckless, untamable girl whose very existence seemed to mock Chloe’s perfectly ordered life. Fury twisted in her stomach. She would not like Red. She would not bend. She would not—anything.

Across the castle, the Queen of Hearts’ wing smelled of burning wax and polished velvet, with a faint metallic tang that set Red’s nerves on edge. She lounged in a high-backed chair, one long leg draped over the armrest, crimson gown embroidered with golden flames pressing against her torso like armor. Her fiery hair, perfectly styled in loose waves with intricate braids across the crown, fell down her back in a cascade of defiance. She studied herself in the mirror, scowling. Perfect. Polished. Obedient. The image was suffocating.

“Must you scowl?” whispered an attendant, fidgeting nervously with a clasp at Red’s back.

“I must,” Red replied sharply, snatching the clasp free and fixing it herself. Her voice carried authority, sharp as a whip. “Step back.”

The Queen entered, majestic and terrifying, filling the room with her presence. “No games tonight,” she commanded.

Red’s smirk was quick, venomous. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You will sit beside her. You will act united. You will not embarrass me,” the Queen warned, her gaze freezing Red where she sat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Red said lightly, though inside her chest tightened. Chloe Charming. The very name was a spark of irritation. Blue-haired, flawless, impossible, the daughter of her mother’s old rival. She would not like her. She would not admire her. She would not submit.

The corridors of the castle stretched endlessly as Chloe descended the grand staircase. Each heel’s echo ricocheted against the marble walls, magnifying the tension in her chest. Courtiers lined the hall, eyes bright with curiosity, whispers buzzing like a swarm of bees. Chloe ignored them all, forcing her shoulders back, chin lifted, head held high despite the tightness in her stomach.

From the other side of the hall, Red descended too. Her steps were slow, deliberate, controlled, each movement radiating defiance. The hem of her gown swept against the polished floor with a whisper, her hazel eyes darting around the room, noting every gaze, every gasp, every quirk of attention directed at them. Then she saw Chloe.

Blue against red. Stiff shoulders, perfect posture, controlled movements. The girl’s eyes were locked on her, brown eyes sharp, calculating. Hatred flared between them, white-hot and immediate. Each instinct screamed to reject, to resist, to dominate. Neither would look away.

The doors to the banquet hall opened, and a wave of heat and scent enveloped them. The space was vast, the vaulted ceilings glittering with gold chandeliers. Candles flickered in crystal sconces, scattering light across polished marble floors. Velvet banners lined the walls, stitched in red and blue with gold threads that glinted with every breath of air. Roasted meats, spiced wine, and the faint tang of candle wax filled the room. Chloe’s chest tightened further. She hated the spectacle, hated the pomp, hated that she had to play a part.

Cinderella’s hand brushed Chloe’s elbow. “Hold your head high,” she murmured. The gentle pressure was meant to steady her, but Chloe’s fingers twitched in irritation. Head high, chin lifted. Smile. Every step toward the dais was deliberate, a march of defiance.

Red followed her own path, measuring every step, letting the rustle of her gown mark her presence, making her way through the hall like a storm contained. Every whisper, every murmur of the nobles grated against her, but she ignored them entirely. All she could see was Chloe. And every sight of her enemy, every perfect posture and polished curl, set Red’s teeth on edge.

As they approached the dais, Chloe’s eyes never wavered. Every step Red took was calculated, precise, infuriatingly confident. Chloe’s own jaw ached from the effort of restraint. She would not bow, would not falter, would not submit.

Red’s gaze remained locked, sharp and measuring. The girl was insufferable, and Red’s pulse thrummed with indignation. She would not admire her. She would not soften. She would not yield.

The King of Auradon rose, voice ringing over the hall. “Tonight, we witness the union of two great houses. The strength of Auradon is not only in our thrones, but in our bonds. And what bond could be stronger than this—between the Houses of Charming and Hearts?”

Applause rose from the nobles, but Chloe hardly noticed. Her knuckles were white on the folds of her skirts. She measured the room, noting whispers, eyes darting between the girls, but always returning to Red. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She loathed her already, hated that she was here, hated that they were to be bound together.

Red’s gaze followed Chloe’s every movement as the applause rolled through the hall. The girl moved with calculated grace, and Red felt her chest tighten with irritation. She would not allow Chloe to dominate tonight. She would not allow her to impress. She would not yield.

Servants appeared to guide them to their places, robes brushing against their skirts, gloved hands nudging them gently but firmly. Each step was drawn out, ceremonial, and tense. Chloe’s spine was rigid, shoulders locked, jaw tight. Red walked beside her, smirk fixed, shoulders squared, every motion radiating controlled fury. They did not speak. They did not glance except in those sharp, unavoidable moments where their eyes met with open, simmering hatred.

When they reached the head table, the nobles parted to make way, murmuring about the “grace” of the two young women, completely oblivious to the tension bristling between them. The girls were seated with precise ceremony, side by side. Chloe’s hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly her nails left crescents in the polished wood. Red’s hand hovered near hers but did not touch, tension coiling like a live wire.

The meal began. Silverware clinked. Goblets glinted. Courtiers murmured. Servants glided silently. The room was a swirl of color, scent, and sound, yet Chloe and Red existed in a bubble of icy hostility, every movement deliberate, every glance measured, every breath a challenge.

“You look ready to start a war,” Red whispered, leaning slightly, her smirk curling dangerously.

Chloe’s glare could have burned glass. “Don’t speak to me,” she hissed.

Red did not flinch. “Oh, I intend to,” she said.

Chloe ground her teeth. “Try me.”

The remainder of the meal passed in tense silence, punctuated by low, cutting remarks, subtle enough to avoid the notice of their mothers. Each microexpression—the way a shoulder twitched, a finger tapped—was loaded with meaning. Both were coiled tight, waiting for the other to falter, neither willing to show weakness.

Music swelled. Noble couples took to the floor. Cinderella pressed gently on Chloe’s elbow. “You must dance,” she murmured.

Chloe’s stomach twisted. She would not enjoy this. She would not allow it. But she followed, head high, spine straight.

The music began with the soft lilt of strings, delicate and measured, echoing through the vaulted chamber. The crowd parted to create space in the center of the banquet hall, polished marble gleaming beneath the chandeliers. Chloe’s heart tightened as Cinderella’s gentle but firm hand guided her forward, toward the floor, toward the inevitable. She had been trained in dance since childhood, every step memorized, every turn perfected, but tonight the thought of moving in rhythm beside her made Chloe’s stomach twist.

Red was already there, cutting through the space like fire through air. Her crimson gown flared with each step, a violent contrast to Chloe’s composed silk. Her hazel eyes glittered with sharp amusement as she extended her hand—not out of courtesy, but as if issuing a challenge.

Chloe’s own hand was stiff as she placed it in Red’s. The contact was fleeting, cold, a spark of tension that shot through both of them. From the dais, nobles leaned forward, eyes gleaming, whispers passing like waves: Look at them. How radiant. How united.

United? Chloe nearly laughed. They were anything but.

The musicians swelled, and Red moved first, pulling Chloe into the opening steps. Chloe resisted, spine rigid, forcing her weight into the motion so Red couldn’t guide her. Their bodies circled each other, skirts brushing, silk against velvet, a whisper of fabric concealing the battle beneath.

“You’re stiff,” Red murmured under her breath, her lips curling into a smirk.

“You’re reckless,” Chloe hissed back, her jaw tight.

Every turn was sharp, every step edged with hostility. Chloe refused to let Red lead, subtly shifting her weight, altering the rhythm. Red countered instantly, twisting the sequence so Chloe was pulled back into place. From a distance, it looked seamless—two partners moving in harmony, gowns swirling in mirrored arcs. But up close, their fingers clenched too tightly, their arms too rigid, their movements charged with silent defiance.

Chloe dug the tip of her heel slightly into Red’s slipper during a turn, a deliberate misstep disguised as clumsiness. Red’s smirk widened, her grip tightening fractionally around Chloe’s waist as she spun her harder than necessary. Chloe stumbled for half a second, fury flashing in her brown eyes, but caught herself, lifting her chin higher, refusing to show weakness.

The violins rose, faster now, and so did the duel. Red pressed forward in each step, her presence overwhelming, eyes locked on Chloe with taunting heat. Chloe countered with calculated precision, posture flawless, refusing to yield even an inch. It was a war painted in grace, masked in elegance, wrapped in music that the court mistook for beauty.

“Smile,” Red muttered, her breath hot against Chloe’s ear as she pulled her close for a turn.

“I’d rather choke,” Chloe spat, her teeth bared in what looked like a delicate grin.

Red laughed quietly, low and dangerous. “Careful. People might believe you’re enjoying yourself.”

The hall spun with their movement, chandeliers scattering gold light across their faces, gilding them like statues. Chloe’s curls bounced with each step, a crown of blue fire; Red’s hair flared with motion, a river of scarlet flame. Two elements clashing, colliding, refusing to merge.

Every eye in the hall followed them, captivated, unaware that beneath the perfect performance was a vicious struggle. To the nobles, they were radiant—two future brides dancing as though they were one. To Chloe and Red, it was nothing but survival, nothing but war.

As the music swelled toward its peak, Red spun Chloe outward, their hands linked, fabric snapping with the force. Chloe snapped back in, reclaiming the rhythm, reclaiming the lead. Their eyes locked, fury burning hot, neither willing to let the other win.

The final note cut through the hall, and with it, the dance ended. Both froze in their final pose—hands clasped, bodies angled, faces set in masks of elegance. Applause erupted around them, thundering, the nobles rising to their feet in admiration.

Chloe’s chest heaved with contained rage, but her smile—perfect, polished—never faltered.

Red’s smirk curved like a blade, dangerous and mocking, her hazel eyes glittering with triumph.

They released each other’s hands at the same instant, as though burned. Chloe turned sharply, skirts swishing, her heels clicking against the marble with clipped precision as she stormed from the floor. Red pivoted the opposite way, crimson fabric trailing behind her like fire, head tilted in disdain.

The applause lingered long after they had parted, echoing against the vaulted ceilings. To the watching world, it had been beautiful. To Chloe and Red, it had been war—neither victorious, neither yielding, both seething.

Chapter Text

Chloe’s fingers drummed lightly against the polished oak of her desk, though the rhythm was jagged, irregular, betraying the tension coiling through her chest. The morning sunlight slanted across her room in golden streaks, but it offered no comfort, only illuminating every wrinkle in the midnight-blue curtains, every flaw in the otherwise perfect arrangement of her chamber. She hated this. Every inch of it. The stiffness of her gown from last night’s banquet had already been replaced with something lighter, but the sense of being caged lingered, embedded in her bones.

Her blue curls tumbled freely now, unpinned, but the wildness of them was only a small rebellion. She wished she could undo the entire day—the forced smiles, the polite nods, the way every eye in Auradon had watched her as though she were nothing more than a symbol. And worst of all, the thought of Red of Hearts. That girl’s smirk, her sharp hazel eyes, the way she had moved with such deliberate, infuriating confidence across the dance floor—it burned in Chloe’s mind, and a shiver of something dark and bitter ran down her spine. She did not like Red. She loathed her.

Across the castle, Red stretched against the velvet cushions of her chamber’s high-backed chair, crimson gown pooling around her like a halo of fire. Her hazel eyes tracked the sunlight shifting across the floor, though she wasn’t really looking. She was thinking. Thinking about Chloe. About that blue-haired pest with her perfect posture and infuriating composure. Red’s jaw tensed. She hated the girl on principle. Hated the audacity in her stare, the way she carried herself like a queen when she was nothing more than a bride forced into a gilded cage.

Her fingers traced the rim of a goblet absentmindedly, tapping in short, sharp bursts. She would not yield. She would not be impressed. She would not—she smirked briefly at the thought—fall prey to her rival’s perfection. No, she would dominate, make her presence impossible to ignore. And the idea of sharing every waking moment, every meal, every ceremony with Chloe Charming filled her with something dark and dangerous: fury.

It was late morning when a soft knock sounded at Chloe’s door, the kind that was polite but insistent. She straightened immediately, forcing her back into a posture that screamed dignity rather than irritation.

“Come in,” she called, voice controlled.

Cinderella entered, serene as ever, hands folded neatly before her. “Good morning, darling,” she said, stepping lightly across the room. “The Queen of Hearts and I have arranged a small meeting for both of you girls. Just a few minutes. Think of it as…an introduction beyond the banquet.”

Chloe’s brow furrowed. “An introduction?” Her voice was sharp, disbelief curling through it. “We danced together. We spoke. What more is there to introduce?”

Cinderella’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It is necessary. Auradon expects it. You are expected to find a way to coexist.”

Chloe pressed her lips into a line, frustration tightening her jaw. “Coexist? That’s a word for roommates, not enemies forced into marriage.”

Cinderella’s gaze softened slightly but remained firm. “It is unavoidable. You will do as is expected.”

Grumbling under her breath, Chloe followed, heels clicking against the polished floors of the corridor. The anticipation of seeing Red again made her stomach coil. She did not want to see her. She did not want to sit near her. She wanted to scream, to flee, to tear the world apart. Instead, she walked with careful control, fingers flexing in the folds of her skirts, eyes trained forward, jaw clenched.

Red had been summoned as well, and she glided down the Queen’s corridor, each step precise, deliberate. Every ripple of her crimson gown was calculated, every sway of her hair a message: I will not be conquered. I will not yield. Her hazel eyes flicked from painting to chandelier, noting the subtle symmetry of the castle, but they returned always to the thought of Chloe Charming. The girl’s stiff posture, the way she moved as though she could command the attention of the world—it infuriated her. Red had no desire to tolerate it. No desire to be impressed. She would dominate. She would win.

A servant led them to a sitting room—a neutral space, small enough that escape was impossible but large enough that they could not avoid one another. A low table sat in the center, flanked by two chairs that now felt like thrones in a battlefield.

Red entered first, spinning lightly on the balls of her feet to survey the room. Her gaze swept over Chloe, seated stiffly by the window, arms folded across her chest, back rigid. Their eyes met. Blue against red. Fury against fire. No words were exchanged, only the simmering energy of two forces unwilling to yield.

“Good morning,” Red said finally, her voice smooth but sharp, laced with venom beneath the surface politeness.

Chloe’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Morning,” she replied curtly. No inflection softened it. No warmth. Only steel.

Cinderella gestured toward the chairs. “Please, sit. A brief conversation will help you both adjust to this new…circumstance.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed, and she sat with careful deliberation, folding her hands neatly in her lap, posture perfect. Red sat across from her, back straight, eyes darting just enough to assess her opponent. They did not speak at first, both testing, both sizing the other up like predators circling.

Minutes passed in silence, filled with the faint ticking of a clock and the distant hum of castle activity. Chloe’s gaze darted to Red’s fingers tapping against the armrest, precise and impatient. Red noted Chloe’s jaw tightening, the way her curls caught the sunlight like a halo of defiance. Each studied the other, storing every detail, every minor movement, as ammunition for the inevitable battle of words.

Finally, Red leaned slightly forward. “I suppose this is…pleasant,” she said, her tone carefully neutral, though her hazel eyes glinted.

Chloe’s nostrils flared. “Pleasant is not a word I’d use,” she said, voice low, deliberate, controlled. “It’s forced. Awkward. Insufferable, even.”

Red’s smirk tugged at her lips. “Charming,” she said, letting the name drip with irony, “you have a way with words. I can almost hear your mother’s pride in them.”

Chloe’s brown eyes narrowed sharply. “You must be proud of your wit too. I’ll give you that.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Red’s face. “Do not confuse restraint with weakness,” she said, voice low, dangerous.

“I’m not,” Chloe replied, chin lifting. “I’m aware of exactly what I’m dealing with. You think yourself clever. I see right through it.”

The air between them thickened. Each word was a blade, each glance a strike. Neither flinched. Neither yielded. It was a duel played in silence and speech, every syllable loaded with challenge.

Later, they were instructed to walk through the castle gardens together, ostensibly to enjoy some sunlight. The garden was peaceful—manicured hedges, winding paths, fountains shimmering in the morning sun—but for Chloe and Red, every step was a battlefield.

They moved side by side, hands brushing lightly as they carried a silver tray of refreshments. Chloe flinched at the contact, glaring sideways at Red, who returned the stare with perfect composure and deliberate, infuriating calm. The brush of elbows, the accidental sway of hair, even the soft shuffle of their skirts became a source of tension, magnified in their awareness.

“Careful,” Red murmured, not looking at her but letting the warning hang in the air.

“I am,” Chloe snapped, lips tight. “You should worry about your own balance.”

The silence that followed was thick and charged. Birds sang obliviously from nearby trees, water gurgled softly from the fountains, but the space between the two girls vibrated with unspoken defiance.

A trivial incident—a dropped napkin, a misstep on the path—sparked the first real verbal clash outside the sitting room. Words flew sharp, cutting, each designed to wound or assert dominance. Neither would yield. Neither would apologise.

Red leaned in slightly, voice low and threatening, teasing in its precision. “Do try to keep up, Charming. I would hate to have to wait for you.”

Chloe’s glare could have set fire to the hedges around them. “I am quite capable of keeping pace,” she shot back, tone dripping with controlled fury. “Do not mistake patience for incompetence.”

Their argument escalated, subtle but vicious, layered with sarcasm and challenge, each sentence an attack veiled in decorum. By the time they returned to the castle, both girls were flush with frustration, breaths quick, hearts racing, yet neither had given the other an inch.

They parted as abruptly as they had met, returning to their respective rooms. Both leaned against the doors, fists clenched, stomachs tight with lingering rage, minds replaying every movement, every word. Chloe’s thoughts circled the girl’s infuriating precision; Red’s mind calculated every counter and flaw in Chloe’s posture.

They were bound together, forced into proximity by duty and expectation. And while hatred dominated every moment, beneath it was a grudging awareness that neither was weak, neither easily dominated. A simmering tension had taken root, and it promised that every encounter henceforth would be a battle—one neither would walk away from.

Chapter Text

The castle corridors were quieter than usual that morning, but the hush did nothing to soothe Chloe’s nerves. She moved like a shadow along the polished stone, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, each echo a reminder of the day’s unavoidable confrontation. The Queen’s words from the previous night still lingered in her ears: You must learn to work together. For the sake of Auradon.

Chloe bristled at the thought. Work together. The words sounded like a cruel joke. Work with Red of Hearts- the girl with fiery hair, sharper tongue, and an infuriating ability to make every encounter feel like a duel. Every fiber of Chloe’s body ached at the memory of their dance, the subtle, perfect provocations, the endless challenge in those hazel eyes. She hated it. She hated Red. And yet, the castle had decreed that there would be no escape.

She arrived at the meeting room a few minutes early, determined to stake her claim to the high-backed chair nearest the window. The soft sunlight streamed in, illuminating the polished floorboards and the rich tapestries lining the walls. Chloe adjusted her gown, smoothing the fabric over her curves, and inhaled slowly. She would not lose composure. She would not allow Red to see weakness.

The door opened abruptly, and Red swept in like a flame through the room. Her crimson gown trailed behind her, every movement deliberate, eyes scanning the space with sharp calculation. Hazel eyes landed on Chloe immediately, and a smirk tugged at the corner of Red’s lips.

“Well,” Red said lightly, voice edged with amusement and irritation, “this is cozy.”

Chloe’s brown eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. “Cozy? I wouldn’t describe it that way,” she said, voice even, controlled. “Claustrophobic might be more accurate.”

Red’s smirk widened. “Touché.” She perched on the chair opposite Chloe, folding her legs with ease, hands resting lightly on the armrests, but the calm was a provocation in itself. I am in control here, Red’s posture seemed to declare.

Chloe bristled, gripping the arms of her chair, pressing her back against the cushion like a shield. She refused to let the girl across from her dominate the space. Every glance, every tilt of Red’s head, every lazy flex of her fingers was a challenge.

“Cinderella says we’re to review the plans for the upcoming Unity Festival,” Red said after a moment, tilting her head in mock interest. “Supposedly, it’s an important joint project for our…union.”

Chloe’s nostrils flared. “Important to them, perhaps. Not to me,” she replied sharply. Her gaze flicked over the parchment spread on the table- maps of Auradon, decorative plans, and guest lists- but she couldn’t focus. Every line, every detail was eclipsed by the knowledge that she would have to sit here, side by side, and navigate this task with Red.

Red leaned forward slightly, hazel eyes glinting. “Well, then, I suppose we should begin. Do you want to start, or shall I?”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. “You may, if you insist on being insufferable,” she said, tone clipped, but internally, a small flare of irritation ignited. Insufferable? That’s putting it mildly.

Red smiled faintly, but it was sharp, like a knife. “I prefer accurate descriptions,” she said lightly, spreading her hands over the plans, as though claiming authority by proximity.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. She moved forward, leaning over the map, and her elbow brushed against Red’s. Red’s hand twitched, and their fingers grazed. Neither flinched, but the contact was electric with tension. Chloe adjusted her posture deliberately, as if to reclaim space, and Red’s smirk faltered only slightly.

They began the discussion, ostensibly about tables and banners, entertainment and guest arrangements. But each suggestion was a duel. Chloe proposed a layout; Red countered with subtle alterations that forced Chloe to rethink her idea. Chloe suggested performers; Red questioned logistics, tone polite but edged with dominance.

Neither yielded. Neither smiled. Their cooperation was grudging, clipped, threaded with sarcasm and challenge. Yet beneath every word and glance was the acknowledgment- unspoken, un admitted- that neither was easily outmanoeuvred.

Time passed slowly. Servants appeared with trays of tea and delicate pastries. Red’s hand brushed against Chloe’s as she reached for a cup. Chloe recoiled slightly, pulling her hand back, only for Red’s gaze to flicker with irritation at her flinch.

“Careful,” Red said under her breath, the words soft but pointed.

“I am careful,” Chloe snapped, voice low, not wanting the servants to hear. “Maybe you should watch where you place your hands.”

The verbal skirmish escalated, subtle but relentless. Each barbed remark, each sarcastic inflection, each glance of challenge sharpened the room’s air. Outside, the sun slanted lower, painting gold across the polished floors, but the light was irrelevant to the tension that filled the space between them.

Finally, Red leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, her gaze lingering on Chloe with a mixture of irritation and grudging calculation. “You’re…tenacious,” she admitted, voice low, almost imperceptible.

Chloe froze, heart flickering. Did she just- ? No. It was not admiration. Not yet. It was acknowledgment, recognition of a worthy adversary. Chloe pressed her lips together, refusing to let the thought settle.

“And you’re infuriating,” Chloe said in turn, tone clipped but deliberate, keeping the hostility alive. “I don’t like it, I don’t like you, and I certainly don’t need to pretend.”

Red’s lips quirked, a smirk of pure challenge. “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The day dragged on. The meeting ended, and both were escorted through the castle corridors, again forced into close quarters. The accidental brushes, the shared steps along narrow hallways, every detail ignited sparks of fury. Yet beneath the irritation was a quiet understanding- neither was going to bend, and that realisation settled like coals in their stomachs.

They parted at the doorway of their respective wings, shoulders stiff, jaws tight. Chloe sank into her chair, curling her fingers into the edge of the armrest, mind replaying every exchange, every calculated move Red had made. Across the castle, Red leaned back against her doorframe, exhaling slowly, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, eyes narrowing as she thought of Chloe’s defiance, her stubbornness, her unexpected cunning.

Hatred burned bright. Frustration simmered hotter still. And yet, for the first time, both girls realised- neither could be underestimated.

Chapter Text

The morning sun poured through the tall, arched windows of the training hall, catching on the polished wooden floorboards and the rows of steel rapiers mounted on the walls. Chloe adjusted the grip on her fencing foil, the cool metal a familiar weight in her hand. The hall smelled faintly of polished wood and leather, the faint tang of sweat lingering from previous sessions. Here, at least, she had control—every lunge, every parry, every measured movement under her command.

She had been practicing alone for hours, muscles warm, every step, every pivot precise. The upcoming fencing tournament was more than a test of skill; it was a battlefield where she could channel the tight coil of tension she felt from the arrangement, from the looming presence of Red, and from the constant pressure of her mother’s expectations.

Chloe exhaled slowly, lifting the foil into position, the tip catching the sunlight and glinting like a sharpened promise. She darted forward, thrusting, pivoting, retreating, each movement fluid, deliberate. She imagined an opponent in front of her, but even her mind couldn’t quite conjure someone as infuriating as Red of Hearts. The thought alone made her pulse thrum with irritation.

A sudden echo of footsteps across the hall made her pause, ears pricking. She whirled, foil at the ready, and froze. There she stood—Red. Red of Hearts, leaning casually against the far wall, arms crossed, smirk playing across her lips, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Practicing, Charming?” Red’s voice carried, smooth, teasing, dangerous in its ease. “Alone? How…dull.”

Chloe’s grip on her foil tightened, knuckles whitening. “I’m not here to entertain you,” she spat, stepping forward. “Leave.”

Red pushed off the wall with languid elegance, every step measured as she walked closer. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she replied, smirk widening. “I was bored. And you… you look far too serious to be left alone.”

“I said leave!” Chloe snapped, raising her foil slightly, not as a threat, but as a boundary. Her chest heaved, blue curls falling into her face, framing the scowl she did not bother to hide.

Red stopped only a few feet away, letting her eyes roam over Chloe with calculated, infuriating scrutiny. “You take yourself so seriously,” she said lightly. “Do you always glare this much when no one’s watching?”

Chloe’s brown eyes flared. “I don’t glare,” she said through gritted teeth. “I focus. Something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

The pause between them stretched, taut, almost electric. Red leaned slightly to the side, as though mocking her, and Chloe tightened her stance. Every inch of the hall seemed to shrink around them, every beam of sunlight emphasising the distance neither wanted to close, yet both were inevitably drawn to occupy the same space.

“You know,” Red said slowly, voice almost lazy, “I could make this more…fun.”

“Fun?” Chloe’s voice dripped with venom. “Is that what you call interfering in someone else’s practice?”

Red smirked, stepping a bit closer, tilting her head. “Why not? You look so…serious. So…predictable. I want to see how you handle a real challenge.”

Chloe’s heart thudded, irritation coiling in her chest. “I don’t need your challenges.” Her foil flexed slightly in her hand, metal catching the light. “Now leave. This is my practice, not your playground.”

Red’s smirk only widened. “Oh, I like playgrounds,” she said, and without warning, she picked up a spare foil from the rack. “And I do love testing boundaries.”

Chloe’s eyes widened, jaw tightening. “You- are- insane.”

“And you’re infuriating,” Red replied evenly, stepping into a ready stance. The tension between them hummed like a live wire. Neither moved too fast at first, circling in slow, deliberate steps. Chloe’s heels scraped lightly against the polished floor, each pivot precise. Red’s boots whispered along the boards, fluid, controlled, predatory.

Their blades clashed with a soft metallic ring, not forceful at first, but precise, each strike, each parry a statement: I will not yield. Chloe thrust forward; Red stepped back, smirk unwavering, countering with a riposte that made Chloe jerk in irritation.

“You really think you can-” Chloe started, only for Red to intercept with a fast flick of her wrist, sending Chloe off balance by an inch.

“-predict me?” Red finished, smirk sharp. “Oh, Charming, you really overestimate yourself.”

Chloe’s brown eyes narrowed dangerously, fury flaring. She lunged again, forceful, determined, every muscle taut. Red met her move with calm precision, pushing back, every clash of metal a small explosion of tension.

“You’re insufferable,” Chloe hissed, spinning on her heel, foil tracing a precise arc.

“And you’re…stubborn,” Red replied, voice low and dangerous, a teasing spark flickering in her eyes.

The duel continued, measured, deliberate. Each strike, each parry was drawn out, every movement observed, calculated. Chloe adjusted her stance, imagining Red as nothing but a target for practice, yet every time she struck, Red’s deflections were flawless, deliberate, and irritatingly precise. Every time Red struck, Chloe’s defences had to shift, every muscle responding instinctively to counter, to predict, to resist.

Minutes stretched into half an hour. Sweat beaded on Chloe’s brow, curls clinging to her skin. Her breathing was steady, controlled, but each strike, each clash was draining, infuriating, and…necessary. Red was relentless, teasing, testing, pushing her limits in ways no ordinary practice partner ever would.

“Why don’t you just admit you’re impressed?” Red said suddenly, voice smooth, casual, but every word was a spark, deliberately poking, prodding.

Chloe’s brown eyes flashed, lips pressed tight. “I am not impressed,” she spat, forcing her stance tighter, pushing back. “You’re insufferable, a nuisance, and your smirk is unbearable.”

Red tilted her head, as though enjoying the battle even more now. “And yet, here you are. Still sparring with me. Still taking me seriously.”

“Because I will not let you win,” Chloe replied, thrusting forward, foil clanging sharply against Red’s.

“And I will not let you dominate,” Red said evenly, stepping lightly back, parrying each blow with precision. “Isn’t that fun?”

It was a war, slow and deliberate, a tension-filled dance with blades, each movement a statement of defiance, of challenge, of sheer willpower. The sunlight glinted across their faces, across the metal, across the floorboards, illuminating every flicker of expression, every tense muscle, every sharp glare.

Chloe feinted, lunged, retreated, spinning, parrying- all with the precision that made her the best in her class. Red met every move, countering with exacting skill, her smirk never faltering, her hazel eyes sharp, mocking, deadly. Neither gave quarter. Neither faltered.

Finally, Chloe’s arm burned, her breath coming in shallow, hot bursts, yet she refused to yield. Every strike, every clash, every parry was a testament to her will. And Red- bored as ever-continued to push, to tease, to test, forcing Chloe to fight not just her skill, but her temper, her patience, her fury.

Minutes later, both lowered their foils slightly, the sound of metal against wood echoing softly in the hall. Sweat glistened on both girls, curls and hair sticking to their skin. Neither smiled. Neither admitted fatigue. Both simply stared, panting lightly, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills that words could never capture.

Red smirked faintly. “You fight well,” she said lightly, almost a whisper.

Chloe’s brown eyes flared. “I don’t care what you think,” she spat, stepping back, wiping sweat from her brow. “Now leave.”

Red tilted her head, voice lazy, teasing. “Oh, I don’t think so.” She stretched lightly, walking around Chloe, eyes scanning the precision in her stance, the curve of her arms, the tension in every muscle. “I was bored. And you…you’re far too fun to leave alone.”

Chloe ground her teeth, curling her fingers into fists. “You’re impossible.”

Red’s smirk widened. “And you…infuriating. Perfect.”

The tension hung between them, thick and electric, unbroken. Chloe stormed past Red toward the hall exit, Red following just close enough to keep her presence a constant irritant. Neither spoke, neither yielded, both simmering in mutual frustration, and yet- though neither would admit it- the slow, unrelenting acknowledgment of the other’s skill and ferocity lingered like coals beneath ash.

Chapter Text

The week had crawled by like molasses. Seven days of tedious gossip, endless reminders of the banquet, and her mother’s constant harping about duty. Red had spent most of it sprawled on her velvet chaise, legs dangling, a book open across her chest she hadn’t bothered to read. If she closed her eyes, she could almost forget she was tethered to Chloe Charming, her supposed “future wife.” Almost.

“Red,” her mother’s voice snapped across the room like a whip.

Red cracked one hazel eye open, groaning as the Queen of Hearts swept into her chambers in a flurry of crimson fabric. Her crown glinted cruelly in the morning light.

“You will be attending the fencing tournament today.”

Red rolled her head back dramatically. “Thrilling. I do so love watching people stab at each other with sticks.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “It is not about the tournament. It is about your presence. You will sit in the royal box, where all of Auradon can see you supporting Chloe.”

The name was acid on Red’s tongue. She sat up, tossing the book aside. “Supporting? Mother, I thought we had agreed my role was to look disdainful and terrifying. You’re ruining my brand.”

The Queen of Hearts’ stare was unrelenting. “You will go. You will smile when appropriate. And you will make it clear that you stand beside your betrothed. Reputation, Red. Unity. If you cannot understand duty, at least understand appearances.”

Red bit the inside of her cheek, tasting iron. She wanted to snarl, to refuse, to slam her chamber door and vanish into the gardens for hours. But she knew better. When her mother gave orders like this, refusal was not an option.

“Fine,” she muttered, standing and smoothing the folds of her scarlet gown. “But I won’t enjoy it.”

“You are not meant to,” her mother replied coolly.

The fencing arena was set up in one of Auradon’s grand courtyards. Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, bright with royal insignias, while rows of seats circled the polished piste at the center. Nobles and commoners alike filled the stands, buzzing with anticipation.

Red swept into the noble box with her mother, chin high, posture regal. If she had to endure this circus, she would do it in style. She folded herself into the carved chair, elbow resting lazily on the armrest, and surveyed the crowd with cool detachment.

Then her gaze landed on Chloe.

Down on the floor, Chloe Charming looked every bit the darling of Auradon: short and curvy in her fitted fencing whites, blue curls tucked neatly beneath her mask. She moved with a sharp precision Red couldn’t ignore, warming up with lunges and parries, her foil flashing in the sunlight. The crowd adored her already, clapping at every flick of her blade.

Red’s lips curved in a smirk. Of course they do. Perfect little Chloe Charming. Always adored. Always praised.

She leaned back, crossing her legs, determined not to be impressed. But her hazel eyes refused to stray. Every pivot, every turn Chloe made drew her gaze, if only so she could catalogue the flaws. Her footwork’s too heavy. She hesitates before lunging. And that bow? Overdone. Positively theatrical.

Red clapped once, slowly, mockingly, when Chloe saluted the judges. Her mother’s hand tightened on her wrist in warning, but Red only smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the piste.

Her ankle rolled lightly, testing her balance. The piste gleamed beneath her boots, polished to perfection. Chloe adjusted her grip on the foil, breathing steady, chest rising and falling beneath the stiff jacket. She’d prepared for this moment, trained for weeks, yet her heart thudded with unusual weight.

It wasn’t the crowd- she could handle the cheers, the whispers, the eyes on her every move. No, it was the sight of her.

Red. Sitting in the noble box like she owned the place, hair blazing like wildfire in the sunlight, hazel eyes locked on her with that insufferable smirk. Chloe had prayed Red wouldn’t show. Of course she had. Because the one thing she needed was focus, and Red’s presence was distraction embodied.

She won’t get to me, Chloe told herself firmly, adjusting her stance. Not today.

The referee called the start. Chloe lunged forward, blade clashing against her opponent’s with a ringing snap.

The bout unfolded like music- parries and thrusts, advances and retreats. Chloe’s body moved instinctively, muscle memory guiding her through the rhythm. The crowd gasped and applauded with each touch scored. She could feel their admiration, the weight of their hopes.

But she could also feel Red’s eyes on her, sharp as blades.

Chloe gritted her teeth, forcing herself to ignore it, to focus only on the opponent in front of her. She would not let Red win, not here, not in her head.

She hated this. She hated how Chloe moved- too sure, too graceful, like she thought the piste belonged to her. She hated the way the crowd roared with every point, like Chloe had already won.

And yet, she couldn’t look away.

Every flick of Chloe’s foil, every lunge, every defiant glare beneath the mask gnawed at Red’s composure. She shifted in her seat, nails drumming against the armrest, eyes narrowed.

Her mother leaned in. “You will applaud,” she whispered sharply.

Red forced her hands together once, twice, clapping with the least enthusiasm possible. Her smirk returned quickly, a shield for the fact that she was paying more attention than she wanted.

Then it happened.

Chloe lunged for the final touch, her boot catching awkwardly against the polished floor. She landed, blade extended- but her ankle twisted sharply beneath her. Chloe gasped, collapsing to one knee, hand gripping the floor as pain shot up her leg.

The crowd froze. Murmurs rippled. Judges exchanged uncertain glances.

And before she could think, before she could stop herself, Red was on her feet.

Pain flared hot and bright through her ankle, stealing her breath. She tried to push herself upright, tried to stand tall as though nothing had happened, but her leg wobbled treacherously beneath her. Heat flushed her face. Not here, not in front of everyone…

She barely registered the whispers, the shuffle of attendants. What she did register- too sharply, too suddenly- was movement. A figure descending from the noble box.

Red.

Hazel eyes blazing, scarlet gown sweeping, moving with the certainty of someone who didn’t care how many people stared. Chloe’s chest clenched as Red strode onto the piste without hesitation, ignoring the gasps, ignoring the startled judges.

“Don’t-” Chloe tried, voice tight with pain and humiliation. “Don’t you dare-”

But Red was already there, dropping into a crouch beside her, one arm slipping around her waist. “Shut up,” Red hissed, tone low and sharp. “You’re not standing on that.”

Chloe froze, fury warring with mortification. The crowd was watching, murmuring, eyes wide as Red pulled her up, steady and unyielding. Chloe wanted to shove her away, to insist she didn’t need her help- but her ankle screamed otherwise.

Red ignored her protests, ignored the whispers, ignored everything but the task of getting Chloe off the piste. The warmth of her grip seared through Chloe’s jacket, infuriating, humiliating.

The whispers rose as she guided Chloe toward the edge of the piste, murmurs spreading like wildfire. She didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them think she was playing the dutiful fiancée.

Truth was, her instincts had taken over. She hadn’t thought- just moved. And now she was here, Chloe half-leaning against her, every eye on them.

Chloe’s breaths came shallow and furious, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Red didn’t look at her, didn’t dare. Her jaw was set, her arm firm around Chloe’s waist. She told herself it was image, nothing more-image, reputation, duty.

But her pulse was unsteady, her chest tight, and she hated it.

They reached the sidelines. Attendants rushed forward, fussing, bowing, but Red didn’t let go until Chloe was seated, foil slipping from her grasp. Finally, Red straightened, meeting the judges’ eyes with a glare that silenced their dithering.

The crowd still whispered, buzzing with speculation.

Red smoothed her gown, spine stiff, expression unreadable. She had acted, and now she couldn’t undo it. She could only stand there, every inch of her burning with the knowledge that she had broken the one rule she lived by- never let Chloe Charming make her move.

But she had. And Auradon had seen it.

Chapter Text

The pain had dulled from a burning stab to a constant, throbbing ache, but it was enough to keep her confined to bed. And confinement was its own torture.

Her ankle was wrapped tightly in linen, propped on a mound of pillows, and she had been sentenced to hours of idleness by the court physician. Idleness. Chloe Charming did not do idleness. She was a fighter, a protector, someone who lived in movement. To be reduced to stillness was unbearable.

The velvet curtains of her chamber shifted with the faintest breeze. Outside, life continued as though nothing had happened- the clamour of carriages, the laughter of servants, the faint clang of steel in the courtyard where fencing drills no doubt carried on without her. Each sound was a reminder of what she was missing, of the humiliation she had suffered.

The humiliation of falling. Of failing. Of being carried.

By her.

Chloe’s stomach twisted at the memory. Red of Hearts, sweeping across the piste like a heroine from a tale, arm firm around Chloe’s waist, hauling her up as if Chloe were some fragile doll. The whispers of the crowd, the wide eyes, the pity. She could still feel the burn of it on her skin.

She had tried to argue when her mother suggested she receive visitors, but Cinderella had been firm. “It would be rude to refuse,” she had said with that infuriating calm. “And besides, Red will come.”

The words had made Chloe’s blood run cold.

She turned her face toward the ceiling now, jaw tight. If she comes, I’ll send her away. I don’t need her pity. I don’t need her smirk hovering over my bed like she’s won some kind of prize.

A knock at the door. Low, deliberate.

Chloe’s stomach sank. She didn’t have to ask who it was.

She hated corridors. Hated their endlessness, their sameness. She hated the way servants’ eyes followed her, bowing quickly as if her very gaze might slice them open. She hated- more than anything- the reason she was here.

Check on Chloe. Her mother’s words still rang in her ears. Every day until she recovers. Show your support. People are watching.

Red had argued, of course. She had suggested sending flowers, a note, even a servant in her place. But her mother had been immovable. “You will go. You will sit by her bed. You will prove that this alliance is strong.”

So here she was, stalking down the gilded hallway toward Chloe’s chambers, crimson skirts whispering against the marble. The guard stationed at the door straightened nervously as she approached. Red rapped her knuckles against the wood once, sharply, before pushing it open without waiting for permission.

The room smelled faintly of lavender and ointment. Light filtered through gauzy curtains, falling over a figure propped up in bed.

Chloe.

Red’s lips curved into a smirk she didn’t entirely feel. “Well, well. Look who’s survived after all. I was beginning to wonder if you’d wither away from shame.”

Chloe turned her head slowly, brown eyes burning. “You.” The word dripped with loathing.

Red closed the door behind her with exaggerated care, crossing the room at a leisurely pace. “Yes, me. Don’t sound so thrilled. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t… required.”

She wanted to throw the nearest object at her. A pillow, a glass, anything heavy enough to wipe that smirk off Red’s face.

Instead, she gripped the bedclothes tighter, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Then don’t bother. I don’t need you checking in on me like I’m some fragile porcelain doll.”

Red leaned casually against the bedpost, arms crossed. “Oh, I know you don’t need me. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But my mother insists. And when the Queen of Hearts insists, well…” She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Who am I to argue?”

Chloe’s chest burned. “So this is a performance, then? More of your theatrics?”

“Exactly,” Red replied smoothly, though her eyes glinted with something sharper. “I play the doting fiancée, you play the stoic warrior who tripped over her own feet. Everyone’s happy.”

Heat surged to Chloe’s cheeks. “I didn’t trip. My ankle-”

“-gave out. In front of the entire court.” Red’s smirk widened. “Trust me, the whispers haven’t stopped. You’re quite the topic of conversation.”

Chloe’s stomach twisted. “Do you enjoy this?” she demanded. “Seeing me humiliated?”

“Yes,” Red said without hesitation. “Immensely.”

It was almost too easy, watching Chloe bristle, her curls tumbling in defiance around her flushed face. Red should have felt triumphant, victorious. And yet…

The memory of the moment still lingered- the sudden collapse, the weight of Chloe leaning against her, the hush of the crowd. The raw instinct that had propelled Red forward before she’d even thought.

She shoved it away, burying it beneath sarcasm.

“Really, Chloe,” she drawled. “If you wanted to make a spectacle, you could’ve just fainted. Much more dramatic than a twisted ankle.”

Chloe’s glare could have set her ablaze. “You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s tragic,” Red corrected lightly. “The kingdom’s darling reduced to limping. Your mother must be devastated.”

The mention of Cinderella seemed to strike a nerve. Chloe sat up straighter despite the pain, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare drag my mother into this. She’s twice the queen yours will ever be.”

Red’s smirk faltered. For just a second. Then it sharpened, blade-like. “Careful, Charming. You’re limping into dangerous territory.”

Her pulse hammered, but she refused to back down. “Maybe if your mother cared about more than appearances, you wouldn’t be here tormenting me out of obligation.”

Red stepped closer, leaning down, her shadow falling across Chloe’s bed. Her voice dropped to a low hiss. “And maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with being perfect, you wouldn’t crumble the second something goes wrong.”

The words sliced through Chloe, sharper than any foil. For a moment, all she could do was stare, breath caught, fury and humiliation twisting inside her.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shove Red away, to prove she wasn’t broken, wasn’t weak. But the throbbing pain in her ankle tethered her to the mattress. And Red’s eyes- smug, blazing hazel- left her no escape.

“Get out,” Chloe whispered, low and dangerous.

Red tilted her head. “Gladly. But I’ll be back tomorrow. Mother’s orders.”

Chloe’s hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. “I don’t want you here.”

“That makes two of us.” Red straightened, smoothing her gown as if shaking off the moment. “But until you can stand on that dainty ankle of yours, you’re stuck with me.”

The door shut behind her with a soft thud.

She strode down the corridor, nails biting into her palms. She should have felt victorious after needling Chloe into fury, but instead there was a strange weight pressing on her chest.

Why had she gone down there? Why had she cared at all? It wasn’t care, she reminded herself fiercely. It was duty. Appearance. Nothing more.

And yet the image replayed in her mind- the way Chloe’s voice had cracked with humiliation, the fire in her eyes as she spat her hatred.

Red’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. If hatred burns that brightly, maybe it will keep this ridiculous engagement alive. After all, fire doesn’t go out easily.

Alone again, Chloe sagged back against her pillows, heart pounding. Her ankle throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the sting in her chest.

Red had a way of cutting through her defenses, of finding the exact words to wound her pride. And Chloe hated her for it. Hated her arrogance, her smirk, her cruel hazel eyes.

And yet, beneath the fury, another feeling lingered. A gnawing, unbearable awareness that no one else had dared to look at her so sharply since the accident. No one else had spoken to her without pity.

Chloe buried her face in her hands, growling softly. “I hate her.”

But her heart refused to quiet.

Chapter Text

The morning light spilled across her chamber in soft gold, warming the silk sheets and scattering little diamonds of brightness across the polished floor. Chloe shifted slightly in bed, testing her ankle against the weight of the pillows.

It was stronger now. The sharp, agonizing ache had dulled into a manageable throb, more nuisance than pain. She could move without wincing, could shift her foot in small, defiant circles beneath the linen bandages. Another day or two, and she’d be able to stand. Another week, and she’d fence again.

It was almost over.

Which meant, mercifully, that Red’s visits would soon end too.

The thought made her chest unclench. She hadn’t realized how much she’d dreaded each knock on the door until now, with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last. That the infuriating smirk, the endless teasing, the unwanted reminders of her humiliation would be gone.

And yet- 

Her stomach gave a peculiar twist. Something that felt too much like anticipation, though she refused to name it as such.

She pushed the thought aside, smoothing her blue curls with deliberate care as she heard the familiar rap at the door. Precise, arrogant. A sound she could recognise anywhere by now.

Chloe inhaled, bracing herself. “Enter.”

She didn’t knock any differently than usual. Three sharp raps, deliberate enough to sound commanding, careless enough to show she didn’t care if Chloe was ready or not.

Still, something felt different today.

Maybe it was the knowledge that this was the last time she’d have to endure this ridiculous routine. No more dutiful bedside visits, no more pretending to care about Chloe’s ankle, no more circling verbal battles that always ended with one of them fuming and the other smirking.

Red smoothed an invisible crease in her scarlet skirts before stepping inside. She found Chloe exactly as expected- propped up against her pillows like a portrait come to life, curls gleaming in the morning light, brown eyes steady and unwelcoming.

“You look marginally less tragic today,” Red announced, shutting the door behind her.

Chloe’s lips tightened. “And you look exactly as irritating as ever.”

Red smiled. Perfect. Some things never changed.

She hated how easily Red filled a room. How she walked as if the air bent around her, as if the space was hers by right. That blazing hair, those sharp hazel eyes, the ever-present smirk- it was all too much.

And yet Chloe couldn’t stop noticing. Couldn’t stop following every movement, every flicker of expression.

“Still wasting your time here?” Chloe asked coolly, adjusting her pillows as though Red weren’t worth her attention. “Shouldn’t you be off frightening servants or tormenting stable boys?”

Red strolled to the window, glancing lazily outside. “Oh, I do both before breakfast. This is merely an afternoon diversion.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “You call pestering an injured person a diversion?”

Red turned, leaning against the sill, arms crossed. “Pestering implies you don’t enjoy it. But you rise to every single word I say. Honestly, you make it too easy.”

Chloe glared, though her cheeks warmed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable.” Red’s smirk deepened. “A match made in heaven, really.”

She had expected venom, expected another full-blown argument, but Chloe’s retorts felt… lighter today. Sharper, yes, but less desperate. Less raw.

It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

“Mother says you’ll be walking again soon,” Red said after a pause, examining her nails. “Which means my services as your faithful nursemaid are no longer required. A tragedy.”

Chloe snorted, unable to help herself. “Faithful nursemaid? You’ve done nothing but insult me since the moment you walked in here.”

“I kept you entertained, didn’t I?” Red shot back easily.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “You call this entertainment?”

“For me? Absolutely.”

She expected Chloe to snap again, to spit something about arrogance or cruelty. Instead, Chloe shook her head faintly, curls bouncing, and muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”

And strangely, for once, Red didn’t feel the need to push further.

The silence that followed was strange. Not comfortable- never comfortable- but quieter than their usual battles.

She shifted her foot beneath the blankets, biting back a grimace as the dull ache flared. Red’s gaze flickered toward the movement, sharp and assessing, though she said nothing.

Chloe hated that flicker. Hated the idea that Red might still see her as weak. But more than that, she hated the strange tightness in her chest when Red’s eyes lingered.

She cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “So, what exactly will you do with your freedom once I’m on my feet again? Terrorize the palace corridors? Glare at gardeners?”

Red shrugged carelessly. “Oh, I’ll find new amusements. Perhaps I’ll sit in on your fencing practices and critique your footwork. I hear that’s your weak spot.”

Chloe’s mouth dropped open. “You-!”

The smirk was back in full force. “Ah, there it is. That delightful shade of outrage. I’d almost miss it.”

The outrage was addictive. Chloe’s temper burned so vividly, it was almost beautiful in its own stubborn way.

But she reminded herself quickly- this was their last visit. After today, she wouldn’t have to play the role of concerned fiancée again. No more mornings wasted in this lavender-scented chamber.

So why did the thought leave a faint hollowness she couldn’t quite name?

Red straightened, brushing imaginary dust from her gown. “Well, Charming, it seems my duties here are nearly complete. You’ll be back on your feet, parading around like the kingdom’s darling, and I’ll be free of this dreadful routine.”

Chloe lifted her chin. “Finally, something we agree on.”

“Mark it down in history,” Red said dryly. “The first and last point of agreement between Chloe Charming and Red of Hearts.”

Chloe’s lips twitched- just barely- before she caught herself and scowled again.

Red didn’t comment, but she noticed.

She wanted to deny it, but part of her felt strangely unsettled at the thought of Red not coming back tomorrow.

Not that she enjoyed these visits. Not at all. They were infuriating, humiliating, exhausting. And yet… they had broken the monotony of her confinement. They had sharpened her edges when she felt dull. They had reminded her she was still more than an injured foot.

But she would never admit that aloud. Not if her life depended on it.

So she straightened her spine, crossing her arms, and said coldly, “Good. I hope I never see you hovering over me again.”

Red tilted her head, hazel eyes gleaming. “Careful, Chloe. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“I’d rather miss a tooth.”

Red laughed- an unguarded, sharp sound that startled them both.

The chamber fell quiet again.

She hadn’t meant to laugh. It slipped out before she could stop it, breaking the rhythm of their usual barbs. For one fleeting moment, Chloe’s brown eyes widened, as if she’d never heard Red make such a sound.

Red felt heat prickle at the back of her neck. She turned briskly toward the door, smoothing her skirts. “Well. That concludes today’s torture session. Try not to injure yourself again, Charming- I’d hate to be summoned for round two.”

Chloe’s voice followed her, sharp but quieter than usual. “Don’t worry. I won’t need you.”

Red paused at the threshold, smirk returning like armor. “You keep telling yourself that.”

And then she was gone, crimson gown sweeping down the corridor, leaving Chloe in the fading silence.

The door closed with its usual soft thud, leaving her alone again.

Chloe exhaled slowly, sinking back into her pillows. The ache in her ankle pulsed, steady and familiar, but it wasn’t the source of the heat in her chest.

She told herself it was relief. That Red was gone, and with her went the constant need to defend, to prove, to fight.

But as the silence stretched, Chloe found herself listening for footsteps that would not return.

And she hated herself for it.

Chapter Text

Red had learned, over nineteen years of life, that she could endure many things. The unending lectures of etiquette tutors, the suffocating expectations of court, even the dull ache of boredom that came with being paraded through endless ceremonies like a prized possession. But there was one thing she could never stomach: being treated like a doll.

And that was exactly what she was right now- coreseted, laced, powdered, brushed, every inch of her fire subdues beneath the hands of her attendants.

"Hold still, Your Highness," one of them chided softly as Red shifted on her cushioned stool.

Her jaw flexed, but she forced herself still, glaring at her reflection in the gilded mirror. The girl who stared back was a stranger wrapped in crimson silk, her long hair coiled and pinned in ways she despised. The attendants cooed over her beauty, but Red could only see a cage.

It was the same ritual before every ball: strip away her comfort, her mischief, her sharp edges, and mold her into the picture of royal perfection. Tonight was worse, though. Tonight, she had to endure it all with the knowledge that Chloe Charming would be there too.

The very thought of Chloe's prim little smirk, her righteous posture, her too-perfect curls, made Red's teeth grind.

"Enough," Red snapped suddenly, startling the attendants. She pushed back from the stool, standing tall despite their protests. "If I stand here another moment, I'll claw my own skin off. I'm ready. We're done."

They fluttered like nervous birds, one daring to reach for a final adjustment. Red's glare froze her in place. The room quieted, save for the rustle of fabric as Red smoothed her skirts herself.

By the time she swept out of her chambers, she already had her mask of nonchalance fixed in place. Her heels clicked against the polished marble of the palace halls, and she let each step echo as loudly as it pleased.

She would arrive at this ball like a storm.

The ballroom glittered under the chandeliers, filled with the murmuring of Auradon's elite. Laughter rang from corners, silk swished, goblets clinked. The scent of roses and spiced wine clung to the air, thick and cloying.

Red loathed it.

Her arrival drew eyes, of course- it always did. She was the Queen of Hearts' daughter, impossible to ignore. She felt the weight of stares slide across her like oil, whispers trailing in her wake. She bore them with a lazy half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.

But then her gaze caught, inevitably, on Chloe Charming.

Seated near the dais, dressed in a gaown of icy blue that shimmered like frost under candlelight, Chloe looked every inch the fairytale princess. Perfect posture, perfect curls, perfect smile- the kind designed to dazzle crowds.

Red's stomach turned.

Because beneath that flawless exterior, she knew Chloe despised her just as much as she despised Chloe. And yet, the crowd looked at them as though they were already a storybook ending.

A bitter laugh curled in Red's throat.

She was still watching Chloe when a hand settled firmly on her elbow.

"Smile," her mother murmured in her ear. The Queen of Hearts stood tall and commanding beside her, crimson skirts sweeping the floor. Her voice was velvet lined with steel. "You are sulking again. It shows."

"I'm not sulking," Redd drawled, twisting her arm free. "I'm surviving."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You will do more than survive. You will excel. And you will behave."

Red bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. "How's this? Charming enough for you?"

The Queen's reply was a warning look sharp enough to cute glass. Red swallowed it down with that taste of iron.

The first clash came sooner than Red had hoped.

"Red," her mother said with deliberate sweetness, "come along. Cinderella wished for you and Chloe to be seen together."

Red's pulse jumped in irritation, but she allowed herself to be guided. The crowd parted like the sea as she was ushered forward, straight to Chloe.

Chloe rose at their approach, that practiced smile plastered onto her lips. Her eyes, however- dark and cutting- met Red's with barely disguised contempt.

"Red," Chloe said, voice honeyed for the audience.

"Chloe," Red returned, dripping sarcasm so subtle only Chloe could hear it.

Their mothers beamed, oblivious or perhaps willfully blind. "What a vision you two make," Cinderella cooed. "The very image of unity."

Red fought the urge to laugh. Unity? She could feel Chloe's disdain rolling off of her in waves.

The smalltalk dragged on- empty pleasantries, thinly veiled instructions to play nice. Red offered clipped answers, Chloe countered with frosty politeness. It was a duel of masks, and both were stubbornly unwilling to falter.

At last their mothers drifted away, satisfied with their performance. The moment they were gone, Chloe's smile dropped like shattered glass.

"You're late," she said coolly.

"I had to make sure I looked perfect for you," Red fired back, lifting her glass in a mock toast.

Chloe's jaw twitched. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Never," Red said, grin sharp.

Their sparring was interrupted by another intrusion- this time not from their mothers, but from a noblewoman nearby. "Oh, you two simply must dance!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "What better way to celebrate your future than a waltz?"

Red's blood ran cold. Chloe stiffened visibly beside her.

Before either could protest, more voices chimed in, echoing the suggestion with eager approval. The music was already swelling, the floor already opening.

Red caught Chloe's eye. For one electric moment, they shared a single thought: No.

But refusing wasn't an option. Not here. Not now.

Chloe extended her hand stiffly, her expression carved from marble. "Shall we?"

Red smirked, masking her own dread. "Try not to step on my toes."

Their hands met- warm against warm, loathing against loathing- and they stepped onto the dancefloor.

The waltz began.

Dancing with Chloe was less like gliding and more like fencing with hidden blades. Every step, every turn was a contest for dominance.

Chloe led with rigid precision, her movements sharp, controlled, commanding. Red countered with deliberate recklessness, spinning just a fraction too fast, dipping just a touch too low, daring Chloe to stumble.

They whispered their venom through gritted teeth, their lips never betraying the tension.

"You're heavy-footed," Chloe hissed as Red twirled her.

"You're uptight," Red shot back, pulling her closer than necessary before releasing her with a flourish.

Chloe's nails bit faintly into Red's hand as they circled. "You're insufferable."

"And you," Red said, voice silk and venom," are predictable."

To the watching crowd, they were radiant- a fiery-haired queen-in-waiting and a dazzling princess, moving in perfect harmony. But beneath the illusion, it was a storm. Each tug of Chloe's arm met with Red's stubborn resistance, each push matched with an equal pull.

The music rose, swelled, and at last, ended. They froze in the final pose- faces inches apart, breaths uneven, eyes blazing.

The crowd erupted into applause.

Red let go of Chloe's hand as though it burned.

Later, Red found herself cornered once more by her mother.

"You were sloppy," the Queen of Hearts murmured, her voice a low hiss.

Red's head snapped up. "Sloppy?"

"You let her lead you," her mother accused, eyes sharp. "Do you want the court to think you're weak?"

"It was a dance," Red bit out. "Not a battle."

"Everything is a battle." Her mother's gaze was unyeidling. "And you must win."

Red's chest heaved. "Maybe I don't want to play this game."

Her mother's expression hardened. "Then you are unworthy of the crown."

The words struck deeped than Red wanted to admit. Her throat tightened, fists clenched.

Without another word, she seized a glass from a passing tray and drained it in one swallow. the wine was bitter, stinging her tongue, but it dulled the sharpness in her chest.

Another glass followed shortly after.

The rest of the evening blurred into a haze of polite conversation and cutting remarks. Red played her part when needed, smiled when her mother glared, even endured another brief encounter with Chloe, who looked as furious as she felt.

But the weight pressed heavier with each passing hour: the eyes, the whispers, the expectations.

By the time the final toast was made and the crowd began to thin, Red's cheeks were warm with drink, her jaw sore from clenching.

She caught sight of Chloe across the room, radiant still in her frosted gown, speaking stiffly with nobles. Their eyes met only once, fleeting and sharp, before they turned away.

Red exhaled, long and slow.

The ball wasn't over just yet.

Chapter Text

The wine was sweeter than she remembered. Or maybe it was her fifth glass- or sixth- that made it taste like candied fruit instead of the usual bitter swallow. Either way, the glass in her hand was lighter than air, and so was her head.

The ballroom blurred together: silk gowns swishing in patterns across the polished floor, laughter chiming like glass, chandeliers dripping golden light that seemed far too heavy to cling to the ceiling. Red leaned against the drinks table, the wood cool against her bare arm, her crimson gown spilling around her like fire licking up from the floor.

If her mother had her way, she’d be spinning politely in some duke’s arms, wearing that frozen smile Chloe Charming wore so well. But her mother wasn’t here at the drinks table. Her mother wasn’t the one taking steady gulps of wine as if the room might vanish if she sobered up.

“Not enjoying yourself, Lady Red?”

The voice was smooth, teasing. Red lifted her head and found him standing across from her. Blond hair combed neatly back, a navy doublet trimmed in gold, the perfect jawline of someone born to have his portrait painted before he could walk.

Prince Dorian of Gallantmere. She knew the name vaguely; her mother had mentioned him before, ticking off eligible bachelors as if reading out a market list.

Red smirked, raising her goblet. “Does it look like I am?”

He grinned. “It looks like you’re hiding.”

“Sharp eyes,” she said lazily, tilting her head. “And what are you doing here? Looking for a partner who won’t step on your shoes?”

He chuckled, moving closer. “Maybe. Or maybe I was looking for someone interesting.”

“Then you should keep walking.” She tossed back another swallow of wine. “You’ll only be disappointed.”

But instead of retreating, he leaned against the table beside her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne- something crisp and sharp, like pine and leather. His hand brushed hers casually as he reached for a goblet. She didn’t move.

Red knew how she looked: hair spilling in loose waves, gown hugging curves, hazel eyes glinting sharper in the candlelight. The wine made her bold, reckless. When Dorian’s hand lingered, she let her shoulder graze his arm, let her laugh spill too loudly when he joked about the musicians.

“You’re very forward,” he said, clearly amused.

“Forward?” She traced a fingertip along the rim of her goblet. “No. Just not boring.”

He laughed, leaning in so their arms pressed together now. She smelled the faint hint of wine on his breath. She smirked, lifting her gaze to meet his. For a moment, the world narrowed: his smile, his hand edging closer to hers on the table, the warmth of his presence against her.

She played along, twirling a strand of her hair before letting it fall against his shoulder, deliberately careless. He froze, then smiled again- slower this time.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

“Only if you’re stupid enough to fall,” she murmured back.

The wine fizzed in her blood. Her heart raced- not because she wanted him, but because here was something to do. Something reckless. Something her mother would hate.

And across the ballroom, someone else was watching.

Chloe had been trapped in yet another dance when she saw it.

Red, leaning into Prince Dorian as though the two had been old friends. Her head tilted back in laughter, her shoulder brushing his, her hair spilling over him like fire. Dorian, grinning like a cat with cream, clearly enraptured by her every move.

Chloe’s chest burned with something hot and unrelenting. Anger, yes. Humiliation, certainly. But underneath, a prickling edge she didn’t want to name.

How dare Red do this? How dare she laugh like that, touch like that, when half the kingdom was watching? When their mothers had bound them together for all the world to see?

Her dance partner was speaking- she didn’t hear a word. As soon as the music ended, she broke away, skirts whispering as she strode across the room. She ignored the whispers that followed her, ignored the tight coil of fury in her stomach.

She reached them- Dorian startled, Red smirking lazily as if she had been expecting her. Without hesitation, Chloe seized Red’s wrist.

“We’re leaving,” she hissed.

“Oh?” Red slurred, her lips curling. “Jealous, Charming?”

“Balcony. Now.”

She dragged her through the crowd, ignoring Dorian’s baffled expression, ignoring the curious eyes of courtiers. Red stumbled along, too tipsy to resist, laughing under her breath as if this were all some delightful game.

The night air hit them as the doors closed behind, cool and sharp compared to the heavy warmth inside. Stars spread across the dark sky, indifferent to the fire burning between them.

Chloe released her at last, whirling to face her. “What were you thinking?”

Red leaned back against the railing, swaying slightly. “Thinking? I wasn’t.” She laughed, breathless. “That’s the point, Charming. To stop thinking.”

“You humiliated me!” Chloe’s voice cracked sharp against the night. “Do you know how that looked? Our mothers, the court- all of them staring at you draping yourself over Prince Dorian like-”

“Like what?” Red taunted, though her voice wavered.

“Like you weren’t engaged!” Chloe snapped. “You are betrothed to me, Red! You can’t- you can’t just-” She cut herself off, fists clenching. “Do you even care what image you give? Or do you just enjoy dragging us both through the mud?”

Red’s smirk faltered. She gripped the railing tighter, eyes glassy. “Image. Reputation. Duty. Always the same words with you, Charming.”

“They matter,” Chloe bit out.

“Do they?” Red’s voice rose, jagged. “Do they matter more than me?”

The question hung in the air, startling even herself. She swayed forward suddenly, too close, brushing Chloe’s shoulder as she leaned nearer. Her hand caught Chloe’s wrist, grip warm and unsteady.

“You want the truth?” Red’s hazel eyes shone, wet in the starlight. “You terrify me less than he does. Than any of them.”

Chloe froze. “What are you talking about?”

Red laughed, bitter and soft. “Men. Princes. Kings-to-be. They’re all the same. Smiles like wolves. They see you as a prize, or worse, a possession. If I’d had to marry him, or any of them…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, staring up at the sky as if it would swallow her whole. “I’d rather die.”

The words weren’t careful. They weren’t sharp. They were jagged edges spilling out, bleeding all over the marble night.

“I hate my mother for this,” Red continued, voice thick now, unsteady. “I hate that she chose for me, that she tied me down. But I’m grateful-” She stumbled, Chloe catching her arm instinctively. Red clutched onto her, fingers curling tight around Chloe’s sleeve. “I’m grateful it’s you.”

Chloe blinked, speechless.

“At least with you,” Red whispered, leaning so close Chloe could smell the wine on her breath, “I know I’ll be hated honestly. Not smothered with lies. Not owned.”

Her voice shook, cracking open. “You think I don’t see you? All perfect smiles, all duty. But you don’t own me. And I’d rather face your loathing than a man’s love.”

Chloe’s chest ached in ways she didn’t understand. “Red…”

Red laughed again, weak and bitter. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll forget this in the morning. That’s what the wine is for.”

She swayed, leaning her forehead briefly against Chloe’s shoulder- uninvited, messy, desperate. Chloe stiffened, then stood still, caught between shoving her away and holding her up.

The stars above glittered cold and distant, but down on the balcony, Red of Hearts finally cracked open, and Chloe Charming was the only witness.

Chapter Text

The light was cruel.

Red groaned as it slipped past the tall velvet curtains, carving its way directly into her skull. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, but it did nothing- her head throbbed, her throat was dry, and her stomach turned with every movement. The faint perfume of wine still clung to her dress from the night before, though at some point during the night she must have kicked it halfway off. One sleeve hung loosely at her elbow, twisted and wrinkled, her legs tangled in sheets she couldn’t remember crawling beneath.

She cursed under her breath and turned over, squeezing her eyes shut. Never again, she thought bitterly. I’m never drinking again. She’d thought that same vow countless times before, after countless royal functions, and every time she’d broken it with ease. But today, with her body punishing her so thoroughly, the words carried a fragile conviction.

The pounding in her head intensified as she tried to recall details of last night. She remembered the clinking of glasses, the swirl of dancers, the dull ache of her forced smiles. She remembered her mother’s sharp voice cutting through the hall, the pressure of duty pressing in until she’d found her way to the drinks table like a moth to flame. Beyond that, though, things blurred. She could see fragments, hazy and disjointed- the gleam of a man’s ring when he leaned close, the dizzy tilt of her own laughter, the cool night air brushing her skin at some point… but the order of things, the substance, it slipped through her aching mind like water.

She sat up too quickly, regretting it instantly. Her vision swam, the room turning into a dizzying blur of golds and creams. One hand shot to her temple, pressing as though she could hold her brain still inside her skull. The other hand groped blindly for the glass of water left by the bedside. Blessedly, it was there. She gulped it down greedily, wincing at the sting of the cold, then set it aside, her breath ragged.

Her maid entered quietly a few moments later, carrying a tray with more water, a small plate of bread, and a cup of steaming herbal tea. The woman’s eyes softened at the sight of her. “Rough night, Your Highness?”

Red let out a raspy laugh that was more groan than amusement. “You could say that.”

The maid said nothing more, only placed the tray on the bedside table and drew the curtains a little closer, dulling the punishing sunlight. Red mumbled her thanks, then reached for the tea. The steam smelled sharp, minty, promising relief, though her stomach twisted at the thought of actually drinking it.

She took a tentative sip anyway.

The silence of the room weighed heavily. Usually, after a night like this, Chloe would already be nearby- poised, pristine, insufferably collected, waiting with some biting remark about Red’s lack of self-control. It was almost routine by now: Red would drink herself into oblivion, Chloe would scorn her in some perfectly enunciated sentence, and the cycle would begin again.

But this morning, Chloe was absent.

Red frowned, lowering the cup. The emptiness pressed in. There was no sign of her in the adjoining chamber, no sound of footsteps pacing as Chloe prepared for whatever lessons or duties filled her schedule. No deliberate, cutting silence radiating from her corner either. Just… nothing.

“Where is she?” Red muttered under her breath, her voice hoarse.

The maid glanced up from adjusting the curtains. “Lady Chloe was seen leaving her quarters early this morning, Highness. She hasn’t returned.”

Red’s frown deepened. Leaving early was unusual for Chloe, who adhered to her routines like scripture. And leaving without some sharp word or pointed glare in Red’s direction? That was unheard of.

The unease in her stomach spread. She pushed aside the plate of bread, no longer hungry, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was icy against her bare feet, jolting her more awake. She took a deep breath and stood- too quickly again, the room spinning briefly- but forced herself forward, one hand braced on the bedpost.

She needed answers.

The corridors of the palace buzzed faintly with morning life: servants sweeping, maids carrying baskets of linens, courtiers drifting through on their way to early meetings. Red dragged herself through them, her steps uneven, her head still pounding. She ignored the sideways glances from servants who could no doubt smell the remnants of wine on her.

She went first to Chloe’s chamber. The door stood firmly closed. Red knocked, waited, then pushed it open without waiting for permission.

Empty.

The bed was made, every corner of the quilt tucked in with military precision. A vase of fresh flowers sat untouched on the side table, their petals still full and bright. No book left open on the desk, no cloak draped over the chair. Chloe had indeed left early, and deliberately so.

Red stood in the doorway for a long moment, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Fragments of last night teased the edges of her memory again. She’d spoken to someone- no, argued?- but the face blurred. And there had been the cool night air, the stars overhead. Someone beside her. Someone… Chloe?

She shook her head, instantly regretting it as the pain flared. No. Impossible. Chloe would never have wasted her time with her outside on a balcony. And yet… the unease gnawed deeper.

She spent the better part of the morning searching.

First, she prowled the gardens, her eyes flicking across the hedges and fountains with growing frustration. No Chloe. The training yard was next, though she knew Chloe wouldn’t risk her ankle so soon after the tournament. Still, she checked, her irritation mounting when she found nothing but guards sparring lazily.

By midday, her temper was thin. The weight of her headache hadn’t lifted; the mint tea had dulled the sharpest edge of it, but it lingered like a punishment she couldn’t shake. The more she failed to find Chloe, the heavier her chest felt, though she refused to name the sensation.

She finally cornered one of Chloe’s attendants near the library. The young girl bowed quickly, eyes darting nervously.

“Where is she?” Red demanded, her voice sharper than intended.

The girl stammered. “I- I don’t know, Highness. Lady Chloe asked not to be disturbed today. She… she left word that she would be occupied.”

“Occupied with what?”

The girl shook her head, shrinking beneath Red’s glare. “She didn’t say.”

Red dismissed her with a wave, though frustration curled hot in her gut. Avoiding me, she realized, the thought slamming with unexpected force. That was the only explanation. Chloe wasn’t occupied- she was deliberately keeping out of reach.

And for some reason, that stung.

By late afternoon, Red dragged herself back to her chamber, her body heavy, her mind restless. She collapsed into a chair by the window, pressing her forehead to the cool glass. Outside, the sun hung low, gilding the palace gardens in molten light.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind from the night before- sharp, demanding, suffocating. She’d drowned it with wine, and now she was left with emptiness and fragments she couldn’t piece together.

But beneath all of that, it was Chloe’s absence that gnawed most.

Usually, she couldn’t stand Chloe’s presence- her perfect posture, her cutting words, the way she embodied every expectation Red despised. Yet now, stripped of it, the silence unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

She leaned back, shutting her eyes against the late light, the weight of exhaustion pulling at her. Her last coherent thought before drifting into a restless doze was one she didn’t dare put words to.

Why did it matter so much that Chloe wasn’t here?

Chapter Text

Chloe had woken before dawn, though she’d hardly slept at all.

The words still clung to her mind, tumbling endlessly, spoken in a voice that was usually sharp, biting, mocking. But last night—no, last night Red had been different. Vulnerable. Loose-tongued from drink, but… honest in a way Chloe had never expected.

“I’m grateful it’s you… at least it isn’t a man. They’re all the same…”

Chloe pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead as she sat upright in bed, staring at the faint, pale light filtering through her curtains. It had been hours since the ball ended, hours since she’d helped Red back inside after that raw, disjointed confession, yet the memory still burned, vivid and unrelenting.

She should have dismissed it. Red had been drunk—slurring, swaying, unsteady on her feet. Chloe knew better than anyone that alcohol twisted truth and turned words into nonsense. And yet…

There had been no mistaking the rawness in her eyes when she looked at the stars. No mistaking the way her voice cracked when she spoke of being relieved.

And Chloe, against every instinct she’d trained into herself, had believed her.

It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

So, when the first pale streaks of morning light broke across the horizon, Chloe had risen swiftly, dressed in her simplest riding attire, and left her chambers before anyone could stop her. She needed air, distance, space to smother the confusing whirl of thoughts clawing at her chest. She needed to remind herself who she was—and who Red was.

The stables smelled of hay and leather, familiar, grounding. Her mare, a sleek chestnut named Arden, flicked her ears forward at Chloe’s approach, snorting softly. Chloe stroked her neck, steadying her own breathing with the rhythm of Arden’s.

Within minutes, she was mounted and riding out of the palace grounds. The cool morning air stung her cheeks, whipping strands of hair free from her braid, but the sting was welcome. It cleared her head, or at least dulled the edge of the storm inside it.

She took the narrow woodland trail that curved away from the main road, the one that wound toward the cliffs overlooking the sea. It had always been her escape, the place she fled when duty pressed too tightly, when expectations threatened to crush her spine. Here, she could breathe. Here, she could exist without the constant weight of eyes watching, judging.

The cliffs greeted her with the crash of waves far below, the tang of salt sharp on the air. Chloe dismounted slowly, letting Arden graze near the edge where the grass grew long, and walked closer to the precipice.

The horizon stretched endless, painted in hues of rose and gold as the sun climbed higher. She wrapped her arms around herself, not for warmth but for steadiness.

And then, at last, she let herself think.

Why did she say it?

The question gnawed at her. Red’s words had been drunken, yes, but they had carried a truth Chloe couldn’t shake. Gratitude. Relief. Even, in some twisted way, trust.

It didn’t make sense. Red had never spoken to her with anything but venom. They had spent months trading barbs, cutting each other down, making it perfectly clear how much they despised the arrangement forced upon them.

And yet last night, in the soft glow of starlight, Chloe had glimpsed something unguarded. Something real.

She hated that it lingered with her now.

Because Chloe knew better than to believe in such cracks. She had been raised to guard herself, to expect deception, to trust no one’s words—least of all Red’s. And yet, when she replayed those slurred confessions in her mind, she felt the sting of sincerity beneath them.

And worse—worse than anything—was the strange twist in her chest when she remembered how Red had looked at her. Not with disdain. Not with mockery. But with something almost like… relief.

Chloe clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms.

“No,” she whispered fiercely to the empty air. “I won’t be taken in by her.”

It was easier, far easier, to remember the countless times Red had embarrassed her, insulted her, needled at every carefully constructed wall Chloe had built. Easier to remember the humiliation of being dragged into the spotlight by Red’s impulsive antics, or the sting of her barbed wit at every turn.

Easier to hate her.

And yet…

The sea roared below, endless and unrelenting, but it could not drown out the memory of that broken voice, those unsteady eyes.

Chloe stayed on the cliffs for hours.

The sun climbed higher, gilding the rocks with warmth, the cries of gulls echoing faintly above the crash of waves. She paced, sat, stood again, restless, unable to still her thoughts. Arden grazed contentedly nearby, unconcerned by her mistress’s turmoil.

She thought of returning a dozen times. Thought of the duties awaiting her at the palace, the endless questions her absence would provoke. But each time, the memory of Red’s voice drove her back another step from the decision. She could not face her—not yet.

Not while the words still burned so freshly.

When at last she mounted her horse again, the sun was high and the air warm. She rode slowly back toward the palace, her posture impeccable as ever, her face schooled into calm. But inside, the storm had not quieted.

By the time she returned, the palace corridors bustled with activity. Servants bustled with trays, courtiers drifted in clusters of murmured conversation. Chloe slipped through them with practiced grace, head high, expression cool, giving no sign of the tumult beneath her composed exterior.

She knew Red would be searching. It was in her nature—restless, impatient, unable to stand being ignored. Chloe could almost picture her, storming through hallways with that infuriating scowl, snapping at attendants in frustration.

The thought almost made Chloe smirk. Almost.

But the smirk faded quickly. Because beneath her composure, beneath the satisfaction of having successfully avoided her betrothed for the better part of the day, Chloe could not shake the deeper truth:

She was avoiding her because she didn’t know what to say.

For the first time since their betrothal, Chloe was uncertain how to face Red.

And that unsettled her more than anything.

Chapter Text

Red’s head was pounding. Not the kind of pounding she could sweep aside with a splash of water and a smirk either. This was the kind that felt as though a whole troop of drummers had taken residence behind her eyes, thundering with every step she took down the marble corridors.

She hadn’t been able to keep still in her chambers. The walls pressed too close, the air felt thick, and her mother’s sharp voice still lingered in her ears from earlier that morning: “You will learn restraint, Red. You will learn discipline. Do not think last night has gone unnoticed.”

Restraint. Discipline. All words that had no business being tied to her.

She dragged a hand through her loose red waves, muttering a curse beneath her breath. She needed distraction, something to slice through this fog in her skull. And yet every time she tried to anchor herself, her thoughts spun back to one thing. Or rather, to one person.

Chloe Charming.

Red had woken with a dry throat, a sour taste in her mouth, and no memory of how the night had ended. Just flickers. Stars. The chill of stone under her palms. A dark braid of hair that wasn’t her own, a voice that sounded equal parts furious and- what? Concerned? She couldn’t pin it down.

Now, every servant she stopped, every courtier she passed, she asked the same sharp question:

“Where is she?”

“Princess Chloe?” they would answer carefully, as though speaking her betrothed’s name aloud in Red’s presence might ignite something volatile.

“Yes, the very one,” Red would snap, hazel eyes flashing. “Where has she hidden herself?”

But all she got in return were nervous bows, vague gestures. She left early. She is occupied with duties. We haven’t seen her since dawn, my lady.

Red didn’t believe them. Chloe wasn’t the type to vanish without leaving a trail. Not unless she wanted to vanish. Not unless she was avoiding someone.

And that thought- it sank sharp as a dagger.

Avoiding me.

Red strode faster, boots clicking against polished stone. She couldn’t remember what she might have done to earn that avoidance, but something in her gut twisted all the same.

Chloe adjusted her grip on the sword, holding the practice blade firm in her hand as she faced the wooden dummy in the training yard. She struck cleanly, precisely- shoulders square, feet steady-but her mind wasn’t in it.

Every swing brought back the sound of a voice slurred with wine but honest in a way she’d never heard before.

“I’m grateful it’s you… at least it isn’t a man. They’re all the same…”

She sliced again, metal smacking wood with a dull thud, her breath escaping in a frustrated hiss.

Chloe had left at dawn to avoid this very storm inside her chest. She’d ridden out to the cliffs, walked the length of the gardens, spent hours here in the yard. Anywhere but within reach of Red’s sharp tongue and sharper eyes. She wasn’t ready to face her. Not when those words still echoed like a confession in the dark.

And yet- no matter how many times she told herself Red had been drunk, no matter how many times she reminded herself that Red would never remember, the memory stuck fast.

Chloe thrust the blade again, her muscles straining, sweat beading on her brow.

She hated herself for it- for letting a moment of weakness, a handful of drunken sentences, linger like this.

But she hated Red more.

Because Red had no right to upend her with words she would never even recall saying.

By afternoon, Red’s irritation had curdled into something else. She’d stalked through every hallway, thrown open doors, snapped at servants until they cowered from her approach. Still no Chloe.

Her mother had intercepted her at one point, lips thinned in disapproval. “You will not disgrace this family further,” the Queen of Hearts had hissed. “You will compose yourself.”

Red had only rolled her eyes and stalked off again, but her heart hammered louder with every corridor she searched.

Chloe was nowhere.

Nowhere, and yet she lingered everywhere. In the empty dining hall where her place at the table sat untouched. In the practice yard, where the sand still showed the faint prints of her boots. In the hush of the library, where Red caught a whiff of lavender perfume but no body attached to it.

She was a ghost, haunting the palace by her absence.

And Red hated it.

She pressed her palms against the cool stone of a window ledge, hazel eyes narrowing at the sight of the sun lowering toward the horizon. She hated the pounding in her skull, the sour churn of her stomach. She hated not knowing what had been said last night.

But most of all- she hated the gnawing ache of being shut out.

Chloe left the yard only when her arms trembled with exhaustion. She bathed quickly, dressed more formally, and busied herself with her mother’s paperwork. Cinderella spoke of trade routes and diplomatic meetings, her tone warm but firm, her hands graceful as she gestured across the maps.

Chloe nodded, asked questions, kept her posture impeccable. Outwardly, she was the perfect princess. Inwardly, her thoughts were still elsewhere.

She could sense Red circling the palace like a restless wolf. She’d heard the servants whisper it—how Red was demanding, storming, snapping.

Chloe pressed her lips together, smoothing her hands over the parchment. She could not face her. Not yet.

And so she didn’t.

Every corridor she walked, she listened first for the echo of boots. Every chamber she entered, she checked first for a flash of red hair. Each time, she turned another way, found another task, vanished before Red could catch her.

It was cowardly, perhaps. But Chloe wasn’t ready.

Not until she could lock away the echo of that voice under the stars.

By evening, Red was unraveling.

She’d paced herself raw, teeth gritted, headache spiking with every turn. And then- finally- a flicker.

Down one corridor, near the east wing, she caught a glimpse. A swish of blue curls, the rustle of skirts disappearing into the shadow of another passage.

“Chloe!” Red’s voice rang sharp against the stone.

The figure froze, just for a moment. Then, just as swiftly, it slipped into another hall. Gone.

Red’s jaw clenched. She sprinted forward, boots hammering, but by the time she rounded the corner, the space was empty.

She stood there, chest heaving, hazel eyes blazing at nothing.

Avoiding her. Deliberately.

Something in her chest twisted sharp, a flare of anger laced with something she refused to name.

“Fine,” Red muttered, voice hoarse. “Run while you can, Charming. I’ll catch you sooner or later.”

She pressed a hand to her temple, staggering slightly, the world swimming with the remnants of wine and the sharp edge of rejection. She turned back, slower this time, her throat dry, her pride burning like fire.

But beneath it all, her heart beat too fast.

Chloe closed her chamber door behind her and leaned against it, breath shallow, pulse hammering in her ears. She hadn’t meant to let Red get so close. She’d timed her steps carefully all day, ducked out of sight when necessary. But that last corridor—she’d miscalculated.

She clenched her fists, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Red had called her name. Angrily, yes, but there had been something else beneath it. Something that made Chloe’s stomach turn and her throat tighten.

She shook her head, forcing the thought away. She wouldn’t dwell on it. She wouldn’t let Red take up any more space in her mind.

But as she crossed the room, her gaze drifted to the balcony, to the same stretch of stars now pricking the evening sky.

And once again, against her will, she heard Red’s drunken voice in the dark.

Chapter Text

The corridors were quiet, deceptively so, as if the palace itself were holding its breath. The evening sun slanted through tall windows, spilling long streaks of gold across the polished marble floors, dust motes drifting lazily in the shafts of light. Red’s boots echoed with each step, hollow, deliberate, a rhythm that matched the impatience pounding in her chest.

She had tracked Chloe all day, tracing the girl’s careful, evasive path like a hunter following a quarry. Every servant she asked had offered nothing but vague gestures and evasive glances. The more elusive Chloe became, the more Red’s frustration turned inward, gnawing at her pride.

And now, finally, she had caught her- almost by accident, though Red would call it fate. The hallway narrowed, shadows pooling in the corners, a single tapestry hanging to break the monotony of stone walls. Red’s eyes landed on the familiar swirl of blue curls at the far end, Chloe pausing just long enough to adjust the sleeves of her jacket.

Red’s chest tightened. Every nerve in her body screamed, Now.

She closed the distance in long strides, the heels of her boots clicking sharply. Chloe’s head lifted at the sound, her brown eyes widening in momentary alarm. But before she could move, Red stepped into the corner of the hall, blocking her path completely. One arm pressed against the wall beside Chloe’s head, the other steady at her side, forcing her into a narrow space where escape seemed impossible.

“Red…” Chloe breathed, stiff, rigid, her body coiled like a spring. Her voice had that mix of exasperation and caution that Red knew all too well. “What are you-”

Red cut her off, eyes blazing. “Don’t ‘what are you’ me, Charming. I want to know- why are you avoiding me?” Her voice was sharp, low, demanding, carrying the weight of every unanswered question, every skipped step in the corridors, every evasion from this morning.

Chloe’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes darted briefly to the wall behind her, then to Red’s face. “I-“ she began, faltering. But Red’s expression, fierce and unrelenting, silenced her before the words could take shape.

Red leaned slightly closer, the faint scent of wine still clinging to her- a remnant from last night- mingling with the crispness of the evening air. “I’ve been searching for you all day, Chloe. All day. And I’ve had enough of these games.”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. Her shoulders squared as if preparing to resist. “I’m not playing games. I just… needed space.”

“Space?” Red’s tone sharpened, incredulous. “Space? You disappear without a word, and that’s ‘space’ to you?” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “You think I won’t notice? You think I’ll just let you-” She broke off, swallowing as if the words had burned in her throat.

Chloe’s own eyes flared. She refused to shrink under Red’s intensity, refusing to yield even as her stomach twisted with unease. “I- don’t know what you mean.”

“You do know,” Red snapped, stepping closer, shrinking the already tight space until Chloe’s back pressed against the smooth stone wall. “Don’t pretend you’re some innocent, charming little princess. I’ve been around you long enough to know when someone is deliberately avoiding me.”

Chloe swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The heat from Red’s proximity wasn’t pleasant- it was unsettling, invasive- but she could not allow herself to step back. Not yet. She couldn’t give Red the satisfaction of fear.

“I’m not avoiding you for fun,” she said finally, voice firmer than she felt. “I just… needed time. Is that so hard to understand?”

Red’s eyes softened slightly, though only for a heartbeat. Then, with a tilt of her head and a breath that came out ragged from both frustration and exhaustion, she said, “Time? You’ve been avoiding me since the moment we left the ball. Time doesn’t make this okay.”

Chloe felt a stab of guilt but shoved it down immediately, replacing it with defiance. “It’s not about okay. It’s about… processing.”

“Processing what?” Red pressed, leaning in further. Her voice dropped to a low murmur, almost intimate despite the heat of their mutual loathing. “What happened last night?”

Chloe froze. Her mouth opened, then closed. Red’s words cut through the careful mask she’d been wearing all day, leaving her exposed in ways she didn’t expect. Her stomach knotted, her palms sweaty, heart hammering against her ribs.

“You- ” she began, but Red’s hand, resting lightly against the wall above her head, stopped her again. Not aggressively- deliberately. Dominantly. Red was in control of this encounter, and Chloe hated herself for noticing.

“Don’t pretend it didn’t happen,” Red murmured. Her voice softened slightly, strained, vulnerable even, though she still held the intensity of a storm in her gaze. “You heard me, Charming. You know what I said. Don’t act like it meant nothing.”

Chloe’s breath hitched. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this, even now. Even after Red’s drunken words, after Chloe’s own attempts to bury it, the other girl had the nerve- the gall- to bring it up again.

“It does mean nothing,” Chloe spat, though her voice trembled. “Because you don’t even remember it! You were drunk!”

Red let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Do you think that matters? That I can’t remember? You think that excuses everything? I don’t care that I was drunk. I meant it. Every word.”

Chloe’s heart lurched. She wanted to step back, wanted to retreat into her own armor, but something in Red’s eyes held her in place. Not pleading. Not demanding. Just… open. And for some reason, it made Chloe’s chest tighten painfully.

“You… you’re impossible,” Chloe said finally, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. She hated the sound of it. Hated the way it made her feel. “You make things… harder than they need to be.”

Red’s lips curved, though not in amusement. More like the shadow of a smile, a crease of tired vulnerability she’d never allow anyone to see sober. “I didn’t make anything harder. You did, Charming. You’re the one hiding. You’re the one running.”

Chloe blinked. Her mind reeled, every defense she had built crumbling a little under the weight of Red’s words. She wanted to argue, to shove her away, to reclaim the distance she’d fought for all day. And yet… she couldn’t move.

Red’s gaze softened further, the fire in her eyes dimming just enough to let the rawness shine through. “You’re avoiding me,” she said again, low, almost a growl. “And it’s killing me.”

Chloe’s throat tightened. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from something else- something else. She swallowed hard, finally letting herself speak, voice unsteady.

“I’m… scared,” she admitted, just barely above a whisper. “Scared that… I’ll believe you. That I’ll let you in.”

Red’s breath hitched slightly. Her hand relaxed from the wall, lowering just enough to hover at her side. She didn’t step back, didn’t give Chloe an inch of space, but the tension between them shifted, subtle, fragile. Vulnerability had seeped into their war of wills.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Red admitted, her voice raw, quiet, roughened from the night before and the day’s hunt. “I don’t care if you hate me for it. I just… needed you to know.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. She had expected anger, sarcasm, or mockery. She had not expected truth. Not like this. And it hit her in the chest, a blow sharper than any fencing blade, leaving her momentarily breathless.

Red leaned back slightly, easing the weight of dominance, but keeping the physical closeness, letting the tension linger. Chloe pressed her back into the stone wall, feeling trapped- but not just by Red’s presence. By the realisation that she had no words to respond, no shield to raise, and no control over how fast her heart was beating.

The corridor remained empty around them, the sun dipping lower, painting the walls with fading light. Every sound- the shuffle of distant servants, the faint rustle of tapestries- was amplified in the quiet.

And in that stillness, Red waited, her hazel eyes holding everything Chloe had been trying to ignore.

Finally, Chloe let out a shaky breath. “You’re… impossible,” she whispered again, but this time it lacked anger. It was more truth than insult, more admission than defiance.

Red’s lips quirked faintly. “Maybe,” she said, voice low, almost vulnerable. “But at least I’m honest.”

Chloe didn’t answer. She only pressed her forehead against the wall behind her, closing her eyes briefly, letting herself feel the ache in her chest. Red remained there, steady, a presence she couldn’t ignore, couldn’t push away, no matter how much she hated to admit it.

The sun slipped behind the palace walls, leaving the corridor bathed in soft, muted twilight. Their standoff lingered- neither moving, neither speaking further- but something between them had shifted, subtle, delicate, almost imperceptible. A truth had been laid bare, and though neither of them would say it aloud, the distance had narrowed just slightly.

And for the first time in days, neither of them wanted to leave.

Chapter Text

The chambers were quiet, almost oppressively so, and Chloe pressed herself against the back of the high-backed chair by the window, arms folded tightly across her chest. The sunlight had faded to a softer amber, and the quiet tick of the clock seemed unnervingly loud in the otherwise still room. She could still feel Red’s presence—the weight of those hazel eyes, the slant of her body, the way she’d cornered Chloe like a predator holding her prey.

She swallowed hard, shaking her head as if the motion alone could dislodge the memory.

It’s absurd, she told herself. Completely absurd.

Yet the heat rising in her cheeks contradicted her thoughts, the rapid beat of her pulse in her ears louder than any words she could muster. Why did her stomach twist like this? Why did her hands tremble just remembering Red’s glare, her close proximity, the tremor in her voice when she’d admitted she was grateful it was Chloe?

I hate her. I loathe her.

Chloe’s jaw tightened as she pressed her hands into her thighs, fighting the odd mix of agitation and something else she refused to name. Gratitude. Vulnerability. She wanted to shove it away, to tell herself it didn’t matter, that Red’s drunken confession was meaningless. And yet, despite her best efforts, her mind played the moment over again: Red’s head tilted slightly, the stray curls catching the light, her lips pressing together in a way that somehow seemed… unsure.

I can’t think like this. I refuse to think like this.

Chloe rose abruptly, pacing the length of the chamber. Her boots clicked softly against the wooden floor, echoing through the room in sharp, staccato bursts. She stopped at the mirror, catching her own reflection: blue curls messy from the day’s efforts, eyes darkened with fatigue, and yet… something vulnerable lingered in the way she held herself, a tension she could not easily disguise.

It’s just frustration. Nothing more. That’s all.

She spun away from the mirror, running her fingers through her hair, and went to the training mat where her fencing swords rested. Gripping the handle of her practice blade, she struck at the dummy with precise, methodical swings. The thud of metal on wood echoed through the chamber, a grounding rhythm. Yet her mind could not follow the motions. Each strike carried the weight of unspoken emotions, the confusion of a heart that refused to obey her reason.

She stopped, breathing hard, hands shaking slightly as she lowered the blade. Her thoughts churned relentlessly.

Why am I thinking about her like this?

The question lodged deep in her chest, sharp and unwelcome. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. Her stomach churned, her chest ached, but she could not deny it: Red’s presence had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. More than she should allow herself to admit.

I hate her. I loathe her. I—

Her teeth clenched, cutting off the thought, and she spun sharply to face the window. Outside, the palace gardens were bathed in the soft glow of evening, and Chloe’s eyes lingered on the empty pathways. No Red. Not yet.

Good, she muttered under her breath. Let her stay away. I need… I need space.

But even as she spoke the words, she could not shake the residual warmth of the memory, the ache in her chest that insisted she felt something for the girl she claimed to despise.

Red had not returned to her own chambers after leaving the corridor. Instead, she prowled the palace, restless and irritable, trying to make sense of the day, of Chloe, and of the storm of emotions she could not name. Every corridor felt too long, too empty, and every closed door was an insult, a reminder of Chloe’s deliberate avoidance.

She ran a hand through her fiery hair, muttering under her breath. “Where are you, Charming? You can’t hide forever.”

Her stomach knotted, the hangover from the previous night twisting uncomfortably, yet there was something sharper than the alcohol-induced headache—an anxiety she could not shake. She needed to see Chloe. Not just to understand why she had avoided her, but… something deeper, something she refused to acknowledge even to herself.

She paused outside the library, leaning against the doorframe, scanning the quiet room for any sign of movement. None. Then the faintest sound: a tap of boots on the wooden floor from the hallway beyond. Hazel eyes narrowed. Could it be her?

Red crept forward cautiously, heart pounding in her chest, the residual tension from the evening before still taut beneath her skin. She felt the ghost of the corridor, the memory of pressing Chloe against the wall, and despite the frustration and lingering hangover, a strange warmth crept along her spine.

Why do I care so much? she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. She hates me. She’s avoiding me. Why does this bother me?

Her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword—an unconscious gesture—though she had no intention of drawing it. It was just… instinct. A tether to herself, to her own grounding. But her mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of Chloe’s tense posture, the way her arms had crossed defensively, and how every inch of her had radiated both defiance and uncertainty.

Evening had deepened, and Chloe found herself in the gardens, walking along the gravel paths lined with lanterns casting soft pools of light. She moved slowly, deliberately, hands clasped behind her back. Her body felt restless, but she forced herself to walk, to occupy herself with the meticulous observation of the flower beds and the neatness of the hedges. Anything to distract from the storm of her own emotions.

Yet her mind betrayed her at every turn. She replayed Red’s hazel eyes, the soft quiver in her voice that had betrayed the vulnerability she had tried so hard to ignore. Chloe pressed a fist to her mouth, stifling a sigh.

It’s just… alcohol. That’s all. She’ll forget.

And yet, she could not convince herself entirely. The memory lingered, a stubborn weight that refused to be ignored.

She found herself sitting on the low stone wall bordering the lily pond, staring at the reflection of the moonlight rippling across the water. Every ripple distorted her own reflection, but it couldn’t distort the truth: Chloe was unsettled. Confused. And infuriatingly aware of her own inability to reconcile her feelings.

Why does it matter? she whispered to herself. She’s annoying. She’s… infuriating. That’s all.

Still, the warmth in her chest would not be ignored.

Red had followed the faint echo of footsteps from a distance, pacing behind, careful not to be seen. Her hazel eyes tracked Chloe’s every motion, noticing the way she pressed her lips together, the subtle clench of her jaw, the restless sway of her posture.

Frustration roiled alongside something else she didn’t want to name. Curiosity? Concern? She shook her head, scowling at herself. She hates me. I’ve cornered her once today, she fled. Why am I following?

Yet, even as she chastised herself, her pace slowed, and her eyes lingered on Chloe. The girl’s hair caught the lantern light, creating a halo of soft blue around her head. Her posture—rigid yet delicate—made Red’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

“I hate that I care about this,” Red muttered under her breath. “I shouldn’t care. She hates me.”

But she did care. More than she wanted to admit. More than she wanted to confront.

Hours passed. Chloe stayed in her chambers after returning from the gardens, moving about her room with mechanical precision. She cleaned, arranged papers, practiced with her sword in small, controlled movements—anything to keep her mind from drifting. Yet her thoughts always returned to Red, to that corridor, to the strange vulnerability she had seen beneath the girl’s usual defiance.

She buried her face in her hands, pressing her forehead against her palms. Her heart beat unevenly, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the uncertainty of emotions she could not name. Anger, irritation, jealousy, frustration—all tangled into a knot she could not unravel.

And in the quiet of her chambers, Chloe finally admitted something she would never say aloud: she had not expected Red to unsettle her so completely. She had not expected to feel… anything at all beyond irritation and loathing.

Yet there it was, gnawing quietly in her chest.

By nightfall, Red had given up her search—for now. The corridors were empty, the palace hushed. She slumped against a balcony railing overlooking the gardens, hands gripping the cold stone, staring at the moonlit path below where Chloe had disappeared hours ago.

Her mind replayed the day: every narrow escape, every tense glance, every word left unspoken. She hated the distance, the avoidance, but she hated it most because she couldn’t stop thinking about the girl, about her reactions, about the quiet vulnerability she had glimpsed.

Red sighed, head leaning against her palm. The alcohol had worn off, leaving raw nerves and emotions she could not control. She pressed her free hand to her chest, feeling the erratic pulse beneath her ribs.

Why do I care so much? she wondered again, voice barely audible in the night air.

Chloe, somewhere above, behind the closed doors of her chamber, stared at the same moon, unaware that Red lingered, feeling the same ache of unresolved tension. Two hearts, unwilling to admit it, beating in different rooms yet connected by the same invisible thread of frustration, desire, and confusion.

And neither of them moved to close the distance, not yet.

Chapter Text

Chloe had not slept.

The candles in her chamber had long since burned to stubs, leaving her in darkness broken only by the faint light of dawn prying through the curtains. She had lain awake, eyes open, staring into that dimness with her thoughts moving in tight, endless circles. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard again Red’s voice from that balcony- slurred with drink, yes, but heavy with something else too. Gratitude. Relief. Almost tenderness.

It should not have mattered. Red had been drunk, barely able to string her thoughts together without wandering. And yet Chloe had not been able to shake the weight of those words, the way they had pressed against her with uncomfortable intimacy.

Now the morning had broken fully, and Chloe told herself that she would not avoid her any longer. That had been weakness- childish, even. She had walked out, hid behind schedules, excuses, corridors, and silence. And still the feeling lingered, clinging to her with stubborn fingers.

The solution, she reasoned, was simple: confront it. Confront her. The sooner she forced this… this thing… into the open, the sooner it would dissolve. It had to.

She rose, washing quickly, dressing more carefully than she cared to admit. She checked her reflection twice — not because she was vain, she reminded herself, but because she needed the mask to be seamless. Poise. Composure. Control. That was what Chloe knew how to wield. That was what would protect her.

By the time she left her chamber, she had arranged her face into its familiar, cool expression.

Red was in the gardens.

She had wandered there late in the morning, pale and grimacing, her temples pounding with every step. Her head felt as though a smith’s hammer had lodged itself inside her skull. The sunlight did her no favors, making her squint against the brightness that stabbed through her eyes. She had been foolish enough to drink until the very end of last night’s ball, trying desperately to drown out the voices of her mother, the endless watching eyes, the suffocating obligations. She had succeeded only in punishing herself now.

She leaned against the stone railing of a terrace, staring out at the green sprawl below. Her mind was a haze- scraps of memory from last night slipping and vanishing as she tried to hold them. The ball. The music. The laughter. The wine. A man’s hand brushing against hers. A balcony under the stars. But every detail scattered when she reached for it.

And Chloe… She remembered Chloe pulling her outside, but not the words. Not clearly. Only flashes- Chloe’s voice sharp, her eyes bright with something Red could not name. After that, nothing.

Her stomach knotted. She had looked for Chloe in the morning, and the morning after that. Always she was gone- a closed door, a shadow at the end of a hall, a figure who slipped away just as Red entered. Red did not know whether it was deliberate or not, but it stung regardless.

Now, as she pressed a hand against her aching forehead, she heard footsteps on the gravel path. She turned, expecting a servant- and froze.

Chloe.

The girl’s stride was measured, almost regal in its control, her chin lifted just so. The light caught in her hair, her posture unshakable. Red’s heart lurched in confusion.

For a moment, neither spoke. The silence stretched taut between them, filled only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant trickle of a fountain.

Red straightened, or tried to, wincing as her head pulsed. “So,” she said, her voice scratchy, “you do exist after all. Thought you might’ve vanished into thin air.”

Chloe’s expression barely shifted. Her lips pressed into the faintest line. “I’ve been occupied.”

“With what?” Red asked. “Practicing how to walk past me without so much as a glance?”

A flicker- barely a twitch- touched Chloe’s face before she smoothed it away. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Red barked out a laugh, though it came out rough. “You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t bother denying it.”

“I don’t owe you explanations,” Chloe said, her tone cool, but her fingers curled against the folds of her skirt.

That should have ended it. But Red, driven by irritation and confusion and the lingering sting of being ignored, stepped closer. She planted a hand against the railing beside Chloe, boxing her in. The motion was instinctive, born from years of needing to assert herself when cornered.

Chloe’s composure faltered. Only slightly- but Red saw it. Her eyes widened for half a heartbeat before narrowing again. “What are you doing?”

“Getting answers.” Red leaned in, though the scent of flowers and stone made her stomach churn with her headache. “Why are you avoiding me? What happened last night? I can’t remember. You- you pulled me onto the balcony, I know that much. But then…” She shook her head, wincing. “Everything’s gone. And you’ve been cold as ice since.”

“You were drunk,” Chloe said flatly.

Red tilted her head, studying her. “And?”

“And nothing,” Chloe snapped. “You were drunk, and you behaved like it. That’s all.”

But her voice carried a sharpness that betrayed her, and Red heard it. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Red’s voice softened, confusion threading through it now. “Because if it were really nothing, you wouldn’t be running from me.”

Chloe stiffened. She hated the way Red’s eyes searched her- too piercing, too insistent, as though they could reach past the armor she wore. She shifted, but Red’s arm barred her path.

The silence stretched again, heavier this time. Red’s breath hitched, her shoulders tense. Chloe’s heart hammered traitorously against her ribs.

Finally, Chloe spoke, her words sharp as glass. “What do you expect me to say? That I enjoyed watching you let some stranger paw at you all night? That I found it charming?”

Red blinked, startled. “So you were watching.”

Chloe cursed herself inwardly. She had said too much, revealed too much. She turned her head aside, jaw tightening. “You embarrassed yourself.”

“Maybe I did,” Red muttered. Her voice cracked, and she hated that it did. “But I didn’t mean to. I was… I was just-” She faltered, closing her eyes briefly, as if steadying herself. “I was tired. Of all of it. Of them.”

Her words were quiet, but they cut through the air like a confession.

Chloe looked back at her then- really looked. Red’s shoulders were drawn tight, her usual fire dimmed beneath the weight of exhaustion. Even hungover, even cornering her, there was something raw and unguarded about her now.

Chloe felt something twist in her chest, sharp and unfamiliar. She smothered it at once. “That’s no excuse.”

“Maybe not,” Red whispered. “But it’s the truth.”

Another silence fell. This one was different- not sharp, not heavy. Awkward, yes, unbearably so, but threaded with something else neither dared to name.

Finally, Chloe stepped sideways, slipping out from the trap of Red’s arm. “I won’t discuss this here,” she said, her mask settling firmly back into place.

Red turned to watch her go, frustration and bewilderment colliding in her chest. She wanted to shout, to demand Chloe stop hiding behind that cold exterior. But the words caught in her throat, leaving her stranded in silence as Chloe’s figure receded down the path.

Left alone, Red pressed both hands against the railing and let out a shaky breath. Her head pounded, her body ached, and yet none of it compared to the ache of confusion gnawing at her now. Chloe was hiding something- that much was certain. But what? And why did it matter so much to her?

Chloe, for her part, walked away with her pulse racing, every step steady only because she forced it to be. She told herself she hated Red, that she could not stand her recklessness, her sharp tongue, her fire. And yet…

Yet she could still hear Red’s broken whisper, I was tired. Of all of it.

And for the first time, Chloe wondered if maybe- just maybe- she was not the only one wearing a mask.

Chapter Text

Two days passed in strained silence. Neither Chloe nor Red had spoken since the encounter in the gardens, though each carried it like a weight they could not set down. Chloe returned to her routines with almost mechanical precision, never faltering in her poise, while Red simmered under her mother’s constant eye, her hangover finally dulled but leaving behind a gnawing frustration she could not shake.

When the summons came, it arrived with the kind of formality that brooked no refusal. Both girls received identical notes in the neat script of palace officials, instructing them to attend a gathering in the great council hall at noon. The wording was clipped and impersonal, but the signature at the bottom made it clear: this was not a request. It was an order from the Queens themselves.

Chloe read her letter once, twice, and felt a ripple of unease course through her. She was not a guard. Neither was Red. What business had they being summoned alongside soldiers and captains?

Red’s reaction was less subtle. She had crumpled her note in her fist, muttering under her breath about “another tedious show of power,” though her mother’s sharp look had silenced her quickly enough.

By noon, they both found themselves filing into the great hall with the others.

The chamber was vast, built for authority rather than comfort. Arched ceilings soared overhead, the painted beams catching the light of dozens of chandeliers that glittered with candlefire. The floor was polished stone, its surface cool and gleaming, carrying every sound so that even the faintest shuffle of boots seemed amplified. At the far end rose a dais, draped in deep crimson and gold. Upon it stood two thrones.

Cinderella, the Queen of this half of the realm, sat with an elegance that seemed effortless, her silver crown gleaming in the light. At her side, the Queen of Hearts sat like a flame barely contained, her posture sharp, her gaze keener still. They did not need to speak for their authority to fill the hall; it was woven into the very air, commanding silence from those gathered.

Rows of guards lined the space below them, their uniforms immaculate, armor polished to a sheen. They stood rigidly in formation, spines straight, hands clasped behind their backs. The hall hummed with discipline, the collective breath of soldiers awaiting their orders.

Red was not among them. She sat upon the dais itself, a step below the Queens, her chair placed beside her mother’s. Her usual restless energy was carefully tucked away; she held herself still, her back straight, her expression schooled into something stern. Only her eyes betrayed her, flicking now and then to the crowd below.

Chloe stood in the front row of onlookers, separated from the guards but close enough to hear the Queens clearly. She kept her chin high, her face calm, though her thoughts buzzed uneasily. She was not accustomed to this world- the rigid order of soldiers, the raw presence of command. It felt alien, and yet she forced herself to appear as though it were all perfectly familiar.

The sound of a staff striking stone broke the silence. One of the heralds stepped forward, his voice carrying.

“All rise for Their Majesties, the Queen of Hearts and Queen Cinderella.”

The soldiers straightened, though most were already at rigid attention. The Queens did not rise- they did not need to. Their authority pressed through the air as naturally as breath.

It was Cinderella who spoke first, her voice measured and clear. It carried easily, echoing against the stone walls, filling every corner of the hall.

“You are gathered here,” she said, “because the safety of this realm rests upon your vigilance. Recent disturbances have reminded us that order must not waver, that discipline must not fray. Tonight, and every night to come, our guard will stand where shadows seek to creep.”

Her words were not loud, yet each syllable rang sharp, cutting through the hall like crystal chimes. The soldiers did not move, but Chloe felt the air thicken with the weight of obedience.

The Queen of Hearts leaned forward, her voice contrasting sharply with her counterpart’s calm. Where Cinderella’s tone was steady, hers was fierce- a fire that burned through the air.

“You are the line between us and chaos,” she said. “You will not falter. You will not stumble. You will not sleep.” Her words struck the hall like blows, punctuated by the faint creak of leather as the guards stiffened even straighter. “Every door. Every gate. Every hall and stair. You will be there. Watching. Waiting. Ready.”

Her gaze swept the room, searing over each face as though daring them to look away. No one did.

Beside her, Red remained still, though Chloe saw the flicker in her jaw- the way her teeth pressed together, her hand curled slightly tighter on the arm of her chair. It was strange, watching her like this. Strange, and… unsettling. The Red Chloe knew was fire and fury, uncontained. This Red sat silent, wearing seriousness like an ill-fitted cloak, as though bound by her mother’s very presence.

The Queens began to speak in turn, their voices weaving together- one measured, one fierce- as they detailed the plans.

“Shifts will be doubled.”

“Rotations cut to two hours, no longer.”

“Three stationed at the outer gates, no fewer.”

“Six at the north tower.”

“Patrols circling the grounds at all times.”

“Each name recorded. Each shift accounted for.”

The words echoed endlessly, reverberating against the stone walls until Chloe could feel them thrumming in her ribs. She watched the guards as they received the orders, their faces unreadable masks of discipline, though she wondered what fatigue hid behind those eyes, what exhaustion lay buried beneath such perfect posture.

At last, the Queens fell silent.

The herald stepped forward again, his voice ringing out. “Who will speak for the guard captains?”

A tall figure stepped forward from the ranks. His uniform was more ornate than the others, though still precise. He bowed deeply. “We hear and obey, Your Majesties.”

Cinderella inclined her head, graceful even in something so simple. The Queen of Hearts’ lips curled in the faintest smile, sharp and approving.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Cinderella’s gaze turned. Her eyes settled first on Chloe, then on Red.

“And so,” she said, her voice carrying over the silent hall, “our daughters stand witness to the vigilance of those who protect us. They, too, must understand the weight of duty.”

A ripple passed through the soldiers- the faintest flicker of glances, quickly stifled. Chloe’s pulse skipped. Red’s expression did not shift, though her fingers tightened again on her chair’s armrest.

The Queen of Hearts rose then, sudden and commanding, her skirts whispering against the stone. “This is what awaits you both. This order. This loyalty. This strength.” Her eyes flashed, burning as they fixed on Red. “It is not a game, nor a stage for defiance. It is a crown. And crowns are carried in blood and sweat and vigilance.”

The words hung in the air like thunder.

Silence followed, deep and heavy, until Cinderella rose as well, her presence softer but no less commanding. “You may go,” she said to the guards. “Hold your posts. Keep your watch.”

In unison, the soldiers struck their fists to their chests- the sound resounding like a drumbeat through the chamber. Then, one by one, they turned and filed out, their boots clattering against the stone in precise rhythm.

When the last of them had gone, the hall felt cavernous, the echoes lingering like ghosts.

Red remained seated beside her mother, her shoulders stiff, her expression unreadable. Chloe stood frozen where she had been, her breath held tight in her chest.

The Queens descended the dais together, their gowns sweeping the stone floor. As they passed, Chloe lowered her head in a bow. Red did not move until her mother’s hand brushed her shoulder- a reminder more than a gesture. She stood, her movements slow, almost reluctant, and followed in their wake.

The hall emptied, but the weight of the meeting lingered. The echo of voices, the vision of endless rows of guards standing unflinching, the sight of Red seated at her mother’s side like a soldier carved from stone.

For Chloe, it was a reminder of the world she had stepped into- a world built on discipline, authority, and unyielding control. For Red, it was a reminder of the chains she bore- and how visible those chains became when her mother’s shadow loomed over her.

Chapter Text

The echo of boots on stone still throbbed in Red’s skull long after the hall had emptied. She had sat there on the dais like a doll carved for display, her mother’s hand heavy on her shoulder, the weight of expectation suffocating her.

Now, in the silence of her chambers, she paced, the hem of her gown swishing against the floorboards. Every step was restless. Every thought was sharp-edged.

Her mother’s voice rang in her ears: You will sit. You will listen. You will learn what it means to rule.

Red pressed her palms to her temples and groaned. Rule? It felt more like chains. To sit there, silent, while her mother barked orders and the guards bowed like puppet- it was everything she despised.

And worse- far worse- was the presence of Chloe.

Red had tried not to look at her, standing proud among the soldiers, her chin lifted, her posture impeccable. But the image stuck anyway, refusing to leave. Blue curls catching in the light. That calm, cool face giving nothing away. As if she belonged there, in that hall of power, more than Red ever would.

It burned.

She stopped at the window, gripping the sill so tightly the wood creaked. Beyond the glass, the courtyard sprawled, bathed in late sunlight. She should have been able to think of something else- anything else. But her mind kept circling back. To Chloe. To the way her name had been spoken aloud in front of the guards, tied to Red’s own fate. To the stiff bow she had offered the Queens. To the way she hadn’t looked at Red once during the entire meeting.

It was infuriating.

It was haunting.

Red dropped her forehead against the cool glass and muttered under her breath, “Why can’t you just stay out of my head, Charming?”

But of course, Chloe never did what Red wanted. Even in absence, she lingered like smoke.

Chloe hadn’t expected the meeting to rattle her. She wasn’t a guard. She wasn’t a soldier. She was a princess who had been trained in courtesy and ceremony, not endless drills and rotations. And yet the sheer order of it- the unyielding discipline, the thrum of voices swearing obedience- had seeped under her skin.

But what unsettled her most hadn’t been the guards.

It had been Red.

Seated on the stage beside her mother, she had been… quiet. Still. Serious in a way Chloe had never seen. The girl of fire and fury, sarcasm and smirks, sitting like a figure carved in marble.

The image clung to Chloe even now as she sat at her desk, quill poised over a page she hadn’t touched in an hour.

Why should it matter?

She told herself it didn’t. Red’s composure was nothing more than a performance demanded by her mother. It was not impressive. It was not admirable. It was not-

Chloe sighed, pressing her quill too hard. Ink bloomed across the page like a spreading bruise.

She hated that it lingered. She hated that her chest had tightened watching Red stay so perfectly silent, knowing it cost her more than she let on. She hated that her mind kept replaying the way Red’s jaw had clenched against invisible restraints.

What was wrong with her?

She shoved the parchment aside, rising abruptly from the chair. The walls of her chambers felt too close, too heavy. She needed air.

The corridor outside was dim, lit only by torches in their sconces. Her slippers whispered against the stone as she walked, faster than necessary, as if movement itself could scatter her thoughts.

But the palace corridors had a way of winding paths together, of steering footsteps where one least wanted to go.

Which was how Chloe, rounding a corner with her head full of unwelcome thoughts, nearly collided with the very girl she had been trying so hard not to think about.

Red almost didn’t recognize her at first. The corridor was shadowed, torchlight throwing gold across Chloe’s curls, catching the brown of her eyes and turning them nearly molten.

Red’s feet stopped before her brain did. Her eyes- traitorous things- lingered. A fraction too long. On the curve of Chloe’s shoulders held proud. On the faint flush in her cheeks from walking too quickly. On the way she froze when she saw Red, as though bracing for a storm.

Almost admiration. Almost longing.

Red’s chest tightened, and she tore her gaze away, covering it with a sharp smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite shadow. Couldn’t stay away from me, Charming?”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was hoping for anywhere but here.”

But her voice- there was something different in it. Less biting. More… measured.

Red tilted her head, studying her. “Funny. For someone who despises me, you certainly manage to find me often enough.”

Chloe scoffed, folding her arms. “As if I’d seek you out. The palace is unfortunately full of corners. You just happen to lurk in all of them.”

Her words felt hollow even as she spoke them. She could feel the echo of Red’s gaze still burning against her skin, as if those hazel eyes had left a mark.

Why had Red looked at her like that? Why hadn’t she snapped some cruel remark immediately, the way she always did?

Chloe forced herself to lift her chin, her arms tightening across her chest like armor. “Shouldn’t you be sulking in your chambers? Or was sitting silent beside your mother not enough of a punishment for you?”

The words were meant to cut. They should have.

But instead, Red laughed softly- a laugh without humor. “You saw that, did you?”

Chloe faltered. Her instinct was to double down, to twist the knife. But the tone in Red’s voice stopped her: quieter, rawer than she expected.

She recovered quickly. “I saw a girl pretending. Nothing more.”

The words stung, but not in the way Red thought they would. Pretending. Wasn’t that all it had been? Sitting still while her insides burned? Wearing seriousness like borrowed armor?

She stepped closer before she realized it, the space between them shrinking. Chloe didn’t move back- but her shoulders stiffened, as though bracing for impact.

“Tell me, Chloe,” Red said softly, almost dangerously, “do you always watch me that closely? Or am I special?”

Chloe’s breath caught. Just barely. Red saw it. And for a heartbeat- just a heartbeat- it felt like victory.

But then Chloe’s mask snapped back in place, her glare icy. “Don’t confuse scrutiny with admiration. Someone has to keep an eye on you, before you set the palace on fire.”

Red smirked, but her pulse was racing. “Maybe I already have.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, heat rising in her cheeks. She turned quickly, pacing a step away to hide the flush.

She didn’t know what unsettled her more- the words themselves, or the way Red had said them. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Something else. Something heavier.

Chloe’s throat felt tight. She told herself it was anger. She told herself it was loathing. But the memory of Red’s eyes lingering on her refused to fade.

This was dangerous. Too dangerous.

“I don’t have time for your games,” Chloe said finally, her voice colder than she felt. “Stay out of my way.”

She turned sharply, skirts whispering, forcing her feet to carry her down the corridor. Away.

She watched Chloe go, each step echoeing against the stone.

Her first instinct was to call after her, to draw her back with some biting remark. But the words tangled in her throat.

Because the truth was, she didn’t want to win this exchange. She didn’t want to end it.

And judging by the stiffness in Chloe’s shoulders as she disappeared around the corner, neither did she.

Red leaned back against the cold stone wall, exhaling slowly, her pulse still unsteady. “Damn you, Charming,” she muttered.

Then she pushed off the wall and walked the other way, back toward her chambers.

Chapter Text

The palace was too quiet.

Red lay sprawled across her bed, one arm over her eyes, trying to will herself into sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw her- Chloe- standing in the corridor, defiant as ever. Her words still echoed: Stay out of my way.

The smart response, the clever response, would be to laugh it off. To imagine Chloe’s frown as comical, to dismiss the way her eyes had flared when Red leaned close. But instead, the memory tangled around her, dragging her deeper into wakefulness.

With a groan, she rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow.

Why did it matter?

Why did Chloe’s retreat feel like a loss?

Red kicked off her blanket and stood, pacing the length of her chambers. Outside, the wind whispered against the shutters. Somewhere down the corridor, a guard’s boots clicked in steady rhythm. Normally, noise lulled her. Tonight, it grated.

She wanted to storm down to Chloe’s chamber, hammer on the door, demand answers. But even drunk, she hadn’t been reckless enough for that.

Instead, she paced. Restless. Burning with questions she refused to admit she had.

Sleep never came.

Chloe had lasted perhaps an hour in bed before giving up entirely.

Her mind wouldn’t still. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Red’s expression shift- the smirk faltering, her voice dropping lower, softer. That fleeting moment when her bravado had slipped, revealing something raw beneath.

Chloe sat up, pushing her hair back with trembling fingers. She had no business caring. None. And yet her chest ached with unfinished words, with the weight of everything she hadn’t asked.

Her desk sat waiting, parchment and quill gleaming pale in the candlelight. She didn’t think. She just moved, sitting swiftly, dipping the quill into ink before hesitation could freeze her.

Her hand shook slightly as she scrawled the words:

Meet me. Gardens at 1am.

She stared at them for a long moment, her heart hammering. Foolish. Childish. Dangerous. And yet, before doubt could swallow her whole, she folded the parchment, slipped into the corridor, and padded silently toward Red’s chamber.

The hall was empty. Her hand shook again as she slid the note beneath the door. Then she turned quickly, vanishing into shadow.

Back in her bed, she lay awake, her pulse thudding like a drum. She had no idea what possessed her. Only that she needed answers- and maybe Red was the only one who could give them.

The rustle at the door woke her.

Red frowned, dragging herself off the bed, hair mussed, eyes heavy. She bent, spotting the slip of parchment.

She unfolded it- and her heart stuttered.

Meet me. Gardens at 1am.

Chloe’s handwriting.

For a moment, Red simply stared, caught between triumph and confusion. She almost laughed aloud. So she had been right- Chloe hadn’t walked away because she wanted distance. She had walked away because she wanted more.

Red’s smile curled slow and dangerous. “Got you, Charming.”

When her clock struck the hour, she slipped silently into the corridor, cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Patrols were thicker tonight- her mother’s orders- and she had to time her steps carefully, darting into alcoves whenever boots approached.

The air in the garden was crisp, damp with dew. Moonlight silvered the hedges, casting shadows long and sharp across the grass. She followed the gravel path until she saw her.

Chloe.

Sitting beneath a tree, head tipped back against the trunk, curls tumbling loose. She was so still, lost in thought, she didn’t even stir when Red approached.

Until Red’s boot caught a twig.

Snap.

Chloe startled, head snapping toward her.

Red smirked, voice low. “Careful. You invited me here, remember?”

Her breath caught.

For a moment, all she saw was Red in moonlight, her smirk softened by shadows, her cloak sweeping like ink against the grass. The teasing words cut the tension, but Chloe couldn’t shake the way her pulse quickened.

She straightened, smoothing her skirt with quick, nervous hands. “I… I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Red arched a brow, smug. “As if I’d ignore an invitation from you.”

Heat prickled across Chloe’s cheeks. She hated how easily Red tilted the balance, how one smirk could undo her composure.

Still, she forced herself to speak. “I wanted to-” She broke off, the words tangling in her throat. Vulnerability was foreign to her, sharp-edged and dangerous.

But Red was watching her, not mocking- waiting.

Chloe exhaled. “I wanted to talk longer. In the hall. Before I walked away.”

The admission felt like swallowing glass.

Red’s smirk softened into something quieter. Almost tender. “So I was right.”

Chloe scowled, but it lacked force. “Don’t get too proud of yourself.”

But inside, she was reeling.

She didn’t crow her victory aloud, though the urge tugged at her tongue. Instead, she lowered herself to the grass beside Chloe, the cloak pooling around her. The earth was cool, the blades damp with dew, but she barely noticed.

She glanced sideways. “So. Talking. That’s new for us.”

Chloe’s lips pressed thin. “Don’t make me regret this already.”

Red chuckled softly, then let silence settle for a moment, broken only by the chirp of crickets. It wasn’t uncomfortable- not entirely. Just heavy with everything unsaid.

Finally, Chloe spoke, voice low. “Do you ever… feel trapped? Like every step you take is already chosen for you?”

Red blinked, taken aback. Vulnerability from Chloe was rare. She considered her words before answering. “All the time. My mother maps out my life like I’m one of her soldiers. Sit there. Smile there. Rule like this. Don’t embarrass me.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Sometimes I wonder if she’d rather I wasn’t me at all. Just a puppet in her likeness.”

Chloe looked at her then, truly looked. And for once, Red didn’t mask it. She let the exhaustion show. The weight.

Something softened in Chloe’s gaze.

She hadn’t expected Red to be honest. Not like this.

The bitterness in her voice wasn’t performance- it was pain. And Chloe, against her better judgment, felt her chest tighten.

“I know the feeling,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve spent my whole life following rules, keeping my mask in place. Because if I slip- even once- they’ll see I’m not as perfect as they want me to be.”

Her voice cracked, barely. She clenched her fists in the grass to steady it. “I don’t even know who I’d be without their expectations.”

The words hung between them, fragile and startling. She’d never said them aloud before. Not to anyone.

And then Red reached over.

“Hold still.”

Chloe froze as Red’s hand brushed gently through her curls, fingers deftly plucking a small leaf tangled near her temple. She held it up with a crooked grin.

“There. You’re too perfect to walk around with half a tree in your hair.”

Chloe’s breath hitched. The gesture was teasing, yes- but gentle, too. Intimate in a way that made her pulse race.

She looked away quickly, hiding the warmth rising in her cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

But her voice lacked bite.

She savored the moment- Chloe’s startled breath, the faint pink across her cheeks. She didn’t push further, though the temptation thrummed through her.

Instead, she leaned back against the tree, gazing up at the scattered stars. “You know, Charming, for someone who claims to hate me, you’re awfully easy to talk to.”

Chloe huffed softly. “Don’t twist this.”

But Red only smiled, closing her eyes briefly. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on her chest eased.

Beside her, Chloe was silent- but she didn’t move away.

And in that quiet, under the garden sky, Red let herself think- just for a moment- that maybe neither of them wanted to.

Chapter Text

Chloe shifted slightly on the soft grass beneath the old oak, her skirts brushing the dew-soaked earth. The garden was hushed, bathed in silver moonlight, the scent of night-blooming flowers mingling with the dampness of the grass. Every so often, a breeze ruffled her curls, and she shivered despite the mild evening air.

Red sat beside her, leaning lazily against the tree trunk, cloak pooling around her legs. Her head tilted back slightly, eyes half-closed, lips parted, her sharp edges softened by exhaustion. Even the faint curl of her smirk seemed slower now, as if her usual spark had been dimmed by the hours spent under the weight of her mother’s expectations, the palace, the guards.

Chloe tried not to let herself notice how vulnerable Red looked- how human, how fragile. She had spent so long denying anything about this girl but loathing, but now, watching her drift slowly toward sleep, she felt something stir in her chest.

“You’re… really sleepy,” Chloe remarked, her voice careful, almost hesitant.

Red’s eyes fluttered open, catching Chloe’s gaze, and she let out a soft, teasing groan. “You think? It’s barely past midnight, and I feel like someone tied my eyelids to bricks.”

Chloe almost laughed but stopped herself. It wasn’t teasing now- her voice carried concern, a careful weight she wasn’t used to lending anyone, least of all Red. “You should go back to your chambers. You’ll… you’ll regret staying here.”

Red tilted her head, letting a faint smirk linger even as her eyes glimmered with exhaustion. “And miss this view?” She motioned vaguely toward Chloe, then added with a yawn, “Or miss you staring at me like a hawk, trying to catch me in a weakness?”

Chloe’s cheeks flushed. “I… I’m not staring at you.”

Red chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the distant rustle of leaves. She shifted closer, the warmth of her presence brushing against Chloe’s arm. “You’re staring, though. Admit it.”

Chloe blinked, flustered, glancing away to hide the heat creeping up her neck. “I wasn’t.”

Red’s smirk widened slightly, though her eyelids drooped. “You were. Admit it. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Chloe’s hands tightened in her lap, quivering slightly. Why was she feeling so flustered? She was the one supposed to hold herself together, supposed to be strong, composed. And yet… Red being here, so close, so unguarded, so different from her usual sharpness, stirred something she didn’t want to name.

Red yawned again, stretching lazily, her back sinking into the cool grass. Moonlight kissed her hair, lighting the fiery strands like a halo, and her eyes found Chloe’s once more. There was a strange calmness in Chloe now, quiet and observant, but not cold. Not commanding. It was the first time Red had felt… at ease around her, though a small, wary tension lingered.

“Charming,” Red murmured softly, her voice rough with tiredness, “why are you still here?”

Chloe’s eyes darted up, lips pressed into a thin line. “I… I wanted to talk longer. Before. Before I stormed away in the hall.”

Red’s lips quirked into a smirk, though her eyelids threatened to close. “I suspected as much. I could tell.”

Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t get smug about it.”

Red shook her head slightly, smirk fading into something gentler, quieter. “I’m not… really. Not tonight.”

The words felt heavier than she intended. She hadn’t realized how comforting it was to be here with Chloe, talking like this, away from her mother’s eyes, away from the guards and the polished hallways. Away from the world that demanded she be everything except herself.

Her eyes flicked back down to the grass. The dew cooled her hands as she stretched them along her knees. “I feel… lighter here, somehow.”

Chloe blinked, startled at the admission. She had never heard Red say something so… real, so unguarded. A part of her wanted to tease, to dismiss it as a trick, but she couldn’t. Not now. Not when Red’s hazel eyes, usually sharp and mischievous, were softened by fatigue and moonlight.

Chloe’s own defenses wavered. She had spent so long keeping Red at a distance, keeping her judgment sharp, her wit quicker than Red’s, her loyalty to herself above all else. And yet, here, beneath the tree, in the quiet of the gardens, she realized how much she had underestimated the weight Red carried.

“You… really don’t get a lot of rest, do you?” Chloe asked, her voice gentler than she intended.

Red let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Rest is… complicated.” She blinked slowly, her head leaning back against the trunk, and then tilted it toward Chloe. “You… you get it, though, don’t you?”

Chloe hesitated. “I… I think I do. More than I’d like to admit.”

Red’s lips curved in a small, tired grin. “See? We’re not so different, you and I. Both… carrying our own weight, fighting our own battles. Just… in different ways.”

Chloe nodded slowly, blinking at her hands in her lap. “I never… thought I’d be here, like this, talking to you. Alone. At night.”

Red’s voice softened even more, almost a whisper, “I know. Me neither.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rustle of leaves and distant hoots of owls. Red’s body sagged slightly against the tree, exhaustion making her movements languid, graceful in a lethargic sort of way.

Chloe noticed, instinctively scooting closer, as if proximity could somehow anchor them both.

“Stay,” she said quietly, almost hesitantly. “Even if… even if you fall asleep.”

Red’s head lifted slightly, eyes opening fully to meet Chloe’s. “Stay?”

Chloe nodded, shoving down a nervous flutter in her chest. “I… I don’t want you to leave. Not yet. Not while we’re… talking.”

Red let out a soft laugh, hoarse but amused. “You’re… impossible, Charming.”

Chloe’s cheeks warmed. “I know.”

Red leaned closer, finally letting herself sink fully against the tree trunk. “Alright,” she murmured, voice low and drowsy. “I’ll stay.”

Red felt the grass beneath her, soft and cool, and the night air brushing her face. Moonlight kissed her hair, and Chloe’s presence beside her was both grounding and unnerving. She wanted to speak, to tease, to push some sharp comment, but exhaustion claimed her tongue.

Instead, she simply let herself sink, letting the cool earth support her and Chloe’s quiet company comfort her. Her eyes flicked to Chloe once more, to the way she sat with arms loosely in her lap, curls grazing her shoulders. Vulnerable, yet poised. Strong, yet hesitant.

Red’s lips curved into a faint, contented smile. She didn’t want to think about why she felt this pull- why every instinct told her to linger here, to listen, to watch- just yet. Not tonight. Tonight, it was enough to simply exist beside Chloe, beneath the stars.

And slowly, inevitably, her eyelids fell, heavy, the last sound she heard the soft rasp of Chloe’s breath and the gentle rustle of the leaves above them.

Chloe’s gaze lingered on Red, whose head had tilted slightly, body leaning deeper into the tree trunk. The soft rise and fall of Red’s chest, the way her fingers twitched occasionally as if even in rest she carried some tension- it was captivating.

Chloe found herself unconsciously inching closer, brushing her sleeve along Red’s arm, careful not to touch too much, careful not to intrude. Yet she didn’t move away, didn’t command her to leave. She wanted this- wanted Red here, wanted her presence, wanted the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“Good,” Chloe whispered softly, almost to herself, “stay.”

Red let out a small, half-murmured laugh, as if acknowledging the command, even in sleepiness.

Chloe exhaled, letting herself relax for the first time in days. For once, she didn’t have to mask her curiosity, her attention, her concern. For once, she could just… sit, and watch, and listen. And maybe, she thought, that was enough.

The night stretched on, stars twinkling silently above, the garden bathed in silver light. Red slept lightly, and Chloe sat beside her, heart thudding, thoughts tangled and racing- but at peace in a way that was dangerous and new.

For the first time, Chloe realized that sometimes, letting someone in didn’t mean losing control. Sometimes, it meant learning to hold onto something fragile- together.

Chapter Text

The world was hazy around her as she stirred, eyelids fluttering. The cool night air brushed her cheeks, carrying the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the palace night. Slowly, awareness crept back. Her senses sharpened before her mind fully caught up- the faint scent of Chloe’s curls against her nose, the soft warmth pressing against her side.

Her eyes widened as realization struck. Her head had shifted slightly while she dozed, and now it rested gently against Chloe’s shoulder. The steady rise and fall of Chloe’s chest beneath her cheek made Red’s pulse quicken in a way she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

She froze, every instinct screaming to move, to step away- but her body protested. Any motion now, and she’d risk waking Chloe, breaking the delicate quiet between them. She shifted ever so slightly, careful to keep her weight minimal, letting herself simply exist in the moment.

Chloe, oblivious, leaned back against the tree trunk, eyes closed, curls catching the moonlight. Red’s lips curved into a small, soft smile. The girl looked impossibly vulnerable in this soft glow, far from the defiance and fire she usually wielded so effortlessly. Red had never seen Chloe like this. Never truly seen her at all.

The night seemed to stretch around them, suspended in silver light. Red’s fingers twitched near Chloe’s arm, tempted to brush a curl behind her ear, but restraint won. She had promised herself she wouldn’t disturb her. Not yet.

Finally, after what felt like hours in suspended breath, Red leaned closer, letting her words slip quietly into the night. “I’m gonna head back up now.”

Chloe’s response was soft, drowsy, almost incomprehensible at first. “…Yeah… me too.”

Red smirked faintly at the sleep-tinged murmur, marveling at the simplicity, the trust hidden in the two words.

Slowly, carefully, Red lifted herself, careful not to jostle Chloe. Her legs stiffened with the effort, and she took a cautious step back. Chloe stirred slightly, murmuring but not waking, a gentle sound that made Red’s chest tighten in a way she didn’t understand.

Sleep had finally claimed her after the long, restless day, and she had sunk into the comfort of the soft grass beneath the oak. But even in her slumber, the world whispered at the edges of her mind. She felt warmth pressing against her side, the faint scent of Red’s hair teasing her senses, and though her eyes were closed, a sense of awareness lingered.

When Red’s words reached her- soft, distant, half-fogged by sleep- she registered them slowly. “Yeah… me too,” she murmured, voice barely more than a breath. It felt natural, almost automatic, as if the words had been waiting for her lips without her conscious thought.

Chloe didn’t stir immediately as Red began to rise, only letting her body shift lightly when a soft movement brushed against her arm. Even groggy, even tired, she felt the pull of the moment- the quiet intimacy, the trust implicit in Red’s careful movements.

She let herself stay still, curling slightly against the tree trunk, savoring the lingering warmth and the heavy calm that came from simply being near her, knowing Red would stay close.

The garden had changed under moonlight since they first arrived. Shadows stretched long across the gravel paths, and the scent of damp earth and nightflowers seemed more pronounced as the world waited quietly. Red led the way with careful, measured steps, guiding them toward the palace, her senses sharp despite the lingering fatigue.

Every shadow, every distant step of guards’ boots, sent her pulse spiking. She was acutely aware of Chloe behind her, fragile and silent, trusting her entirely to navigate the night. It was a responsibility that pressed warmly against her chest.

Then, just as they rounded the edge of a high hedge, a flicker of movement caught her eye. A guard, lantern in hand, his boots scraping softly against the stone path. Red froze instantly, instinct snapping into full force.

Her gaze met Chloe’s, and in a single, fluid motion, she shoved her into the narrow alcove beside the hedge. The suddenness of it almost sent her toppling forward, and Chloe yelped, a startled breath escaping her lips.

Red’s heart thudded as she caught herself against the stone, nearly landing atop Chloe in the cramped alcove. Her pulse thundered in her ears as their bodies pressed close, nearly touching, and she could feel the warmth radiating off Chloe’s skin. Her breath caught- sudden, sharp- as she realized the intimacy of the moment.

“Shh,” Red whispered, voice low but steady. “Move. Don’t breathe too loud.”

Chloe’s brown eyes were wide, staring up at her in the dim light, curls tumbling across her forehead. “Red… what-” she began, but her words cut off in a hiss as Red’s hand lifted, brushing a stray curl from her face.

Red’s own heartbeat stuttered, a fleeting moment of awareness passing over her. Her hands were steady, though her chest raced. "Shhh," was all Red could say. The alcove was small, confining, but she didn’t move. She simply waited, letting Chloe breathe, letting the moment exist in its charged, unspoken tension.

The guard’s steps drew closer. Red froze, calculating, every instinct honed in this instant. The lantern’s glow flickered against the stone walls, shadows stretching. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of them pressed together in silence.

Finally, the guard passed by, oblivious, muttering under his breath. Red exhaled slowly, lowering herself slightly, careful not to disturb Chloe.

“Stay close,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Chloe’s hand brushed hers instinctively as they eased back onto the path, moving silently, cautiously, like shadows themselves.

Chloe’s mind raced as they crept through the gardens, heart hammering from the near encounter. Her chest pressed against the cold stone, every nerve alive with tension. She had expected danger, of course- patrols were heightened- but Red’s sudden shove, her proximity, the way her hand had lingered near Chloe’s curl… it was disorienting.

She couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t focus on her usual defensive thoughts. Red was here, steady, capable, and so unnervingly close that Chloe’s own heartbeat felt too loud. She wanted to pull back, to reassert her control, to tell Red to stop, to leave her alone. But every instinct was tangled, every thought muddled by the sheer intensity of the moment.

Instead, she let Red guide her, let her presence anchor Chloe even as her mind scrambled to understand what had just happened.

When Red whispered to stay close, Chloe obeyed instinctively, almost too easily, as if some part of her had been waiting for this. Waiting for Red to claim a little space beside her in this night of shadows.

The remainder of the journey up to their chambers felt longer than expected. Patrols seemed to appear at every corner, each lantern casting dancing shadows that threatened to expose them. Red’s senses were heightened, her muscles coiled with alertness, yet there was a subtle comfort in Chloe following silently behind her.

Every so often, she stole a glance back. Chloe’s expression was tense, brows furrowed slightly, lips pressed in that stubborn line that had defined her for so long. And yet… she stayed. Trusted her. That trust, in a moment of chaos, sent a warmth through Red that she couldn’t name.

Finally, they reached the stairway leading to their chambers. Red let out a quiet breath, pressing herself against the wall to peer around the corner before descending. When the hallway appeared clear, she took Chloe’s hand lightly.

“Careful,” she murmured, almost teasing despite the adrenaline. “Almost there.”

Chloe’s grip tightened slightly, unspoken acknowledgment of the closeness between them- the shared heartbeat of adrenaline, fear, and something softer beneath.

They moved in silence, descending carefully, each footstep deliberate, hearts in sync, the palace corridors suddenly a gauntlet of tension.

When they finally reached the landing outside their chambers, Red released Chloe’s hand, leaning back against the wall. “Safe,” she breathed. “We made it.”

Chloe exhaled shakily, brushing a curl from her face, her gaze flicking toward Red. “Yeah… we did.”

Red’s smirk returned, faint but warm, as she watched Chloe slip inside her chamber first, closing the door behind her. Red lingered a moment, the hallway quiet except for the faint rustle of silk from the night breeze through the open windows.

Finally, she stepped toward her own room, brushing a hand through her hair, chest still racing from the adrenaline, from the nearness, from the tension that had left them both breathless.

But in the quiet of the palace, beneath the shadowed arches, Red’s thoughts lingered stubbornly on Chloe. The warmth, the trust, the fleeting closeness… it all burned quietly in her mind, impossible to ignore.

And as she closed her chamber door behind her, Red allowed herself a small, private smile. Tonight, they had survived. Tonight, they had shared something unspoken.

And tomorrow, the tension would rise again- but for now, she could savor it.

Chapter Text

The sunlight filtering through the tall windows of the dining hall was merciless. It spilled across the polished oak floors, warmed the gilded chairs, and glinted off the crystal glasses set neatly along the long breakfast table. For Red, though, the light was intrusive, almost hostile. Her eyelids weighed heavy, refusing to cooperate, and her hair tumbled in wild, tangled waves around her face, catching on the corners of her mouth as she sipped from a cup of tea that was far too hot and far too bitter to be comforting.

She rested her forehead against the edge of her hand, letting it absorb a fraction of the morning’s brightness, but it did little to ease the weariness she felt. The night had left her more exhausted than she expected, and the fleeting thrill of the garden escapade had done nothing to refresh her energy. Her body ached slightly from the strain of sneaking through corridors, crouched behind hedges, and the adrenaline had only just begun to fade.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, a familiar figure appeared. Blue curls tumbled around a sleepy face, the brown eyes half-lidded in defiance against the morning sun. Chloe. Her presence made Red’s chest tighten subtly, a sensation she wasn’t ready to analyze.

Chloe slid into the seat opposite her, yawning just enough to show she was equally exhausted. Bags under her eyes betrayed the same restless night that had drained Red. The sight was both amusing and strangely comforting- they were in the same boat, both a little ragged, both human in their fatigue.

Red smirked despite herself. “Well, look who decided to join the land of the living.”

Chloe groaned dramatically, resting her chin on her folded arms. “Hardly. More like the land of sleep-deprived zombies. I think we might actually die from exhaustion before noon.”

Red tilted her head, studying her. “You sound tired, Charming. Who knew all that bravery and perfect posture hid a secretly fragile girl?”

Chloe snorted, the sound muffled by her arms. “Watch it, Glass. You’re in no position to tease anyone this morning.”

Red laughed, a low, amused sound that rumbled from her chest. The noise seemed to cut through the heaviness in the hall, and Chloe’s head lifted slightly, peeking over her arms with a smirk.

“Alright, fine,” Chloe said. “I’ll give you a point for surviving last night. But don’t think I’ll let it slide that you fell asleep under the tree like some- some ridiculous-” She stopped abruptly, chuckling when Red raised an eyebrow at her. “Fine. Some ridiculous person.”

Red’s smirk softened, then widened into a full, sheepish grin. “I fell asleep under a tree. In the middle of the night. Like a- like a human, apparently. Is that your point?”

Chloe laughed, the sound light and musical, and Red caught herself. She hadn’t expected to hear Chloe laugh at her so openly, so freely, and the sensation was almost dizzying. “Yes,” Chloe said between giggles, “that’s exactly my point. You’re… pathetic. But in an oddly endearing way.”

Red rolled her eyes, her smirk returning but softer this time. “Oddly endearing? Charming, you’re killing me with this morning cheer.”

Chloe leaned back in her chair, laughing quietly, eyes twinkling with amusement. The warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a soft blanket, pushing aside the lingering tension from the night before. For once, their banter felt less like a battle and more like… a conversation. A connection.

Chloe’s laughter subsided into a quiet smile, watching Red sip her tea with exaggerated slowness, her hair a tousled halo around her flushed face. She had never seen her like this before- so relaxed, so unaware, and so distinctly… human. It was disarming, but also comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit.

“You know,” Chloe said carefully, her tone teasing but warm, “you should really thank me for not telling anyone about last night. I mean, falling asleep in the garden… that’s not exactly what people expect from you, is it?”

Red tilted her head, her hazel eyes gleaming with sleepy amusement. “Thank you,” she replied smoothly, the words more sincere than Chloe expected. “I appreciate your restraint, Charming. Truly. Your discretion is impressive.”

Chloe blinked, startled. “Wait… wait, you’re actually thanking me? You’re not trying to twist it into some jab or sarcastic comment?”

Red shook her head, leaning back against the chair. “Nope. No jabs. No sarcasm. I think… last night, things got a little out of my control. And apparently, I owe you some gratitude for… surviving it with me.”

Chloe felt a flicker of warmth she couldn’t name. The teasing, the sarcasm, the usual battles of wit between them had been replaced by something softer, something… human. She gave a small, almost shy smile in return. “Well… I suppose I can accept that. Just this once.”

Red chuckled softly, reaching for her tea again. Chloe watched the movement, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way her hair caught the light- a rare, vulnerable moment that seemed impossibly intimate.

The sound of chairs scraping and the faint shuffle of footsteps caught their attention. Both girls turned instinctively toward the entrance of the dining hall.

Through the doorway stepped their mothers, both already dressed for the day in their regal attire. Cinderella moved with her usual grace, soft blue gown flowing, eyes sharp and assessing as she took in the breakfast hall. Beside her, the Queen of Hearts was statuesque, ruby-red attire gleaming, her expression as commanding as ever.

Red felt the weight of their gazes settle on them immediately, and she straightened slightly in her chair, trying to summon some semblance of composure despite her exhaustion. The bags under her eyes and the tousled hair betrayed her completely, and she could tell Cinderella had already noticed.

Cinderella’s eyes softened slightly as she approached, voice warm but tinged with curiosity. “Girls… you both look… rather tired this morning.”

Chloe’s chest tightened. Red’s eyes widened slightly, and a brief, panicked look passed between them. Breakfast was supposed to be casual, quiet, under the assumption that they would be composed. Their mothers noticing- and noticing so directly- threw them off balance entirely.

Red, ever quick-thinking, sipped her tea and tried to mask the lingering haze of sleep. “We… had a late night, Mother,” she said, her voice low but controlled. “Some… study for the upcoming events.”

Chloe’s cheeks warmed at the weak excuse, but she nodded, quickly adding, “Yes. I was… catching up on some… reading. Late hours, you know how it is.”

Cinderella’s smile was gentle, but it carried that knowing weight mothers had- a kind of soft authority that pierced through lies. “I do know,” she said, glancing at Red. “But it’s clear you both didn’t rest as you should. Perhaps you’ll take some time later to recover?”

Red swallowed, unsure how much she could admit without betraying last night’s escapade. “Of course, Mother,” she said smoothly, carefully avoiding the detail that Chloe had been with her.

Chloe, equally cautious, picked at her toast, pretending not to notice the way Red’s mouth curved at the sides as she held her cup. She could feel Red’s gaze flicking toward her occasionally, silent communication passing between them. It was a delicate, quiet acknowledgment that last night’s secrets were theirs to keep.

Chloe finally relaxed slightly when Cinderella’s gaze softened, realizing that their mothers were perhaps more curious than accusatory. Still, the tension lingered like a shadow over the table.

“Do try to rest,” Cinderella said lightly, her eyes twinkling, “even if it’s just a brief moment during the day. You both have duties that require sharpness, after all.”

Red and Chloe both nodded in unison, stifling small laughs at the timing and tone of their mother’s gentle admonition. Chloe’s glance met Red’s across the table, and a quiet smile passed between them. It was a private acknowledgment, fleeting but meaningful. They had survived the night, navigated the tension, and now- here, in the first light of morning- they could share a small, honest moment without pretense.

Chloe finally allowed herself a laugh, light and melodic, teasing but soft. “You really do make the oddest choices, Red. Falling asleep in the garden… next time, try a chair?”

Red’s laughter joined hers, low and amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Noted. But if I do, I’m dragging you along. You can’t let me face the night alone.”

Chloe’s cheeks warmed again, but the words made her smile, the warmth lingering. “Fine. But I’m bringing tea this time, so you’re fully awake.”

They shared a look, and in that moment, the weight of the previous night felt less pressing, replaced by the fragile joy of shared understanding. They didn’t need words to explain the trust, the quiet connection, or the subtle shift between them. It was there, undeniable, and it made their hearts both race and calm at once.

As the mothers took their seats, Red glanced down at her cup, letting the quiet morning settle around her. She could feel Chloe beside her, a steady presence, unspoken yet grounding. The room seemed suddenly less imposing, less regimented, as if last night had carved out a small, private space just for them.

The moment was fleeting, but the warmth lingered. Red could feel the weight of her exhaustion, yes, but it was softened by the laughter, the shared teasing, and the subtle acknowledgment of their closeness. It was dizzying and comforting in equal measure.

And for the first time in a long while, Red allowed herself to simply exist- not as the Queen’s daughter, not as the future wife everyone expected her to be, but as herself. And beside her, Chloe did the same.

The morning stretched on, filled with quiet chatter, clinking cutlery, and the soft sun filtering into the hall. Red and Chloe’s laughter subsided into comfortable smiles, the unspoken bond between them lingering, fragile but undeniable. For now, it was enough.

Chapter Text

Chloe adjusted the straps of her gloves, her fingers tightening just enough to remind herself she was prepared. The courtyard stretched out before her, guards lined in precise rows, armor glinting under the unrelenting sun. She surveyed them carefully, noting posture, alignment, and readiness, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Look at you,” Red’s voice cut through, low and teasing. She leaned casually against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Taking this far too seriously, aren’t you?”

Chloe spun toward her, a sharp scowl forming. “And you’re not serious enough,” she shot back, voice firm and measured, though her lips twitched despite her anger. “This is an inspection, Red. Not a leisurely stroll.”

Red shrugged, unfazed, her smirk widening. “Maybe, but clearly, I notice things you miss.” She tilted her head toward the nearest line of guards, fingers gesturing to a minor misalignment in their formation. “See that? You didn’t.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she followed her gaze. “Fine, so you do notice. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re treating this like a game.”

“I am treating it like a game,” Red admitted smoothly, “because I know you’re taking it way too seriously. And it’s… entertaining.”

Chloe let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Entertaining? You’re impossible.”

Red’s smirk softened just slightly, though the teasing glint remained. She studied Chloe without looking away, taking in the focus in her brown eyes, the way she moved with precision and care. Something about her concentration was… magnetic.

Their mothers’ voices suddenly rang across the courtyard, carrying authority that made both girls stiffen. “Girls,” Cinderella’s gentle yet commanding tone called, “you will assist with the inspection. Observe, report, and offer input where necessary. Consider it practical training for leadership.”

Chloe blinked, caught off guard. “Assist… with the guards?”

“Yes,” the Queen of Hearts added sharply, her voice echoing over the rows of soldiers. “This is your opportunity to evaluate them, ensure readiness, and understand responsibility. Leadership is not just observation; it is action, guidance, and authority.”

Red’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Practical training, huh? Sounds… fun,” she said, voice laced with mockery but tinged with genuine curiosity.

“Fun? You’re insane if you think this is fun,” Chloe retorted immediately, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

Red’s smirk widened. “Maybe. But we’ll survive. Probably. And maybe we’ll even learn something.”

Chloe gave a skeptical look, lips twitching despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Red said quietly, “somehow still tolerable.”

Chloe’s cheeks heated, but she refused to meet Red’s gaze. She concentrated instead on the guards before her, scanning every soldier with meticulous precision. Red moved alongside her, more relaxed in her approach but attentive nonetheless. Their styles clashed, yes, but it became a rhythm- a dance of observation and instruction, subtly coordinated.

“You missed a shift rotation report,” Chloe murmured, leaning closer, voice low.

“And you overcompensated for it,” Red countered, equally hushed, eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second before flicking back to the guards. The brief contact of their gaze sent an unexpected warmth through Chloe’s chest, though she masked it with a frown.

They continued this way for hours, alternating between critique and playful jabs, their laughter muted but genuine when minor mistakes arose. Red would roll her eyes when Chloe became overly meticulous, and Chloe would scowl when Red’s casual approach glossed over details. And yet, for the first time, neither pushed too far, neither provoked the other into anger- the teasing was lighter, softer, tempered by the shared understanding from the night in the gardens.

“You’re ridiculous,” Chloe muttered again, this time a faint smile creeping in despite herself.

Red tilted her head, hazel eyes flicking toward hers with an unreadable expression. “And yet… still fascinating,” she said quietly.

Chloe blinked, taken aback, and looked away immediately, suddenly interested in the alignment of the guards rather than Red’s lingering gaze.

As the inspection concluded, their mothers returned, observing their performance with satisfaction. “You handled this exceptionally well,” Cinderella said. “I am proud of both of you.”

The Queen of Hearts’ approval was firm but rare, nodding in acknowledgment. “Leadership is not inherited, it is practiced. You have demonstrated skill, attention, and a willingness to work together. Well done.”

Chloe glanced at Red, who caught her gaze and offered a small, knowing smirk. There was a lightness now between them- a subtle acknowledgment that the night’s confessions, the teasing, and shared effort had shifted the balance. They were closer, more willing to allow vulnerability, more attuned to each other’s moods.

Walking back toward their chambers, side by side, Red nudged Chloe gently with her elbow. “Don’t start smiling at me like that,” she murmured.

Chloe’s lips twitched, resisting the urge to grin. “I’m not,” she said, though she knew Red knew better.

Red’s smirk lingered as they climbed the stairs. She felt lighter than she had in weeks. Last night’s secrecy, the laughter, the morning’s small victories, all left a warmth behind her chest. The subtle bond they shared was undeniable now, playful but tender, teasing yet trusting.

Chloe, walking beside her, sensed it too. She didn’t need to speak it aloud, didn’t need to acknowledge fully what she felt, but she allowed herself a quiet comfort in Red’s presence. And Red, feeling the same, allowed herself a small, private hope: that perhaps, slowly, they were moving toward something neither had expected- a friendship, a partnership, maybe even more.

Chapter Text

Chloe adjusted the straps of her gloves for what felt like the hundredth time, though she knew they were tight enough to offer both protection and control. The line of guards stretched before her in perfect order, their polished armor catching the light, and every crease in their uniforms and every tilt of a helmet seemed to draw her gaze. She moved along the row slowly, deliberately, her fingers brushing over sword hilts and shield edges, testing balance, inspecting grips, observing posture. “Relax your shoulders,” she instructed one guard whose stance was too rigid. “Command looks effortless only when you’re confident. You can’t project authority while you’re tense.”

A soft, teasing hum behind her made her stiffen, but she didn’t turn. “I see you,” Red said, stepping into the sun and letting her shadow fall across the same line of guards. “Watching everyone like a hawk, I’m impressed. Or maybe… you just like being bossy.”

Chloe’s head snapped toward her, brown eyes narrowing. “And you’re far too casual to notice half the details that make a formation effective,” she said, voice firm. “This isn’t a social visit. Pay attention.”

Red shrugged, still leaning lightly on the archway. “I am paying attention,” she said, though her grin betrayed her amusement. “Just… not in the same way you are. I prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Chloe frowned, tilting her head as she observed the guards again. “Hands-on?”

“Yes,” Red said, sauntering closer, careful to keep her movements relaxed, almost languid, though there was purpose behind each step. “I find it easier to notice… issues in posture, sword handling, pivoting, rotations, when I’m right there. You know, physically demonstrating what I mean.” Her hazel eyes flicked to Chloe for a fraction of a second, lingering just enough that Chloe felt the familiar jolt in her chest.

Chloe swallowed, a flush creeping over her cheeks. “You’re deliberately distracting me,” she muttered, more to herself than to Red.

Red smirked, a faint heat rising in her cheeks too, though she masked it with amusement. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m simply trying to make the inspection more… entertaining.”

Chloe gritted her teeth but let her gaze sweep over the soldiers, correcting minor misalignments, adjusting grips, and issuing instructions with precision. “Everyone, pivot on your left, slowly,” she instructed, demonstrating herself. Her movements were careful, measured, a dance of authority that drew the eyes of the guards.

Red stepped closer, mimicking her motions but standing slightly behind Chloe, almost brushing against her elbow as she pivoted. “Like this?” she murmured, voice low, teasing. Chloe froze briefly, aware of the heat of Red’s body near her own, the soft brush of air from her presence, and the thrum of something she couldn’t yet name.

“You’re dangerously close,” Chloe muttered, voice low, keeping her composure but tightening her jaw.

“And you seem very aware of it,” Red countered, smirk curling her lips. Her fingers lingered on a sword’s hilt as if demonstrating the guard’s proper stance, but the angle made Chloe acutely conscious of Red’s proximity.

Chloe bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on the guard before her. “We’re not here for… distractions. Concentrate on the formation,” she said, though her voice held a subtle note of disbelief at herself for feeling anything at all.

Red leaned in, just enough for her words to brush against Chloe’s ear. “I am concentrating,” she said softly, “but I can’t help noticing… you. All of you, really. Every movement.”

Chloe stiffened, caught between irritation and something warmer. “I told you to focus,” she whispered back.

Red smirked knowingly, though her eyes softened ever so slightly. “I am. But perhaps… we could focus together?”

Chloe’s gaze snapped to hers, a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and a reluctant curiosity flaring in her chest. She shook her head and returned to her work, trying to ignore the warmth prickling at her skin.

The inspection moved on to the guards’ weapons. Chloe guided each soldier through a careful check: swords drawn and examined for sharpness, shields tilted and tapped for cracks or dents, straps adjusted for balance. Red followed beside her, quieter now, but still stepping into positions that mirrored Chloe’s, letting her hands hover just a fraction too close when demonstrating adjustments.

“You’re… very… thorough,” Red murmured as Chloe corrected a guard’s grip, her fingers brushing just the edge of Chloe’s hand. Chloe’s chest tightened at the contact, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she straightened, turning to instruct the next guard.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Chloe said finally, muttering just under her breath.

Red’s lips curved into a slow, sly smile. “Am I? Or am I just appreciating… the view?” Her hazel eyes flicked to Chloe’s face for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and Chloe felt her pulse spike in response.

They continued down the rows, observing rotations and practicing movements together. When a guard faltered, Chloe demonstrated the correct pivot, Red shadowed her immediately, standing slightly too close, brushing against her side, her presence warm and unrelenting. Chloe’s teeth clenched, half in annoyance, half in the shock of feeling something she didn’t understand.

“Stop trying to make me blush,” Chloe muttered, voice sharp, though a faint smile betrayed her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Red said, her tone low, teasing, though the heat in her gaze betrayed more. “It just… happens.”

By the time they moved to guard formations, the teasing had shifted almost imperceptibly to something softer, flirtatious. Red mirrored Chloe’s movements, demonstrating how to pivot without losing balance, how to hold a sword at an angle that projected authority. Each time her hands lingered just a moment too long near Chloe’s, a subtle thrill traveled through both of them.

Chloe finally allowed herself a small, private grin when a guard tried to step too fast, and Red caught it, letting her own smirk linger. It was quiet, but in that glance, both of them felt the tension and connection that had been building, silent and electric.

Their mothers returned just as Chloe was straightening from a final adjustment. Cinderella’s soft yet commanding presence radiated approval. “Girls, well done. Your attention to detail, guidance, and coordination are commendable. I am proud of both of you.”

The Queen of Hearts’ gaze swept over them sharply, but her nod held approval. “Leadership is not inherited; it is earned. You’ve demonstrated skill, initiative, and the ability to work together. Continue in this manner, and you will command respect in your own right.”

Chloe caught Red’s eye as they straightened, and Red’s faint smirk carried the weight of private acknowledgment. They didn’t speak, but a subtle understanding passed between them- the teasing, the flirtation, the warmth shared in small gestures and lingering touches.

Walking back toward their chambers side by side, Chloe nudged Red gently. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this,” she murmured, voice playful but tinged with lingering shyness.

Red grinned, a mix of mischief and something softer. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I like a challenge.”

Chloe’s lips twitched in a small, private smile. She didn’t need to say more. Red, walking beside her, felt the same warmth, a slow-burning connection growing from teasing, shared exertion, and small moments of vulnerability.

The courtyard faded behind them, but the feeling of proximity, subtle flirtation, and unspoken understanding lingered between them, a fragile yet undeniable spark neither had expected.

For now, it was enough- this delicate, teasing, charged connection. And for the first time in weeks, both of them walked with a quiet sense of anticipation for what might come next.

Chapter Text

Chloe adjusted the apron tied snugly around her waist, the smell of fresh herbs and bread filling the warm kitchen. She glanced across the long counter at Red, who was perched lazily on a stool, arms crossed over her chest, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Really?” Chloe asked, exasperated, stirring a pot of sauce that was already simmering perfectly. “You’re just going to sit there? We’re supposed to be working together, not… whatever this is.”

Red tilted her head, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m supervising,” she drawled. “Clearly, someone needs to make sure this sauce doesn’t suffer under your careful… attention.”

Chloe snorted, muttering under her breath, “Someone like you?”

“Exactly.” Red’s smirk widened as she swung her legs lightly, almost lazily tapping her boots against the stool’s rungs. “Someone like me.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but a slow, mischievous thought crept into her mind. She had spent yesterday's evening patrol enduring Red’s teasing, subtle flirtation, and impossible charm, and now… it was time to turn the tables.

“So… Red,” Chloe began, voice lilting slightly, deliberately catching Red’s attention, “how would you like to help me with this?” She tilted her head, brushing a curl of her blue hair from her shoulder, letting her gaze linger just long enough.

Red blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh?” she said, voice catching slightly, though she quickly masked it with amusement. “And what exactly would you have me do?”

Chloe moved closer, leaning lightly over the counter as she demonstrated how to knead the dough, her body just close enough that Red could feel the warmth radiating off her. “You can… help me mix. Carefully. We wouldn’t want to ruin it,” she said, voice softer now, tinged with teasing, with a deliberately slow, deliberate smile.

Red’s eyes flicked up at her, wide and hazel, betraying a slight flare of distraction. “Careful, huh? That’s usually what you say to… instruct me,” she said, though her voice had lost some of its casual edge. She moved toward the counter, a little closer than necessary, keeping her gaze locked on Chloe’s.

Chloe chewed her lip, a subtle thrill running through her as she felt Red’s tension. She let her hand brush lightly over Red’s when guiding her to knead the dough properly, letting the motion linger just long enough to draw a reaction. Red’s hand twitched almost imperceptibly, and Chloe allowed herself a faint smirk.

“You’re… intentionally doing this, aren't you?” Red said, voice low, eyes narrowing with a mixture of accusation and fascination.

Chloe shrugged, letting her fingers linger over the dough while her gaze met Red’s directly. “Maybe,” she admitted, letting the words trail just a little. “Maybe I want to see if you can handle it.”

Red exhaled slowly, running a hand through her red waves as if trying to regain composure. “Handle what?” she asked, voice tense but teasing, a hint of vulnerability hidden under her usual smirk.

“This,” Chloe said simply, leaning a little closer under the pretense of inspecting Red’s technique, letting her perfume drift faintly into Red’s senses. “Seeing if you can… focus when I’m right here.”

Red’s eyes flicked down at Chloe’s lips for a brief second before snapping back up, a blush brushing her cheeks despite herself. “You’re… unbearable,” she whispered, though there was no malice in it- only fascination, tinged with an edge of arousal she didn’t want to admit.

Chloe allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. “I know.”

For the next several minutes, the kitchen became a battlefield of slow, deliberate teasing and near-constant proximity. Chloe would brush Red’s fingers with her own when showing her how to knead the dough. Red would respond with mock indignation, only to linger a fraction longer near Chloe than necessary, almost unconsciously. Their eyes met often, each gaze holding a quiet challenge, a spark that neither wanted to extinguish.

Chloe let her hand drift closer when guiding Red’s motions, letting her thumb graze Red’s wrist under the guise of correction. Red froze for just a heartbeat, a sharp inhale betraying her composure, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned slightly closer, subtly tilting her body toward Chloe.

“You’re really testing me,” Red murmured, voice low.

“I could say the same about you,” Chloe replied, a sly curve to her lips. “I know you like seeing me flustered.”

Red’s breath hitched just slightly, her eyes darkening with amusement and something softer, more complicated. “Perhaps I do,” she admitted, voice husky, almost vulnerable despite her usual façade.

Chloe’s heartbeat quickened at the admission. She leaned just a little closer under the pretense of examining the dough, their faces mere inches apart. “And maybe I like seeing you… react,” she whispered, letting the words linger in the warm kitchen air.

Red swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, suddenly very aware of the closeness, the heat, the soft brush of Chloe’s hair against her cheek. She looked away for just a fraction, then back, trying to maintain her usual smirk, but it faltered. “You… you’re a nightmare,” she said, though the words lacked conviction.

Chloe laughed softly, a warm, melodic sound that filled the kitchen. “And yet, here you are. Still standing.”

Red’s smirk returned, but it was slow, cautious, tinged with a new softness. “Barely,” she murmured, moving her hand lightly to adjust Chloe’s posture, the excuse of correcting her technique thin at best.

The flour dusted their aprons and hands, the warmth of the oven behind them mixing with the heat building between the two of them. Chloe leaned back just enough to brush her shoulder lightly against Red’s, deliberately drawing a small reaction. Red’s hazel eyes flicked up, meeting Chloe’s brown ones with a mixture of exasperation and fascination.

“Chloe,” Red said, voice low and warning, “you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Chloe grinned, brushing a stray lock of Red’s hair behind her ear. “Yes,” she admitted, letting the brush linger slightly longer than necessary. “I want to see how far I can go.”

Red’s pulse quickened, her smirk fading into a softer, more distracted expression. She exhaled slowly, trying to regain control, but her hand lingered near Chloe’s, fingers brushing just enough to send sparks up her arm.

Chloe caught the hesitation, the subtle shift, and her grin widened. “Relax,” she whispered, leaning slightly closer. “I’m not going to bite… not yet.”

Red’s lips twitched into a smile, a dangerous mixture of amusement, frustration, and something she couldn’t name. “You’re… infuriating,” she said, though the word came out soft, husky, almost affectionate.

“And yet, somehow, you’re still here,” Chloe teased, letting her hand linger a moment longer on Red’s as she demonstrated a kneading motion, eyes never leaving her.

Red inhaled sharply, trying to focus on the task, but her eyes kept flicking back to Chloe, to the curve of her lips, the subtle tilt of her head, the warmth radiating from her in the small kitchen. She could feel herself faltering, slowly, deliberately, under Chloe’s control, yet not resisting entirely.

Chloe noticed, of course. Every twitch, every sharp inhale, every flick of the eyes was catalogued and appreciated. She leaned slightly closer, tilting her head, letting her hair brush against Red’s shoulder. “See?” she whispered softly. “You can’t hide it from me.”

Red’s chest rose sharply, and for the first time, she didn’t attempt to mask her fascination. “You’re… dangerous,” she breathed.

Chloe’s lips curved in a triumphant, teasing smile. “I told you,” she said softly. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Chapter Text

Red had not thought this through.

The loaf of bread felt heavier than it should have, warm still from the oven where she had insisted- half out of stubbornness, half out of pride- on baking it herself that morning. She balanced it carefully on one arm as she lingered outside Chloe Charming’s door, glaring at the carved wood as though it had personally wronged her.

She should turn back. She knew that. She should drop the bread off with a servant, or leave it on the table in the corridor, or better yet, eat it herself and spare them both the awkwardness of this encounter.

But for reasons she couldn’t quite name, Red stayed.

Her knuckles rapped against the door before she could stop herself.

There was a pause, a muffled sound from within, then footsteps. The latch clicked, and the door cracked open, revealing Chloe, still in a pale morning robe, her blue curls falling loose down her shoulders. She blinked at Red, confusion sparking first in her deep brown eyes, then suspicion.

“…Red?” she said, voice low and rough from sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Red held up the loaf stiffly, like a peace offering. “Brought you this.”

Chloe’s brow furrowed. “Bread.”

“Yes, bread.”

“…Why?”

Red shrugged, shifting her weight as though the answer were obvious. “Because you helped make it yesterday. Thought you might want some.”

Chloe stared at her for a long moment, then opened the door wider, reluctantly. “Fine. Come in, before someone sees you loitering like a thief.”

Red stepped inside, the room bathed in soft morning light filtering through gauzy curtains. Chloe’s quarters were warm and lived-in, a scattering of books on a table, parchment and quill abandoned near the bed, a half-finished sketch of something curling in the margins.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you liked staying busy,” Red said, eyeing the mess with a smirk.

Chloe scowled lightly, closing the door. “It’s called productivity. Something you might want to try sometime.”

Red ignored the jab, moving toward the table and placing the bread down carefully. The smell was rich and earthy, filling the room almost instantly. Chloe hovered behind her, arms folded.

“You baked this yourself?” she asked, skeptical.

Red arched a brow. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

Red leaned against the edge of the table, feigning ease she didn’t quite feel. “I’m capable of more than sarcasm, you know.”

Chloe moved closer, brushing her hair back from her face as she eyed the bread. “Barely.”

Red smirked, but it softened quickly. “Go on then. Try it. Make sure it’s edible.”

Chloe hesitated, then reached for a knife from the table, slicing into the loaf. The crust cracked, giving way to the soft, steaming center. She tore off a piece and brought it to her lips, chewing slowly.

Red watched, oddly tense.

Chloe swallowed, her expression unreadable. “It’s… good.”

Relief she hadn’t expected loosened Red’s chest. She laughed lightly. “Thank heavens. I’d hate to think all my effort ended in disaster.”

Chloe set the slice down, arching a brow. “Effort? You barely did anything yesterday. I carried us.”

Red stepped closer, smirk returning in full force. “Carried us? I seem to recall someone blushing when I corrected her kneading.”

Chloe’s cheeks flushed, and she turned quickly to slice another piece of bread. “You imagined that.”

“Did I?” Red’s voice lowered, teasing but quieter now, softer in the morning light.

Chloe handed her a slice abruptly. “Here. Eat your own bread.”

Red took it, brushing her fingers against Chloe’s in the exchange- whether by accident or design, she couldn’t even tell herself. She bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “Mm. Not bad,” she said around the mouthful, grinning when Chloe rolled her eyes.

For a while, they ate in silence, the only sounds the crack of crust and the occasional chirp of birds outside the window. The air between them shifted slowly, less combative, less sharp. There was something almost… domestic about it, and Red couldn’t shake the strange flutter in her chest.

“You didn’t have to bring this,” Chloe said finally, softer now, almost reluctant.

“I know,” Red admitted, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “But I wanted to.”

Chloe looked at her then, really looked, and for a second Red felt stripped bare under the weight of it. She shifted uncomfortably, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll regret ever knocking on your door.”

Chloe’s lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “Too late.”

Red exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the window where sunlight spilled across the floor. “It was easier when we hated each other, wasn’t it?”

Chloe tilted her head. “Do you not hate me anymore?”

Red’s laugh was low, humorless. “Depends on the hour.”

Chloe’s eyes softened, though she tried to mask it with sarcasm. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

They shared a look then, lingering, unguarded. Something fragile hummed in the quiet space between them, and Red had the sudden, disorienting urge to reach across the table, to touch her. Instead, she pushed the loaf closer.

“Take the rest,” she said, rising abruptly. “Consider it… a peace offering. Or breakfast. Whatever you prefer.”

Chloe watched her move toward the door, words catching in her throat. Just before Red’s hand touched the handle, she said softly, “Thank you.”

Red froze, glancing back. The sincerity in Chloe’s eyes was almost unbearable. She smirked faintly, though it wavered at the edges. “Don’t get used to it.”

And then she was gone, leaving Chloe staring at the bread on the table, her chest inexplicably tight.

Chapter Text

The door gave a long, groaning creak as Chloe pushed it open, and the scent of parchment and candle wax rolled out into the corridor. She slipped inside before she could second-guess herself, pulling the heavy oak closed behind her until the latch clicked into place. For a moment, the quiet was total- soothing, complete.

And then she saw her.

Red was sprawled across a velvet chair near the center of the room, her long legs dangling over one armrest, her back propped against the other, a thick book balanced open across her lap. Her fiery hair spilled in loose waves over her shoulder, catching the glow of the sconces like copper dipped in flame. She didn’t look like she belonged in a library; she looked like she had wandered in by mistake and refused to leave, claiming the place as her own.

Red’s eyes lifted lazily from the page, and the corner of her mouth curled. “Well, well. Princess Charming. Don’t tell me you’ve come here to study. You’ll ruin my image of you.”

Chloe’s grip tightened on the strap of the book she carried. She’d considered turning back the moment she spotted Red, but doing so now would be surrender. And she would not surrender. Not to her.

“I can read, you know,” Chloe said coolly, stepping further inside.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Red closed her book with a snap, sending a puff of dust into the lamplight. “I just doubt you enjoy it.”

Chloe ignored her, brushing her fingers along the bindings of the nearest shelf. The leather was warm under her touch, softened with age. She let herself focus on the textures, the muted colors of spines worn by generations of hands. She needed something to steady her, because Red’s gaze was already a weight pressing against her shoulders.

“And you?” Chloe asked over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding,” Red answered easily, swinging her legs down so she sat properly. “From my mother, mostly. From expectations. From people like you.”

Chloe turned, arching a brow. “People like me?”

“Perfect little princesses with perfect little smiles.” Red’s tone was light, but something flickered in her hazel eyes that didn’t quite match the words.

Chloe crossed the room and chose a chair opposite her. “If you hate perfection so much, perhaps you should stop staring at it.”

For once, Red didn’t immediately retort. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Chloe openly. “Touché.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the quiet pop of a candle guttering in its wax. Chloe forced her gaze down to the book in her lap, opening it to the first page, though the words swam. It was impossible to focus with Red’s eyes fixed so unrelentingly on her.

Finally, she snapped the book shut and met Red’s look head-on. “Do you always stare at people when they’re trying to read?”

“Only when they’re pretending,” Red said smoothly. “You haven’t turned a page in five minutes.”

Chloe felt heat crawl into her cheeks, infuriatingly obvious. “Perhaps I like to take my time.”

“Or perhaps you’re distracted.”

The words hung between them, not barbed this time but heavy, weighted. Chloe’s throat tightened. She wanted to throw something sharp back, something to cut through the sudden closeness curling in the air, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t, because Red was leaning closer, and Chloe could smell the faint trace of something sharp and sweet on her skin- wine, maybe, or just Red herself.

“You’re impossible,” Chloe muttered.

Red’s grin flickered. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Chloe turned away, desperate for escape, and pretended to study the shelves again. The titles blurred together. She reached for a random volume, more for something to do with her hands than out of interest. When she faced Red again, the other girl was still watching her with that infuriating, unreadable half-smile.

“What were you even reading?” Chloe demanded, nodding toward the book Red had abandoned.

“A history of Auradon.” Red lifted it slightly. “Dry as sand, but it passes the time.”

“Since when do you care about history?”

“Since I’m apparently destined to become part of it,” Red said lightly, but the words snagged in Chloe’s chest.

She moved before she thought, stepping closer to the chair where Red sat. Her hand brushed against the book as she pulled it from Red’s grip, their fingers grazing. The contact was brief, accidental- but her skin tingled where it had happened.

“Then maybe you should learn something useful,” Chloe said, setting the book down on the table between them.

“Oh?” Red leaned back, arms draping over the armrests, casual but not careless. “And what would you suggest, Princess?”

Chloe sat across from her, spine straight, trying to ignore the way Red’s eyes lingered on her as though cataloguing every movement. She opened the book, flipped through pages, but once again she couldn’t seem to focus. Not when Red was this close. Not when Red was looking at her like that.

Red shifted suddenly, standing. Chloe expected her to walk away, to end the moment before it could sharpen into something else- but instead Red circled the table, coming to stand beside her chair.

Chloe looked up, startled, just as Red reached down.

Without a word, Red brushed her fingers along Chloe’s cheek, tucking a loose strand of blue curls behind her ear. Her touch lingered, fingertips grazing Chloe’s skin a heartbeat too long to be casual.

Chloe froze, breath catching.

Red’s hazel eyes were locked on hers, and in them was something Chloe had never seen before- not mockery, not challenge, but something deeper, quieter, almost… tender. Her gaze flicked down, just briefly, to Chloe’s mouth.

And suddenly Chloe was aware of everything: the space between them, the thundering of her own pulse, the faint tremor in Red’s hand as it withdrew.

Her own eyes betrayed her, darting to Red’s lips before she could stop herself. The thought slammed into her chest like a blow: she wanted-

No. She shut it down, hard, snapping the book closed again as though the sound could shatter the fragile tension.

“You-” Her voice came out unsteady, so she cleared her throat. “You’re crazy.”

Red’s lips curved, but not in the sharp grin Chloe expected. This smile was softer, quieter, almost uncertain. “And you're still here... with me.”

Chloe looked away, forcing herself to gather the book and rise from her chair. She needed distance. She needed air.

But when she brushed past Red, her shoulder grazed against hers, and neither of them moved aside. Neither of them pulled away.

Chapter Text

Chloe’s hand hovered over the doorknob, knuckles white as she tried to summon the courage to leave. The library felt impossibly small, even though the shelves stretched high above her. She could sense Red behind her, a presence she couldn’t escape, the air thick with tension, heavy with unspoken energy. Each step toward the door was measured, hesitant, as if moving too quickly might shatter some fragile equilibrium.

Red didn’t move from her spot by the chair, yet she didn’t need to. The way she held herself- poised, deliberate, sharp- was enough to anchor Chloe in place. Her fiery red hair fell in loose waves that caught the light, each strand seeming to shimmer with its own energy. Her hazel eyes glinted as they tracked Chloe’s every movement. Chloe’s pulse picked up at the thought, a wild drum echoing in her ears.

“Hey,” Red said softly, her voice low, deliberate, carrying a warmth that Chloe hadn’t expected. It wasn’t teasing, not really; there was a tension beneath the words that set Chloe’s heart hammering.

“I-” Chloe started, then stopped. Words felt futile, inadequate. Her instinct was to flee, yet the magnetic pull from Red kept her rooted. She swallowed and tried again. “I… I should go.”

Red tilted her head, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. Her posture was casual, but the slight lean toward Chloe spoke volumes. The air between them buzzed, charged with something neither could fully name. “Should you?”

Chloe’s chest tightened. She wanted to step away, but her feet betrayed her, hesitating. The library seemed to close in around them, walls shrinking, air thickening. Her fingers brushed against the spine of the book in her hands, but even that tiny action did little to steady her nerves.

Red moved, just a fraction closer, the heat of her body brushing against Chloe’s in the smallest, most intimate way. It wasn’t enough to touch, yet enough to make Chloe acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat. Her pulse quickened. Red’s eyes held hers, unflinching, and Chloe felt herself caught in the gravity of that gaze.

Red’s hand lifted slowly, a subtle, almost imperceptible motion. She tucked a stray curl of Chloe’s blue hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering against the curve of her cheek. The touch was delicate, light, and utterly magnetic. Chloe’s stomach flipped. She felt every second stretch out, heavy with possibility.

Their eyes flickered to each other’s lips, the library falling away around them. Each exhale, each tiny shift of weight, carried more meaning than any words could. Chloe’s hands tightened on the book, but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t.

Red leaned in slightly, the faint brush of her breath against Chloe’s face making her shiver. Chloe’s chest pressed instinctively forward, drawn toward the heat, the scent, the nearness of Red. Her mind raced, heart hammering. Every instinct screamed to stop, yet another part of her body betrayed her, urging her closer.

"Red..." Chloe sighed, her hand reaching out to Red involuntarily.

The tension, thick and electric, filled every corner of the room. Red’s hand twitched, hovering near Chloe’s shoulder, her fingers quivering as if trying to bridge a gap that Chloe felt equally.

The tension hovered between them- an intangible, electric line that neither wanted to cross yet couldn’t ignore. Chloe felt it, the shift in the air, the unsteady rise and fall of Red’s chest, the flutter of her own heartbeat. Every small movement, every inhale, every glance carried meaning.

Then- a sound. A faint shuffle of feet from the hallway outside. Both girls flinched. Red’s hand retreated slightly, and Chloe stepped back, both startled by the intrusion yet acutely aware of how impossibly close they had been. Their eyes met, wide and flustered, breaths shallow and erratic.

Chloe tried to steady herself. “We… shouldn’t-” she whispered, though her voice quavered under the weight of the unspoken.

Red’s lips curved in a subtle, incredulous smile. “Shouldn’t what?” she murmured. Her gaze flickered again to Chloe’s mouth before snapping back up to her eyes, flushed, vulnerable.

The quiet stretched out, tense and electric. Chloe’s hands tightened around her book, knuckles white, yet she couldn’t bring herself to step away. Red mirrored her every slight movement, a taut synchrony neither of them had intended.

A second shuffle echoed faintly from the corridor, a reminder that the world beyond the library still existed. Chloe stepped back slightly, brushing past the edge of Red’s sleeve, and felt a jolt of heat shoot through her. Red’s eyes followed her movements, darkening, intense, and Chloe felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine.

Red shifted forward again, slower this time, almost teasing, almost dangerous. Chloe’s stomach twisted. She could feel the faint heat of Red’s lips, close enough that a single misstep could erase every boundary between them. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, pulse drumming in her ears.

Chloe’s breath hitched. “Red…” she tried to say, voice barely audible, caught somewhere between warning and pleading.

Red’s gaze dropped to her lips again, then up, as if measuring the impossible distance. Every second stretched impossibly long. Chloe could feel her own resolve wavering, drawn to the nearness, the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

A sudden flicker of movement in the doorway- another passing maid- made both flinch, stepping apart just slightly. The tension didn’t release; if anything, it coiled tighter, as if daring them to reach out, to risk it, to fall into the moment.

Red’s hand twitched near Chloe’s shoulder again, hovering, almost brushing, a question suspended in the space between them. Chloe felt the warmth of her body, smelled the sharp, intoxicating scent that was uniquely Red. The pull was magnetic, irresistible, dangerous.

Chloe swallowed, breath trembling. Her eyes flicked from Red’s gaze to her lips, and she felt the heat building in her chest, the pulse in her throat, the electric ache of proximity. Red’s eyes darkened, reflecting the same flush of desire, the same unspoken admission neither dared voice.

They moved in tiny increments, mirrored steps, breaths mingling, hearts racing. Chloe could feel the charged space between them shrink, the almost-kiss hovering, teasing, stretching time. The world beyond the library disappeared; only Red existed, taut and vibrant, inches away.

Chloe’s hand brushed against the edge of the table for balance, and Red’s fingers twitched, almost touching, almost colliding. The tension coiled tighter with every heartbeat, every small movement.

And then- another sound from the corridor. Chloe flinched, and Red’s gaze snapped up, flustered. Their faces were still inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts hammering in tandem. The almost-kiss remained suspended, electric, untouchable, leaving them both breathless, flushed, and acutely aware of the line they had danced along.

Chloe’s hand dropped, finally steadying herself against the doorframe. Red’s hand lingered near her shoulder, trembling, a promise of what might have been, yet restrained by the world outside.

Without another word, Chloe stepped back, breaking the spell with a reluctant, shaky breath. Red mirrored her, chest rising and falling rapidly, flushed, eyes dark and intense. They shared a look that said everything words couldn’t, a mixture of frustration, longing, and a dangerous, delicious tension that neither could deny.

Chloe opened the door fully, slipping into the hallway, but every step toward her room was heavy, laden with the memory of proximity, the heat of the almost-touch, and the lingering ache of what had nearly happened. Red followed a step behind, eyes never leaving her, a mirrored fluster that left neither of them entirely composed.

At the threshold of her chamber, Chloe paused, hand on the latch, heart still hammering. Red’s presence was a weight she couldn’t shake, a pull she didn’t want to. Chloe’s chest tightened as she realized, with startling clarity, that the line between loathing and desire had become perilously thin- and Red was standing on the other side, just as captivated, just as flustered.

Chloe stepped inside, closing the door slowly, glancing back to see Red lingering a heartbeat longer before retreating down the hall. Both girls were left with racing hearts and flushed faces.

Chapter Text

The castle had long since quieted. Footsteps no longer echoed in the corridors, and the torches had burned low, their flames crackling in hushed tones as if they too feared to disturb the stillness of night.

But Chloe could not sleep.

Her chamber might as well have been a cage, her own body restless and twitching beneath sheets that felt far too heavy. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, though her eyes didn’t truly see it. What she saw- over and over, unbidden- was Red.

That alcove. The stone pressed cold against her spine. The faintest brush of Red’s shoulder grazing her arm. And the way her breath- warm, sharp with the faint bite of wine- had ghosted across Chloe’s cheek.

Her lips parted unconsciously, as though that air lingered still.

She turned onto her side, restless, dragging the pillow close. But there was no comfort. Not when her mind kept replaying every second with unbearable clarity.

The flicker of torchlight as a guard passed, shadows spilling across Red’s face. The small gasp she herself had made when Red shoved her into hiding, her back colliding with stone. The heat of Red’s palm braced beside her head, so close she swore she could feel it radiating.

And then- the lean.

Chloe’s stomach clenched. Her toes curled under the sheets, a ripple of warmth rushing through her so quickly it frightened her.

Red had leaned in. Not in jest. Not in anger. Not as part of some game or quarrel. It was real. And it had been closer than Chloe had ever allowed anyone before.

Closer than she had ever wanted anyone before.

Her hand rose of its own accord, brushing over her cheek where a loose strand of her own hair had fallen earlier that night. Red had tucked it back. Red’s fingers had lingered, feather-light against her skin, and Chloe had been foolish enough to think she could hide the way her pulse had thundered at the contact.

She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling the shaky breath that escaped her. Her lips tingled, traitorous.

Because the truth was simple. If the maid hadn’t walked past, if Red hadn’t snapped out of it at the last second- she would have kissed her back.

She would have leaned forward and let it happen.

The thought both terrified and thrilled her. A contradiction pulling her apart. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering to the dark, “What’s happening to me…”

But no answer came. Only the echo of her own racing heart.

Across the castle, Red sat awake as well, her back pressed against the headboard, her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her blanket had slipped to the floor long ago, forgotten. The chamber was drenched in silver moonlight, and she felt as though she were drowning in it.

She had leaned in.

Gods, she had been so close.

Her chest tightened, heat flooding her at the memory. She could still see Chloe’s eyes- wide, startled, but not pulling away. Not resisting. If anything, she had leaned in too. That thought alone was enough to unravel her.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She buried her face in her knees for a moment, muffling a sound that was half a groan, half a plea.

“Why did I do that,” she whispered, voice low and rough.

But she knew why. Because Chloe had been there, pressed against the wall, blue hair framing her face, lips parted ever so slightly as though waiting. Because for once, Red hadn’t been able to think, hadn’t been able to cling to the discipline her mother demanded of her. Because something greater had pulled her forward- a raw, terrifying need.

Her hand drifted upward, fingers grazing her own lips. They still burned, as though the almost-kiss had left a mark. She tilted her head back against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut.

The memory refused to fade.

The way Chloe’s breath had hitched. The way her gaze had flicked down, unmistakable, toward Red’s mouth. The way her hands had fisted at her sides, as though she, too, was fighting not to move forward.

Red groaned again, running a hand through her fiery hair. She remembered every detail- the scratch of the stone wall under her palm, the warmth radiating from Chloe’s body just inches away, the faint lavender scent clinging to her hair. Even the smallest things refused to let go: the soft rustle of fabric when Chloe shifted, the faint catch of her throat when Red leaned closer.

It was agony. Agony because she wanted it to happen again. Wanted it more than she dared admit.

Her chest heaved, breaths shallow. “What the hell just happened,” she muttered to the empty room, voice thick with something she couldn’t name.

She let her knees fall apart, resting her elbows on them, burying her face in her hands. But it didn’t block out the memory. Nothing could.

All she could see, even in the darkness, was Chloe.

Chloe tossed again, the sheets tangling further around her legs. Her body burned with frustration, her mind unwilling to give her peace. She could still hear Red’s voice in her ear, low and husky when she whispered for her to stay quiet in the alcove. The sound had shivered through her, all command and something else she couldn’t untangle.

Her lips parted, and she whispered to the silence, “Why didn’t I stop her?”

She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the furious beat of her heart beneath her palm. Because she hadn’t wanted to. That was the simple, damning truth. She hadn’t wanted to stop her. She had wanted to see what it would be like, to feel what it would be like.

Her body trembled as she lay back, staring at the ceiling. She remembered the faint brush of Red’s hair tickling her temple when she leaned close. The shadow of her lashes. The way her lips had parted- so close, so unbearably close.

Her hand drifted unconsciously toward her own lips again, brushing lightly, testing. They still tingled. Still burned.

What if she had kissed me?

The thought stole the air from her lungs. Because Chloe knew, without a doubt, she wouldn’t have pushed her away.

Her eyes stung, though she wasn’t sure why. Confusion. Want. Fear. All of it tangled in her chest until she could hardly breathe.

She rolled onto her side once more, dragging the pillow close, whispering into it as though it could keep her secret safe: “What the hell just happened to us?”

Red lay back as well, though she found no rest. Her mind was a storm, but one thing was painfully clear.

If she closed her eyes, she could see it all again. Chloe’s face tilted up, moonlight catching in her blue hair, eyes wide but unflinching. The subtle tremble of her lips, parted as if waiting.

And her own body, traitor that it was, moving forward without hesitation.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fists curling in the sheets. “Damn it,” she breathed.

Her mother’s voice echoed faintly in her memory: Never falter. Never waver.

But she had. She had nearly fallen headlong into something that frightened her more than any sword or battlefield.

And worse- she wanted to fall again.

Red sat up suddenly, dragging her hands over her face. Sleep was gone. Peace was gone. All she had was the burning memory of almost.

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, her voice a whisper meant only for herself.

“What the hell did I just do… and why do I want to do it again?”

Both girls lay awake in their separate chambers, consumed by the same memory, their bodies restless, their hearts betraying them.

The castle was silent. But within that silence, two souls echoed the same thought, the same fear, the same longing.

What the hell just happened-

And what would happen if, next time, nothing stopped them?

Chapter Text

The battlefield stretched endless beneath Chloe’s feet, ash swirling in the air like snow. It should have been loud, chaotic, full of clashing swords and shouting men, yet silence reigned, heavy and absolute. The sky above was bruised, streaked with dark purples and grays, yet the faintest sliver of light broke through clouds in the distance. Chloe’s boots crunched over the broken ground, the weight of the shattered sword at her side reminding her of battles fought and battles lost, both real and imagined.

She moved forward, alert, the instinct for protection coiling within her as tightly as her chest. And then she saw her: Red. Standing just ahead, slender and radiant, hair catching the muted light like fire, eyes calm yet piercing. In the world of Chloe’s dream, Red was untouched by tension, free from the sharp edges of reality, and that alone drew Chloe closer.

Red turned, and their eyes met. No words passed, only a pulse of recognition, a silent understanding that seemed to echo across the empty battlefield. Chloe’s hand twitched almost without thought, reaching out. The moment was electric. Her fingers brushed against Red’s, tentative, testing, and Red’s hand closed around hers, warm, grounding, and steady.

Chloe’s pulse leapt as the contact lingered longer than she had expected. It was a handhold, yet it felt like a promise, a tether that connected them amidst the silence. The world around them seemed to shrink, the battlefield fading, leaving only the two of them and the quiet hum of something unspoken yet profound.

They moved in perfect synchrony, as if choreographed by some invisible force. Every step they took, every slight adjustment of posture, was in tandem. Chloe felt herself relaxing, the sword at her side suddenly insignificant. Here, beside Red, there was no need to fight, to guard, to prove herself. The protection she always demanded of herself could be shared; she could rely on Red, and perhaps- just perhaps- Red could rely on her.

Her eyes drifted to Red’s lips, then back to her eyes, then back again, and Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. Something unnamable pressed against her chest, a longing so fierce it made her limbs tremble. Red’s gaze held steady, patient, unwavering. The brush of their fingers was no longer just touch- it was a question and an answer, a silent confession neither had dared voice in the waking world.

Yet Chloe could not act. She wanted to, oh how she wanted to, but the dream held her in suspended tension, the unspoken impossible. Still, she lingered, allowing herself to feel the closeness, to memorize every detail- the warmth of Red’s hand, the tilt of her head, the slow, deep inhale of her chest. Even in sleep, even in a dream, it was a lesson in restraint and desire.

The battlefield began to blur, the colors fading into a soft gray. Chloe’s grip on Red’s hand tightened instinctively as if she could anchor herself to reality through this fleeting connection. The dream offered no resolution, no kiss, no words, only the undeniable pulse of longing, the electric tether of hearts silently acknowledging one another. And when the dream finally lifted, Chloe awoke with her fingers tingling as though the touch were still real, and her chest ached with a yearning she could not name.

Red’s dream pulled her into another world entirely. Gone was the battlefield, replaced by a sun-drenched meadow that stretched endlessly under a sky the color of morning light. Here, there was no armor, no expectations, no rigid duty to uphold. She stood barefoot on soft grass, feeling the earth beneath her toes, free in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Yet even in this freedom, her chest tightened at the familiar absence- her mother, always distant, watching from the edge of the meadow but never stepping closer. Every time Red advanced, the figure would dissolve into a haze of gold and shadow.

Then Chloe appeared, vibrant and alive, stepping lightly through the grass with a laughter that rang like music across the meadow. She extended a hand, and Red’s body ached to take it. Without hesitation, she grasped it, letting herself be pulled into the center of the meadow. The presence of Chloe was grounding, a stark contrast to the fading image of her mother. The girl’s touch, gentle and deliberate, sent warmth through Red’s chest. The oak tree ahead, towering and steadfast, seemed to embody permanence and strength, a symbol of the foundation Red had longed for but never found.

They sat beneath the tree, side by side, shoulders brushing lightly. The proximity made Red’s heart pound. In this dream, she was unguarded, vulnerable, unafraid of showing the desire she had so carefully buried in waking life. She turned slightly, letting her fingers graze a loose strand of Chloe’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. The movement lingered, brushing against Chloe’s cheek in a way that made her pulse catch. Both their breaths hitched, slow and synchronized, and for the first time, Red felt unashamed in her yearning.

She leaned just a fraction closer, and Chloe did not move away. The unspoken tension grew, a taut line strung between them, until Red dared to close the gap further. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, slow, and achingly intimate. No hurried motions, no desperation- only the weight of longing that had been simmering since their first encounters. It was a kiss that carried all the restraint of the past weeks and the sudden release of every emotion they had yet to admit to themselves.

Yet even as the kiss deepened, the edges of the dream shimmered, and for a moment Red caught sight of her mother, a faint figure at the periphery. The awareness pricked at her heart, a reminder of the love and approval she had always craved but never received. In that instant, the feelings merged- Chloe’s closeness and the void left by her mother. They were one and the same, and the ache of both was unbearable, yet simultaneously comforting. The dream blurred, folding into itself until only the warmth of Chloe’s presence remained, leaving Red suspended in a profound, quiet happiness she had never known.

Morning light, when it arrived, was sharp and unwelcome. Both girls awoke in their separate chambers, hearts still hammering from the intensity of their dreams. Red pressed a trembling hand to her lips, tracing the phantom sensation of Chloe’s touch that lingered as if the dream had been real. Her chest tightened, and she let out a low breath, almost a groan, as though to release the weight of longing pressed into her very bones.

Chloe, meanwhile, lay still, staring at the ceiling, replaying the battlefield dream in fragments- the handhold, the silent understanding, the almost kiss that had been denied but still burned vivid in memory. Her cheeks tingled, and she pressed her palms to her face, trying to convince herself it was only a dream. Yet the ache of wanting, of desire, of closeness, refused to dissipate.

In that silence, both girls whispered each other’s names into the empty chambers: Red, Chloe. The sound was barely audible, yet it carried across the castle as if even the walls knew the truth that their hearts dared not yet speak aloud.

They had crossed a threshold in the darkness, a boundary unmarked but unmistakable. Desire, longing, trust- they had all crept into the space between them during the quiet hours of night. And now, even as they lay apart, the weight of what had been admitted in dreams pressed upon them, undeniable and transformative.

Neither wanted to move, for movement would break the lingering magic of their nocturnal confessions. Each heartbeat was a reminder of the other’s presence, even in absence. And for the first time, both Chloe and Red understood, with a clarity that frightened and thrilled them, that they were no longer simply betrothed strangers forced together by fate- they were something far more dangerous and consuming: two hearts aware of one another’s deepest desires, tethered invisibly yet irrevocably.

The morning came and went, the castle’s life stirring around them, yet neither could forget. Every glance, every shadowed movement through the halls, carried with it a memory of that quiet intimacy, that almost-perfect closeness, and the dreams that had given them what reality still denied. Their hearts, restless and pounding, whispered a promise that neither dared yet voice, but that both understood in every fleeting, stolen thought.

And in the quiet spaces between duty and expectation, both Chloe and Red realized, with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, that they had tasted something they could no longer unsee- or unknowingly, unfeel.

Chapter Text

Red sat perched on the edge of her chaise, her fingers absently tracing the embroidered trim of the cushion. The morning sunlight crept in through the tall windows of her chambers, glinting off the golden fixtures and throwing long, deliberate shadows across the polished floor. Her thoughts, however, were far from the elegance of the room. They were tangled, restless, circling around an impending presence she hadn’t expected, though perhaps had unconsciously anticipated for years.

The Queen of Hearts entered without knocking, her heels clicking sharply on the stone floor, each step carrying the authority that had earned her the kingdom’s fear and respect. Red didn’t flinch, didn’t need to. Her mother’s presence had always demanded attention, and today, that attention was heavier than usual.

“Red,” the Queen began, her tone deliberate, measured. “I have news. Your father will be visiting soon.”

Red froze mid-motion, her hand hovering above the cushion. Her breath caught in her throat. The words seemed so simple, so brief, but they carried a weight she hadn’t felt in years. Her father. The man she had barely known, who had abandoned her and her mother, now intended to appear at their doorstep.

“Father?” she echoed, her voice uncertain, teetering between disbelief and cautious excitement. She had not heard from him since she was a child- his presence had been little more than a shadow in her memories, a name whispered with frustration and longing. The very idea of seeing him again stirred something she hadn’t expected to feel: curiosity. A small, fluttering hope.

The Queen’s gaze was sharp, unwavering. “Yes. He has expressed interest in visiting. To… catch up on everything that has been happening in your life recently. I presume you understand the nature of his intentions.”

Red swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She did understand- or thought she did. The King of Hearts had never been a man known for generosity of spirit or warmth of heart. Selfish, cruel, indifferent to her or her mother’s needs. Yet now, he came when she was betrothed to one of Auradon’s wealthiest daughters, when the potential alliances and prestige were at their peak. A calculated visit, no doubt, masked as paternal interest.

Red’s chest tightened with conflicting emotions. Part of her, buried beneath years of disappointment and neglect, was thrilled. She wanted, at some level, to be seen by him, to be acknowledged. Another part of her recoiled, wary and wary of the manipulation she sensed lurking beneath his polite words.

“Mother,” she began cautiously, “do you… do you think-”

“Think what?” The Queen’s voice was sharp, almost amused, yet layered with caution.

“Do you think he actually… cares?" Red’s question was quiet, almost afraid of the answer, though she suspected it would confirm her worst instincts.

The Queen’s expression softened slightly, an imperceptible shift that only Red would notice. “He cares for what he can gain, Red. Not for you, not for me. He has always been selfish. This visit is no different. But you-” she paused, letting the words hang in the air, “-you may choose how to handle it.”

Red exhaled slowly, a mixture of relief and frustration. Relief that she hadn’t been entirely blind to his motives, frustration that she had even hoped he might have changed. Her mother’s calm acceptance of the situation, of the inevitability of his presence, only added to the tension in her chest. She wanted to be excited. She wanted to imagine a reunion, a moment of connection lost to time. But she also wanted to protect herself from disappointment, to shield herself from the manipulation she knew would inevitably follow.

She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of her thoughts settle. Her mind, despite the warnings and her mother’s careful words, wandered to the possibilities. A conversation. A smile. A flicker of recognition in his eyes. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might remember her as she remembered him.

But then, as quickly as the thought arrived, it was replaced by the familiar ache of reality. The King of Hearts had not visited because he had missed her. He had come because there was something to gain, something in this alliance that suited his own interests. Red’s stomach twisted with anger and frustration, a bitter taste that she refused to let show outwardly.

She rose from her chaise, smoothing the front of her gown, trying to appear composed even as her mind raced. There was a part of her that wanted to prepare, to rehearse, to anticipate his questions and maneuver through the visit with the precision she had learned from years under her mother’s watchful eye. But another part of her, the part that longed for something genuine, something uncalculated, a fleeting warmth she hadn’t felt in years, bristled against the notion entirely.

Red moved to the window and gazed out, her eyes following the quiet movements of the castle gardens below. Her thoughts drifted involuntarily to Chloe. The memory of the last few days- the quiet talks, the lingering touches, the almost-kiss- warmed her chest, even in the shadow of the looming visit. Chloe had become an anchor she hadn’t realized she needed, a steady presence that made the idea of her father’s arrival both more urgent and more confounding. How could she present herself, poised and perfect, when Chloe had already unraveled so many of her carefully constructed walls?

Her fingers brushed against the window frame, tracing the grooves in the wood. The sunlight glinted off her mother’s jewelry in the hall, reminding Red of the balance of power, the constant vigilance required in her life. And yet, she felt something new stirring: a desire to confront the situation not just with caution, but with intention. If her father was to arrive, she would meet him on her own terms. She would not be merely a daughter waiting for approval or manipulation; she would be Red, daughter of the Queen of Hearts, and someone who had learned the weight of her own power.

The Queen’s voice broke her reverie. “I expect you to conduct yourself with the poise befitting your station. There will be no outbursts, no foolishness. Your father’s presence is as much a test as it is an inconvenience.”

Red turned, letting a small, almost imperceptible smirk curve her lips. “Of course, Mother. I can manage a man who only remembers me when there’s profit to be gained.”

The Queen’s sharp eyes softened ever so slightly, approving yet warning. “See that you do. Remember, Red, appearances matter. Not for him, but for yourself.”

Red’s chest tightened again, but this time with determination rather than uncertainty. She had grown accustomed to her father’s absence, to the sting of neglect, to the invisible chains of expectation. She would not be cowed. And yet, beneath that defiance, a flicker of the old excitement remained- the faint, stubborn hope that she might glimpse the father she had once imagined, even if only for a moment.

Alone again, Red moved to her writing desk, sitting carefully and opening a blank sheet of parchment. Her pen hovered over the paper, and she began to write, not to send, but to untangle the storm of her thoughts. Words came slowly, measured, as if the act of writing itself could give shape to the whirlwind in her chest.

Father… will you remember me? Will you even see me for who I am now?

The question lingered, unanswered, a fragile thing that floated in the sunlight. She put the pen down and rested her head in her hands, feeling the familiar knot of expectation and anticipation coil tighter in her chest. In a few days, she would face him, would hear his voice, see his eyes, feel the weight of his presence. And she would be ready.

But even as she thought this, her mind wandered again, inevitably, to Chloe. To the warmth of her hand, the way her lips had almost touched hers, the quiet strength in her voice that had become a refuge. Red exhaled, half laugh, half groan, knowing that no matter what her father’s arrival might bring, her thoughts would always drift back to the girl who had quietly and irrevocably captured her heart.

She stood, smoothing her gown once more, and walked slowly to the window, looking out over the castle grounds. A shiver of anticipation ran through her, not just for the arrival of a man who had long ignored her, but for the challenge of maintaining her composure, of navigating the complexities of family, expectation, and the ever-growing, undeniable pull toward someone entirely unexpected.

Red’s fingers tightened around the window ledge, and she allowed herself a single, private smile. Let him come, she thought. I am ready. And I will not be anyone’s pawn- not now, not ever.

Yet beneath that bravado, the tiny ember of excitement remained, fragile but persistent. Seeing her father again, after so many years, would be difficult. But in the quiet of her chambers, she realized something else too: she was no longer alone. Chloe’s presence, even in memory and dream, had changed her. And for the first time, Red allowed herself to hope that she could face her father- and the world- with more than just fire and cunning. She could face it with desire, with vulnerability, and perhaps even… with love.

Chapter Text

Red stood by the shelves, her fingers grazing the spines of the leather-bound books in absent-minded motion. She hadn’t truly been reading. The library, usually a sanctuary, was only partially comforting today. Her thoughts churned in a restless swirl- her father was coming. A part of her felt that flutter of excitement she hadn’t felt in years, but beneath that, a tighter, gnawing thread of anxiety wound around her chest. What would it mean to see him again? After all this time? To see a man who had been more absent than present, yet still carried the title of King of Hearts, arriving with eyes that expected something from her simply because of who she was to become?

The quiet of the room was broken by soft footsteps. Red’s attention snapped toward the source, and there she was- Chloe, holding a small book close to her chest, her deep brown eyes immediately finding Red’s. Even in this moment, Red felt a strange sense of grounding just seeing her. Chloe’s presence was steady, calming, somehow anchoring her more than any physical object in the room ever could.

“You here again?” Chloe’s voice was gentle, yet carried a teasing lilt. “Do you ever leave?”

Red arched a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the tightness in her chest. “I could ask the same of you,” she replied, leaning lightly against the shelf, careful to appear casual. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way Chloe’s curls caught the sunlight, how the soft blue hue seemed almost ethereal.

Chloe stepped closer, placing the book down on a table, her fingers brushing the polished wood lightly as if to anchor herself as well. “You seem tense,” she said, voice gentle, eyes sharp with perceptive warmth.

Red exhaled, forcing a laugh that came out tighter than intended. “I’m fine,” she said, though her chest felt heavy, her thoughts tangled. “Just… thinking.”

Chloe didn’t say anything further, but she didn’t retreat either. She stepped fully into Red’s space, just close enough that Red could feel the warmth radiating from her, the faint scent of her perfume lingering softly in the air. Her hand brushed lightly against Red’s, an almost casual contact- but enough to send a small ripple of calm through Red. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” Chloe said, softly. “If you’re nervous… or feeling anything at all, you can tell me.”

Red’s gaze fell to their hands, noting the warmth of Chloe’s touch and the subtle grounding it provided. It was startling how much she relied on it. “I… I’m meeting my father today,” she admitted quietly, her voice low, almost hesitant. “It’s been years. I don’t know what to expect.”

Chloe’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she didn’t step away. Instead, she placed her other hand lightly over Red’s, fingers pressing in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Red… I’m happy for you,” she said. “Even if it’s complicated.”

Red’s lips curved into a small, forced smile. “Pretend happy, maybe,” she muttered. “Inside… I’m all sorts of things. Excited, nervous… uneasy. I’m not sure which one dominates yet.”

Chloe’s hands stayed where they were, a subtle support that anchored Red in the moment. “That’s okay,” she murmured. “Feeling all of it is normal.”

Red’s chest tightened with an unexpected surge of gratitude. The room felt smaller suddenly, more intimate, and the weight of Chloe’s touch made her heart quicken. She wanted to linger, to speak, but the words she longed to say- how much Chloe had become her center of calm- stayed stuck in her throat.

Chloe’s voice dropped slightly, hesitantly, almost a whisper. “Red… I… I have something to tell you. Last night, I-” Her words faltered, her breath catching, and her gaze fell to their intertwined hands, finding comfort in the warmth there. Her cheeks flushed lightly as she realized how long her fingers had been holding Red’s, grounding them both in a delicate, unspoken support.

The sharp, insistent ringing of the castle doorbell cut through the quiet library. Both girls froze, a pulse of surprise and tension rushing through the room. Red’s chest tightened again, nerves surging.

“That’s… him,” Red whispered, barely audible. Her fingers instinctively twined more firmly with Chloe’s, seeking that grounding comfort. Chloe’s eyes widened, realization dawning, and she instinctively moved closer, pressing a hand gently against Red’s arm to steady her.

Red’s lips pressed into a thin line, conflicted. She wanted to linger, to extend these moments, but the doorbell rang again, louder and more insistent, demanding attention. She exhaled sharply, a mix of nerves and anticipation tightening her chest. “I should go,” she murmured, reluctantly letting go of Chloe’s hand.

Chloe stepped back slightly, giving Red the necessary space but keeping her eyes fixed on her. “I suppose I’ll let you handle this,” she said softly, but the warmth and subtle encouragement in her gaze betrayed the underlying support.

Red’s mind raced as she moved toward the door, each step measured, deliberate, trying to cultivate composure. Yet every step was heavy, laden with the pull of lingering feelings- comfort, nervousness, and the quiet realization of how much she valued Chloe’s presence.

One last glance back caught Chloe’s eyes, steady and warm. Red’s heart fluttered in response, a brief, quiet moment suspended between them. She took a final breath, steeling herself for the encounter awaiting beyond the door.

The bell rang again, insistent, echoing in the vast hall. Red’s hand hovered over the latch. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and whispered softly to herself, “It’s time.”

Then, with a final, lingering look at Chloe, she opened the door. The sound of the bell rang once more, resonating through the halls and through her chest, leaving her suspended on the edge of anticipation, heart racing, the library door framing her retreat from this moment of quiet intimacy- and the threshold to whatever was coming next.

Once Red had slipped out of view, Chloe's fists balled at her sides. Her jaw tensed in frustration, "God, Im such a coward..." she sighed.

Chapter Text

The dining hall was alive with polished formality, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain echoing faintly against the high ceilings. Candles flickered along the long table, casting a warm glow over the gathered royals. Red kept her posture perfect, her hands folded neatly in her lap, yet beneath the smooth exterior her chest tightened with anticipation.

Chloe followed silently, carrying herself with the same careful attention to etiquette. The quiet of her presence was grounding, even amid the grandeur and pressure of the dinner. Red’s father had not yet acknowledged her existence, and the sight of him across the hall- broad-shouldered, imposing, eyes sharp and calculating- was enough to make her stomach twist.

Red led Chloe to their assigned seats. They were side by side, just far enough from the King to give Red a semblance of space, yet close enough that Chloe’s presence was a comforting anchor. Red’s mother, the Queen of Hearts, sat with practiced elegance, a neutral mask on her face that hid whatever thoughts were bubbling beneath. Across from her, the King of Hearts finally took his place, next to Red’s mother, and the tension in the room became almost tangible.

Red swallowed lightly and inclined her head toward Chloe. “Chloe, this is… my father,” she said, her voice steady, though her fingers fidgeted just slightly against her napkin.

The King’s eyes flicked to Chloe, sharp, calculating. “Ah, the Charming girl,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “Red tells me you’re quite the capable one.” His gaze lingered on Chloe, assessing, weighing. Chloe offered a polite nod, careful, keeping her expression neutral while still attentive.

Red’s chest tightened as she studied her father. Every movement, every glance, seemed laden with an unspoken expectation. Even this polite conversation carried an edge- an assessment, a weighing of worth and potential benefit. Red’s mind flickered to childhood memories, shadowed glimpses of moments where her father’s presence was a tool of obligation rather than affection. She realized how deeply she had learned to mask her disappointment behind charm and poise. Chloe, of course, did not yet understand the depths of it, but Red sensed her curiosity, the way her eyes flicked from her to the King with a quiet observance.

The two queens began polite conversation with the King, laughter light, their words calculated to sound engaged. Red caught snippets: inquiries into his recent travels, questions about the political landscape, and the occasional faintly sharp remark masked with a jocular tone. The ease with which they conversed- coordinated, practiced, almost theatrical- was in sharp contrast to the taut, cautious energy Red felt from her father.

Red took a measured breath as the King leaned slightly toward her mother, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “So, how’s my little princess?” he said, his voice laced with faux amusement. “Still managing to keep up with all these… rigorous lessons? Or has she finally decided that perhaps royal duty isn’t her style?”

The words were coated in jest, but Red felt the sharp edge behind them. Her chest tightened; the forced humor did nothing to mask the sting. Chloe, seated beside her, noticed immediately. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips pressing into a thin line as she observed the subtle tension in Red’s posture. The way her fingers gripped the edge of the table, the slight flush creeping up her neck, the fleeting shadow of hurt in her eyes- it all spoke louder than the polite mask she wore.

Chloe’s protective instincts flared quietly. She had seen taunts before, but never from someone’s own father, masked with humor yet cutting all the same. Red’s composure was impeccable, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable. Chloe’s hand brushed lightly against Red’s thigh under the table, a subtle grounding, a silent support.

The King’s smirk widened, oblivious- or perhaps willfully ignorant- of the way his words brushed against Red’s restraint. “I suppose if anyone else had her stubbornness, they’d be entirely unmanageable by now,” he continued, voice lilting, sarcastic, a laugh threaded through the comment. “Lucky for us all, she seems to tolerate us anyway.”

Chloe could feel her hands clench into fists beneath the table. She couldn’t believe someone could be so casually cruel to their own child, wrapping the insult in comedy and polite laughter. Her eyes flicked to Red, who had a forced smile in place, the slightest twitch of tension betraying her calm exterior. Chloe felt heat rush to her cheeks.

Before Red could respond, Chloe straightened, her voice firm but controlled, cutting through the polite hum of conversation. “Sir,” she said, the words deliberate, measured, yet sharp, “I don’t believe that’s an acceptable way to speak to anyone- let alone your own daughter.”

The table went quiet. Even the queens paused mid-sentence, a flicker of surprise crossing their composed faces. Red’s head turned slightly toward Chloe, her hazel eyes wide, a mix of shock and something warmer, something grateful.

The King’s eyes narrowed, a faint glimmer of irritation crossing his features. “And who are you to lecture me on civility?” he asked, voice edged, trying to reclaim authority.

Chloe’s posture didn’t waver. She met his gaze steadily, calm but unyielding. “I’m someone who refuses to let my friend, my future partner, be spoken to like that,” she said, voice quiet enough to keep decorum, yet sharp enough to convey her point. “Red deserves respect. She doesn’t deserve to be mocked, even in jest.”

The King blinked, clearly unprepared for such directness. Red’s chest swelled with a mixture of relief, pride, and embarrassment at Chloe’s boldness. She could feel the subtle shift, the tightening in her chest loosening just enough to breathe. Chloe’s hand found hers beneath the table, fingers intertwining briefly in a grounding gesture, the silent reassurance more effective than words.

Red’s mother gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod, an acknowledgment of Chloe’s courage and of Red’s quiet endurance. The King, after a long pause, leaned back, a faint huff of amusement- or perhaps reluctant respect-escaping him. “Very well,” he said finally, voice tighter but controlled. “I suppose I should tread carefully, then.”

Red exhaled, barely noticing, letting herself relax fractionally. She turned her gaze to Chloe, whose calm, steady presence had become an unexpected anchor in the turbulent room. Their fingers lingered together beneath the table, a quiet reminder that they were no longer navigating these pressures alone.

For the rest of the meal, the conversation proceeded more cautiously, though the undertones of tension remained. Red found herself glancing at Chloe frequently, marveling at the way she had naturally stepped into a protective role, offering comfort without overshadowing her. Chloe’s presence, subtle and steady, made the dining hall feel less like a battlefield and more like a space where Red could breathe- even if only slightly.

The King made small talk with the queens, attempting to regain the jovial composure of earlier, but the sharp edges remained in his glances toward Red. Red’s smile was more authentic now, though her chest still carried the weight of long-suppressed emotions. Chloe, ever perceptive, noted each subtle shift, each flash of vulnerability masked by etiquette, and the protective warmth she felt toward Red deepened quietly.

By the time dessert was served, Red allowed herself a faint, small sigh, her hands brushing lightly against Chloe’s under the table, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude. Chloe returned the gesture with a subtle squeeze, a quiet affirmation of shared understanding and support.

The meal ended, and the guests began to rise, yet the memory of the King’s words lingered, sharp edges softened only slightly by Chloe’s quiet courage. Red followed her father’s lead outward, but her mind clung to the warmth of Chloe’s hand, the grounding, protective presence that had reminded her that she wasn’t alone in facing the complex, sometimes painful, dynamics of her family.

Chapter Text

The grand dining hall still smelled faintly of roasted meats and spiced wine when the gathering drew to a close. Servants whisked away platters of sugared fruit and silver goblets dulled by fingerprints, leaving the long table bare and gleaming under the chandelier’s glow. Red’s father had laughed at his own cruel jest, dismissing his daughter as though she were nothing more than an amusing footnote in his story.

Red hadn’t risen to the bait. She never did. She simply sat, chin slightly lowered, shoulders taut as iron, and let the laughter roll past her like a wave determined to drown. Chloe had felt every ripple of that sting. Her hand had brushed against Red’s under the table- just a subtle touch, grounding her, though Red didn’t so much as look up.

Now, as the party drifted into the adjoining salon, Chloe stayed close.

The salon was dimmer, more intimate. Velvet curtains drawn against the night, gilded sconces glowing low. A fire snapped in the hearth, its light gilding the elaborate crown molding. Here, the evening changed in nature. No longer ceremonial- this was quieter, more dangerous, a room where true tempers might surface.

Red sank onto a low-backed settee, posture perfect but her silence heavy. Chloe hovered beside her, perched carefully on the edge, her fingers curling against her skirt as though resisting the urge to reach for Red’s hand again. The two queens sat together across the room, their voices polite but measured, while the King of Hearts poured himself another glass of dark wine, swirling it idly as though it might offer answers he hadn’t asked for.

The Queen of Hearts’ gaze followed the motion, sharp as a blade. “I wonder,” she said suddenly, her voice velvet lined with steel, “why it is you feel compelled to make sport of your own daughter.”

The King’s hand stilled, the wine trembling against the glass. He looked over, his expression feigning surprise, as though she’d misunderstood. “It was nothing. A jest. You take everything so seriously.”

“A jest,” the Queen repeated. She leaned back in her chair, but her presence seemed to fill the room regardless. “At your child’s expense. Tell me, does humiliating her bring you some satisfaction?”

Chloe’s breath caught. The words sliced the air clean in two. She glanced at Red, expecting her to flinch, but Red’s face was a mask- only her knuckles, pale against the fabric of her dress, betrayed the tension underneath.

The King forced a laugh. “You exaggerate, as always. It was harmless. She knows how I am.”

“She knows you are cruel,” the Queen replied evenly. No rise in her voice, no loss of control- simply fact, laid bare.

Chloe’s pulse quickened. She’d never seen Red’s mother quite like this. Cold, commanding, the kind of presence that made even a king hesitate. Chloe suddenly understood why people spoke of the Queen of Hearts with reverence and dread in the same breath.

The King shifted, his smile thinning. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I was the one who allowed her to be raised here in comfort. In power.”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed, gleaming. “Allowed?” The word hissed through her lips, quiet as it was lethal. “She is mine, not yours to grant or deny. And I will not sit idly by while you tarnish her name in her own court.”

The fire crackled loudly in the silence that followed. Chloe thought she saw it then- the faintest flicker of unease in the King’s eyes. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. Even when they had shared a crown, he had despised how little sway he truly held over her. That old imbalance of power had not vanished; it pressed now against his ribs, suffocating.

Chloe’s hand found Red’s at last, fingers lacing tightly, offering a steadiness Red didn’t ask for but didn’t reject either. Chloe felt the faint tremor in her palm and her own chest tightened. She could hardly fathom it- parents who wielded words like daggers, who mocked their children without care. It was so far from the tender warmth of her own family that she felt disoriented, almost dizzy.

Red sat straighter, not once looking at either parent, but Chloe could sense the war inside her- the shame, the anger, the quiet, stubborn pride that kept her from breaking. Chloe held her hand firmer, silently telling her: I see you. You’re not alone.

The King drained his glass and set it down harder than he meant to, the sharp clink betraying his irritation. “You’ve grown no less insufferable, even with years apart. Always looking for a reason to scold, to belittle. Perhaps that’s where she gets it from.” He gestured loosely toward Red, the insult tossed out like a stone into still water.

Chloe’s mouth opened before she could stop herself, indignation surging hot through her veins. But the Queen’s voice cut in first, sharper, louder.

“You will not speak of her that way again.”

The fire snapped. The room went silent.

The King leaned back, sneering, but Chloe saw it- the subtle twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the armrest of his chair. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but the truth was written across him: he found her terrifying. He always had.

Red finally moved, her hand squeezing Chloe’s just briefly before slipping free, as though to reclaim her composure. She rose. “I think this evening has gone on long enough.” Her voice was steady, but Chloe knew better.

The King scoffed but said nothing more, reaching instead for the wine. The Queen of Hearts remained seated, watching him with that quiet, merciless gaze until Red turned and walked toward the door. Chloe followed close behind, sparing one last glance over her shoulder.

The King pretended indifference, but the Queen sat with her chin lifted, regal and cold, her silence louder than any scream.

Chloe trailed after Red down the long, echoing corridor, their footsteps swallowed by the hush of the castle. Neither spoke. Not yet. But Chloe’s heart was loud inside her chest, every beat echoing the same thought: How could anyone treat her this way?

When they reached the threshold of Red’s chamber, Chloe reached out, her fingertips brushing the back of Red’s hand again. Red hesitated, then let it linger for just a moment.

Chapter Text

The corridors of the Hearts’ wing seemed to stretch on forever, every flicker of torchlight casting long shadows that followed them like watchful eyes. Chloe kept pace beside Red, though the silence between them felt louder than any echo. After what had happened at dinner- after the King’s callous laughter, his sharp words, the brittle silence that had followed- Chloe’s chest still burned with indignation. But more than that, it ached for Red.

Red’s face was unreadable, her chin tilted upward in practiced poise, but Chloe had been watching her too closely these past weeks to miss the tension. The way her shoulders were rigid with control, her fingers flexing against the folds of her gown. She was holding herself together by sheer force of will.

When they finally reached Red’s chamber, the air seemed to shift. The heavy oak doors closed with a muted thud, cutting off the castle’s endless hum, and the space settled into stillness broken only by the low crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Chloe stood by the door, suddenly unsure of herself. She wanted to reach out, to say something comforting, but words felt inadequate. What could she possibly offer someone who had endured that kind of humiliation at the hands of her own father?

Red crossed to the vanity, unfastening the clasp of her necklace with steady fingers. The firelight danced across her profile, painting her in gold and shadow, and Chloe saw the faintest tremor in her movements. Red set the necklace down carefully, as though the fragile control of her entire being depended on such deliberate precision.

“Red…” Chloe said softly, her voice barely carrying over the crackle of the fire.

Red froze, her back still to her. For a heartbeat, she didn’t turn, and Chloe thought she might not answer at all. But then, slowly, she pivoted to face her.

Her eyes were different now. Stripped of the defiant confidence she so often wore, they looked darker, glassier, touched by a vulnerability Chloe had never seen there before. It made her chest tighten.

Chloe hesitated only a moment before crossing the room, her skirts whispering over the rug. She lifted a hand and placed it gently on Red’s arm, the contact feather-light yet grounding. She felt Red’s breath stutter beneath her touch.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Chloe said, the words coming out more fervent than she intended. “Not from him. Not from anyone.”

Red blinked, her lips parting as if to respond, but no sound came. Instead, her gaze locked on Chloe’s, unflinching and raw, as though she wanted to believe her but couldn’t quite allow herself to.

The silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid.

Chloe’s hand slid down, finding Red’s fingers, lacing them together. The warmth of her skin startled her, so real, so present. She gave a soft squeeze, thumb brushing across the back of Red’s hand. “It matters,” she whispered. “You matter.”

Red inhaled sharply, then exhaled, her shoulders sagging as though Chloe’s words had punctured something inside her. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, pulling Chloe with her, as if she needed the tether of touch to keep from crumbling.

Chloe sat close- closer than she’d ever dared before- close enough to feel the steady but uneven rise and fall of Red’s chest, to catch the faint scent of roses lingering in her hair. Their hands stayed entwined, neither letting go.

For a long moment, they sat like that. Red stared into the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes, her face carved in shadow and light. Chloe couldn’t look away. She wanted to memorize her like this, fragile yet unbroken, the façade slipping enough to let her true self bleed through.

“It doesn’t matter,” Red said at last, though her voice was thin, brittle. “He’s always been that way.”

Chloe turned to face her more fully, her free hand lifting to gently brush a loose strand of hair from Red’s cheek. Her fingers lingered there, grazing the soft curve of her skin. “It matters to me,” she murmured again, firmer this time. “I don’t care what he thinks. I see you, Red. And you’re so much more than the things he said tonight.”

Red’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, her lips parting in the faintest tremor. When she opened them again, their gazes locked, deep and unflinching. For a moment, Chloe thought the air itself had shifted, as though the world outside these walls had gone still.

Her heart thudded. She wanted to say more- about the dream that had haunted her, about how Red had been on her mind without pause, about the way her chest felt full to bursting whenever they were near- but the words tangled in her throat.

So instead, she squeezed Red’s hand tighter, grounding her. Letting the silence speak where words failed.

Minutes passed like that, quiet but heavy. Eventually, Chloe began to rise, her voice hushed. “I should let you rest. It’s been a long day.”

But before she could take a step, Red’s grip tightened.

“Chloe…”

Her name was fragile on Red’s tongue, almost breaking. Chloe turned back, startled, and saw her staring up at her with eyes she barely recognized- pleading, vulnerable, stripped bare.

Her voice came soft, trembling, as though dragged from a place she’d never dared to reveal:

“Stay… please?”

Chloe’s heart clenched. Something in her melted, fierce and protective all at once. She sank back down without a word, her hand never leaving Red’s.

For the first time that night, Red’s shoulders eased. Not much, but enough. Enough to tell Chloe that her presence mattered- that maybe, in this fractured world of crowns and cruelty, she was something Red could lean on.

The hours slipped by in silence, the fire burning low. Neither girl spoke much, but they didn’t need to. Their bodies did the speaking- the way their hands stayed intertwined, how Chloe’s shoulder brushed Red’s as they sat side by side on the bed, how their breaths slowly fell into rhythm.

At some point, Red leaned back against the pillows, exhausted despite herself. Chloe followed, shifting so they lay side by side, still facing each other.

The closeness made Chloe’s pulse stutter. Red’s face was only inches away, the firelight catching on the soft curve of her lips, the sweep of her lashes. Their hands remained linked between them, a silent vow.

For a while, they simply stared at each other. Chloe’s mind raced with everything unspoken, but her heart felt strangely calm, as though this- just this- was enough.

Red broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t seen him in years. Not since I was little.”

Chloe’s breath caught. She squeezed her hand. “And you wanted tonight to be different.”

Red gave a faint, humorless laugh. “I don’t know what I wanted. Maybe… a father. Just once.” Her eyes shone in the dim light, and Chloe had to fight the urge to trace the line of her cheek with her fingers again.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Chloe whispered fiercely. “Not the daughter you’ve become. Not the person you are.”

Red’s lips curved faintly- not quite a smile, but close. She shifted closer, their foreheads nearly touching now, the air between them charged.

Neither moved away.

Chloe’s breath trembled, her gaze dropping briefly to Red’s mouth before darting back up to her eyes. Red noticed; Chloe knew she did, because she saw the same flicker in her expression, the same unspoken longing.

Neither spoke. Neither dared.

Eventually, fatigue tugged at them, heavy and insistent. Red’s hand slackened in Chloe’s but didn’t let go, and Chloe let her eyes close, still facing her.

For the first time that night, Red looked peaceful.

And Chloe knew, as sleep pulled her under, that she would stay as long as Red needed her.

When morning light seeped through the curtains, it found them still side by side on the bed, hands intertwined, their breaths steady and quiet.

Neither would remember who drifted off first. Neither would speak, yet, of the closeness that had carried them through the night. But both would feel it- the shift, the undeniable bond that had only grown deeper.

And for Red, waking with Chloe still at her side, the ache of the night before felt just a little less unbearable.

Chapter Text

The first thing Red felt was warmth.

It was rare, this sensation- her chambers were often too vast, too cold, too lifeless, even with the heavy canopy draped above her bed. But this morning, there was a soft heat at her side, steady and grounding, as though someone had pressed a flame close enough to chase away the chill without burning her.

Her lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, she didn’t move. The light filtering through the curtains painted the room in pale gold, muted and hazy, like the world had decided to slow just for her. Her head ached faintly from the heaviness of last night, but she barely noticed.

Because Chloe was there.

Lying on her side, facing her, her features softened by sleep. Blue hair fanned over the pillow like ink spilled across parchment, strands falling into her face. Her lips were parted slightly, her breaths slow, even. And her hand- her hand was still in Red’s, their fingers tangled as though neither had let go, even in sleep.

Red froze, afraid that any movement might break the spell. She could hardly believe it was real, that Chloe- sharp-tongued, stubborn Chloe- had fallen asleep beside her, had stayed when she asked. That her presence hadn’t been a dream conjured by desperation.

Her heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs. She told herself it was because she hadn’t woken like this since she was a child- since the days when she used to crawl into her mother’s bed after a nightmare, before she learned that weakness had no place in the court of Hearts. But even as she clung to that excuse, she knew it wasn’t the truth.

Because it wasn’t just anyone lying beside her.

Her gaze wandered helplessly over Chloe’s face- the curve of her cheek, the faint shadow of her lashes against her skin, the soft pink of her lips. Too soft. Too close.

Red’s breath caught. She remembered the way Chloe had looked at her last night, the way her touch had lingered, grounding her when she might have fallen apart. She remembered the sound of her voice when she whispered, Stay… please.

Her fingers twitched against Chloe’s, tightening ever so slightly. Chloe didn’t stir.

She should move. She should let go. She should sit up, wash her face, summon the mask she always wore. But her body refused to listen, rooted by the pull of something unnamed and terrifyingly strong.

Instead, she shifted just enough to brush a stray lock of blue hair away from Chloe’s face. Her hand hovered, lingering near her cheek, but she didn’t dare touch. Her throat tightened at the thought, at how badly she wanted to.

The silence pressed in, broken only by Chloe’s soft breathing. Red felt suddenly foolish for staring so long, for letting her thoughts spiral into places she couldn’t name aloud. But just as she began to draw back, Chloe stirred.

Her lashes fluttered, her hand tightening faintly around Red’s as though to anchor her. Then her eyes opened, unfocused at first, before settling on Red’s face.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Chloe blinked, her voice rough with sleep. “You’re awake.”

Red swallowed, forcing a composure she didn’t feel. “Apparently so.”

Her words came out steadier than the rush of blood in her ears.

Chloe shifted onto her back with a soft sigh, her hand still tangled in Red’s. “How long have you been staring at me?”

Heat crept up Red’s neck, though she managed a scoff. “I wasn’t staring.”

Chloe turned her head toward her, lips curving faintly. “You were.”

Red huffed, but couldn’t find a retort. Not when Chloe’s smile- sleepy, unguarded- made her chest ache in ways she didn’t understand.

Silence followed, but it was different from last night. Not heavy, not suffocating. Lighter, almost fragile, as though the air itself knew they were treading new ground.

Red sat up slowly, pulling her hand free with reluctance. She reached for the goblet of water on her bedside table, using the motion as an excuse to look anywhere but at Chloe.

But then Chloe sat up too, closer now, her shoulder brushing Red’s. “Thank you,” she murmured suddenly.

Red glanced at her, startled. “For what?”

“For trusting me enough to let me stay.” Her voice was soft but steady, her gaze fixed on Red’s face.

Red’s throat tightened again. She wanted to shrug it off, to say it meant nothing, that it had been weakness, desperation. But the words died on her tongue.

Instead, she whispered, “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Chloe’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, Red thought she might reach out again, might cup her cheek the way Red had almost done earlier. The air between them thickened with the possibility.

But Chloe only shifted slightly, her hand brushing against Red’s on the coverlet. Not quite a touch, but close enough that Red felt the phantom of it.

The moment stretched, unspoken things swirling between them.

Red swallowed hard, pulling her mask back into place with effort. She stood, smoothing her gown, moving toward the vanity as though the distance might steady her racing heart. “We should… get ready. For the day.”

Chloe watched her quietly, still sitting on the bed. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes lingered a moment longer than they should have.

And Red, catching the reflection in the mirror, felt the echo of it in her chest.

Chapter Text

The breakfast room was hushed, a stillness before the household began to stir in earnest. Only two places had been set at the long table, close together by the windows. A basket of fresh bread sat between them, its warmth still lifting tendrils of steam. Fruit glistened in cut crystal bowls; honey caught the light like amber fire.

Red poured tea for them both, the gentle clink of porcelain steadying her hands. When she passed Chloe her cup, their fingers brushed. The contact lingered longer than necessary- Chloe didn’t draw back immediately, and Red’s breath caught in her throat.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, voice quiet, but her eyes held Red’s with a gravity that made her chest tighten.

They ate slowly, not out of hunger but because the silence between them carried a kind of weight. Chloe finally broke it, her tone careful.

“How are you feeling? After… everything?”

Red fiddled with her spoon, tracing the rim of her plate. “Better than I expected,” she said softly. “It helps… not to be alone.”

The truth slipped free before she could stop it.

Chloe’s expression softened. She reached across the table, her fingers covering Red’s lightly. “You’re not alone,” she said.

The words landed with such quiet conviction that Red felt herself trembling inside. She wanted to entwine their hands, to let her grip say the things her tongue feared. But she held still, though her heart ached.

“Thank you,” Red whispered.

The rest of the meal passed in that fragile rhythm, between silence and stolen glances, between small touches and words left unsaid. Red found herself noticing everything: the curve of Chloe’s smile, the thoughtful way she buttered her bread, the light that made her hair glow like spun sunlight.

When at last their plates were cleared and the pot of tea stood half-drained, Chloe leaned back in her chair, her eyes watchful. She studied Red for a long moment before speaking again.

“You’ve carried enough of your father’s shadow,” she said gently. “You need something brighter today.”

Red blinked at her. “Brighter?”

Chloe’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

They slipped out of the castle through the side passage, Chloe leading the way with surprising certainty, as though she’d mapped every stone in her mind. Red followed, her curiosity stirring despite the heaviness that clung to her.

The air outside was sharp with morning chill, though the sun was already burning away the mist. They crossed the gardens, skirts brushing against damp grass, and soon the stables came into view: sturdy stone walls mottled with ivy, wide doors flung open to the air.

Red stopped short. “The stables?”

“Yes.” Chloe turned back to her, smiling faintly. “Horses have a way of steadying me. I thought maybe they might steady you too.”

The admission was so simple, so thoughtful, that Red felt her throat tighten. “Chloe…”

“No protests.” Chloe reached for her hand, entwining their fingers this time without hesitation. “Come on.”

The touch sent a rush of warmth up Red’s arm, her pulse stumbling as Chloe tugged her gently inside.

The scent enveloped them immediately: hay, earth, warm hide. Horses shifted in their stalls, their eyes gleaming dark in the filtered light. The air carried a hum of life- soft snorts, the shuffle of hooves against straw, the creak of wooden beams.

Chloe’s face lit with wonder. “It smells like home,” she murmured, running her free hand along a polished stall door.

Red tilted her head. “Home?”

“My family kept stables,” Chloe said softly. “Not as grand as these, but… I grew up with the sound of hooves. I used to sneak out just to sit with them when I couldn’t sleep.”

Red’s chest softened. She pictured a younger Chloe slipping through shadows, curling up against a warm flank in the dark. The image ached with tenderness.

They walked slowly through the rows, Red greeting each horse with quiet reverence. She stopped at a tall chestnut mare who leaned her head over the door curiously.

“What’s her name?” Red asked.

“He.. is called Arden,” Red said, moving closer. “He was my mother’s gift when I turned thirteen.”

“He's beautiful,” Red whispered, reaching to stroke the stallion's nose. Arden nuzzled her palm with approval, making Red laugh- a light, delighted sound that washed over Chloe like sunlight after storm.

“You see?” Chloe turned to her, eyes bright. “Already you’re smiling.”

Red startled, realizing her lips had curved without thought. She hadn’t smiled so freely since yesterday morning, before her father’s shadow returned to her world. And it was Chloe who drew it out of her, effortlessly, simply by being here.

They fed the horses together afterward, carrying small buckets of oats down the line of stalls. Red nearly spilled hers when one overeager gelding nudged her shoulder with his massive head.

“See?” Red said breathlessly, laughing in spite of herself. “They are trying to kill me.”

Chloe leaned on the stall door, watching her with quiet amusement. “I think he just likes you. You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”

Red narrowed her eyes at her, though her lips curved despite her effort to hide it. “Don’t you dare tell anyone that.”

Chloe pressed her hand to her chest solemnly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The words weren’t meant to carry weight, but they did. They lingered, trailing behind them as they finished their work in silence.

Later, Chloe guided her toward the small arena attached to the stable. The mare was already saddled, standing steady in the center.

“You’re not serious,” Red said, eyes widening.

“Of course I am.” Chloe smiled faintly. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

“I’ll fall off and die.”

“You won’t. Not while I’m with you.”

The words were said casually, but they landed heavy, as though Chloe meant more than she dared admit.

Before Red could argue again, Chloe was already holding out her hand. “Trust me.”

There it was again- that word. Red hesitated, then slowly placed her hand in Chloe’s. It was warm, steady, grounding.

Chloe guided her to the stirrup, steadying her waist as Red clumsily swung her leg over. Red wobbled in the saddle, a startled gasp leaving her lips.

“You’re fine,” Chloe reassured quickly, hand still firm at her side. “I’ve got you.”

The words seemed to anchor Red more than the reins did. She exhaled shakily, then adjusted her grip.

“You look good up there,” Chloe said before she could stop herself.

Red glanced down at her sharply, cheeks tinged pink. “You’re teasing me.”

“Not this time.”

Chloe mounted behind her in one smooth motion, sliding into place so naturally Red froze at the closeness. Chloe’s chest brushed her back, her arms circling to cover Red’s hands on the reins.

“See? You’re not alone,” Chloe whispered, her breath brushing her ear.

The mare began to move, and Red let out a startled laugh, half-fright, half-joy.

“That’s it,” Chloe murmured, her voice low and steady. “Lean with her. Trust her rhythm.”

Gradually, Red did. The fear bled into something else- exhilaration, lightness. She laughed again, freer this time, and Chloe felt something shift in her chest at the sound.

They rode in slow circles, Chloe guiding but letting Red find her own balance. Time blurred into rhythm: hooves against dirt, the rise and fall of the mare’s gait, their bodies pressed close, breaths mingling.

At one point, Red turned her head slightly, their eyes catching over her shoulder.

“Chloe,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“I… I like this.”

Chloe’s lips curved softly. “Me too.”

When they finally slowed to a stop, Chloe swung down easily, then turned to help Red dismount. She placed her hands at Red’s waist again, steady and sure.

“Alright,” Chloe said gently. “Swing your leg- yes, just like that.”

Red did, but when her foot touched the ground, she stumbled slightly, momentum pulling her forward. Chloe caught her instantly.

Their bodies collided softly, close enough that Chloe could feel the rapid beat of Red’s heart against her chest.

For a moment, neither moved.

Red’s eyes flicked up to hers, wide and uncertain, but she didn’t step back. Chloe’s hand lingered at her waist, the warmth seeping through the thin fabric.

Then Chloe reached up slowly, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind Red’s ear. Her fingers trailed along her cheek, lingering there, soft and deliberate.

Red’s breath hitched. Her gaze dropped- unmistakably- to Chloe’s lips.

Chloe’s chest tightened, her own eyes drawn downward without thought, without choice.

The space between them shrank until it felt fragile, electric, a heartbeat away from breaking entirely.

And then the stallion snorted loudly behind them, jolting the spell.

Red stepped back at once, cheeks burning, clearing her throat as though it could erase the weight of the moment. Chloe let her hand fall, though her fingers tingled where they’d touched.

“Thank you,” Red said quietly, her voice unsteady.

Chloe swallowed, forcing herself to smile faintly. “Always.”

The word carried more promise than she meant to give away. And yet, she didn’t regret it.

They walked back toward the castle side by side, neither speaking. The silence wasn’t awkward- not anymore. It was full, brimming, heavy with everything unsaid.

Chapter Text

Chloe stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the strap of her dress for what felt like the hundredth time. The fabric was soft, flowing, a pale cream that clung lightly to her curves. She liked it enough—but what she really wanted was to be anywhere but at another royal ball.

Red leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a small, mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “You’re overthinking it,” she said casually.

Chloe shot her a look. “Oh, am I? I’d say you’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready.”

“I insist,” Red replied, tilting her head. “Consider it repayment for the stables yesterday. I had fun, you had fun… so this is my way of saying thanks. Besides, it’s no fun letting seamstresses do everything when I can actually help you.”

Chloe’s lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile despite herself. “Fine. But don’t mess this up.”

Red sauntered over, letting her fingers brush lightly along Chloe’s arm in a gesture that was casual, but not really casual. Chloe felt it immediately, her chest tightening. She swallowed, turning back to the mirror to mask her reaction.

“First, your hair,” Red said, kneeling in front of her. “We’ll keep it simple but elegant. I swear I can do more than braid a rope into your curls.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Red grinned, tugging a strand of Chloe’s blue hair into her fingers and carefully twisting it into a loose braid. She worked slowly, deliberately, letting each motion linger, giving Chloe every opportunity to notice how close they were. Chloe could feel Red’s breath occasionally tickle her ear, the warmth of her fingers on her scalp sending small shivers down her spine.

“See?” Red murmured, glancing up. “Not bad, right?”

Chloe caught the smirk and rolled her eyes. “Not bad? You just started, and my hair looks like… like a tangled crown.”

“You’re impossible,” Red said, laughing softly.

Chloe’s chest warmed at the sound, and she tried to keep her expression neutral as Red continued, weaving the braid into a loose, elegant style that framed her face perfectly.

Once the hair was settled, Red stood, offering her hand to help Chloe turn. “Your dress. Let’s make sure it’s perfect. I’ll fix the straps and smooth it out.”

Chloe allowed her to adjust the fabric, noting how Red’s fingers lingered on her shoulders and back slightly longer than necessary. The brush of skin against skin was enough to make her pulse skip.

“You’re being awfully touchy,” Chloe murmured.

Red raised a brow, mischievous. “Touchy? I’m helping. That’s what helpers do.”

Chloe snorted but didn’t argue. She let Red fuss over her dress, her hair, the final details, all the while feeling a mix of annoyance and something else—something softer, warmer, and entirely unspoken.

Red leaned back to inspect her work, eyes scanning Chloe from head to toe. “Perfection,” she declared finally. “Honestly, it’s criminal how good you look.”

Chloe’s cheeks heated. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“Maybe not,” Red said, stepping closer. “But it makes me enjoy the view while I help.”

Chloe swallowed, resisting the urge to step away, though part of her wanted to lean closer. The air between them was thick, buzzing with an energy neither could ignore.

Once the dress and hair were done, Red knelt again, this time adjusting the delicate straps of Chloe’s shoes. “Careful with these,” she murmured, her fingers brushing Chloe’s ankle in a way that lingered just long enough to be noticed.

Chloe’s knees weakened slightly at the contact. “Red…” she began, but the words faltered as Red’s eyes met hers- soft, amused, teasing.

“You’ll thank me later,” Red said, her voice low.

Chloe shivered slightly, unsure if it was the words or the nearness.

Red rose again, straightening. “Now, jewelry. Nothing too flashy. Just… subtle elegance.” She picked up a simple silver necklace and clasped it around Chloe’s neck. Her fingers brushed the skin at the base of her throat, and Chloe’s breath hitched.

Red’s gaze flicked to Chloe’s lips, a small smirk playing there. “Careful, Charming. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Chloe’s eyes met hers, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. She had no words for it, and for once, didn’t try to speak. The silence said enough.

After a final once-over, Red stepped back. “There. Ready.”

Chloe turned, looking at her reflection. She looked… radiant. But more than that, the effort Red had put in- the attention, the closeness, the lingering touches- it meant something. Chloe’s heart beat a little faster than it should have.

Red crossed her arms again, leaning against the dresser, smirking. “You look… devastating.”

Chloe snorted. “That’s just mean.”

Red shrugged, a playful gleam in her hazel eyes. “Maybe. But also true.”

Chloe rolled her eyes but allowed herself a small, reluctant smile. “Alright, thanks. I guess you didn’t do a terrible job.”

Red winked. “I’ll take it. Compliments from you are rare and precious.”

Chloe felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Stop saying things like that.”

Red chuckled, letting the tension settle between them. It was quiet, intimate, comfortable in a way the two of them were still learning to navigate. Their hands brushed as they moved around the room, arranging their things for the ball, and neither pulled away.

“C’mon,” Red said softly after a moment. “Let’s go down together.”

Chloe nodded, smiling faintly. She slipped her hand into Red’s briefly, a subtle acknowledgment that neither could ignore how close they were, how much they had grown comfortable with each other in just a few hours.

Red’s hand lingered, firm yet gentle, as they walked toward the dining hall. Chloe felt the warmth spread from her palm through her chest, and for a moment, the world outside- the upcoming ball, Red’s father, the looming expectations- faded away.

“You know,” Red murmured quietly, leaning slightly closer as they walked, “I’m glad I got to do this with you. I mean… the stables, today… it was perfect.”

Chloe’s eyes met hers. “It really was.”

Red’s smirk softened into something else entirely- something vulnerable, almost shy. “Even if the rest of today might not be so perfect,” she added quietly.

Chloe didn’t respond with words. Instead, she squeezed Red’s hand gently, letting her eyes convey what she couldn’t say: that she was there, that she understood, that she’d be by her side, no matter what came next.

And as they stepped toward the hall, side by side, the quiet intimacy of the morning lingered around them like a shield against the world outside.

Chapter Text

The ballroom pulsed with light and movement. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead, dripping gold onto the marble floor where noblewomen spun in shimmering gowns and noblemen paraded with calculated elegance. The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. A world rehearsed to perfection, every smile painted, every step choreographed.

Red entered with Chloe beside her.

Their shoulders brushed as they stepped into the glittering chaos, the hush of whispers following them like a tide. Red straightened her spine, her chin lifted in practiced poise, though her stomach knotted at the sight of her father at the high table. Already he had a goblet in hand, his smirk smug even from across the room.

Chloe noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyes, sharp and searching, flicked toward Red as they threaded through the crowd.

“Do you ever get used to it?” Chloe murmured, leaning just close enough that her words threaded into Red’s ear like a secret.

Red kept her gaze forward. “To what?”

“All this,” Chloe said softly, with a flick of her hand toward the sea of painted nobles, the chandeliers, the watchful eyes.

Red’s lips curved bitterly. “You don’t get used to it. You endure it.”

They moved deeper into the throng, exchanging nods and false smiles. Red’s mask stayed firmly in place, but she felt Chloe’s presence steadying her like an anchor. Without it, she might have suffocated under the weight of expectation.

When the orchestra shifted into a waltz- grander, more deliberate- Red felt Chloe’s hand brush hers. She turned, startled, and found Chloe watching her with a calm, unreadable expression.

“Dance with me,” Chloe said.

The words were simple, yet they made Red’s heart falter.

“Now?” she asked, her voice caught between surprise and protest.

“Unless you’d rather one of them ask you.” Chloe’s tone was teasing, but her eyes lingered with an intensity that rooted Red in place.

Heat rose to her cheeks. With a feigned sigh, Red placed her hand in Chloe’s. “Fine. But if I trip, I’ll blame you.”

“You won’t,” Chloe murmured as she led her toward the center of the floor. “Not with me.”

The violins swelled, and Chloe’s hand slid to Red’s waist. The touch was steady, confident, yet gentler than Red expected. Their other hands clasped, Chloe’s grip both firm and careful, grounding.

Red tried to match the rhythm, but her steps were stiff, her pulse a frantic beat in her ears. She felt every gaze, every whisper, every ounce of judgment searing her from the edges of the floor. Her father’s eyes weighed heaviest of all.

“Relax,” Chloe whispered, her lips brushing close enough that Red caught the warmth of her breath. “It’s only me.”

Red exhaled. Something in her chest loosened. And suddenly, the room blurred.

The chandeliers, the nobles, the watchful stares- all melted away. All that remained was Chloe.

They moved as one, step after step, the waltz weaving them together. The brush of silk against Chloe’s leg, the firm yet delicate pressure of her hand at Red’s waist, the strength in her hold that never once wavered.

Red’s breath hitched. She glanced up, only to find Chloe already looking at her. Their gazes locked, and the world narrowed to that single point of connection.

A turn, a glide, and Red’s skirts swirled about them. Chloe drew her closer, their movements precise, yet each second thick with something unspoken. Red could feel it in the lingering of Chloe’s hand, in the soft curl of her fingers, in the way Chloe’s eyes dropped- just for a heartbeat- toward her lips.

Red’s chest tightened.

She wanted- oh, she wanted-

But before she could lean into the pull, before she could drown in it, a drunken laugh cleaved through the air.

“Look at that!”

Her father’s voice cut the music in two.

The dancers faltered, the orchestra wavered, but the King of Hearts, goblet in hand, raised his voice for all to hear.

“My daughter finally manages not to stumble over her feet! A miracle!”

A ripple of forced laughter spread among the nobles.

Red’s chest went cold. Her grip on Chloe’s hand trembled, but Chloe only held her firmer.

“Red,” Chloe whispered, low and urgent. “Don’t-”

But he went on, grinning as though cruelty were comedy. “Hardly the graceful little princess, is she? Took her long enough to learn. Always was a slow one.”

The laughter sharpened.

And something inside Red snapped.

“Enough!”

The word cracked through the ballroom, louder than the orchestra, louder than the laughter, leaving silence in its wake. Every head turned, every noble stared.

Her father blinked, his smirk faltering into a scoff.

Red’s voice shook but did not waver. “I will not be spoken to like that. Not by you. Not anymore.”

A murmur rippled across the room, scandal blooming in every whisper.

Her father leaned back, smirking again, but Red didn’t wait. She tore her hand from Chloe’s and stormed out of the ballroom, fury and shame burning hot in her chest.

“Red!” Chloe called, abandoning everything- the nobles, the whispers, the stares- and followed.

Red’s hands trembled where they clenched at her skirts. She paced the corridor like a storm contained in too narrow a space, every step sharp, every breath ragged. The walls, hung with gilded tapestries, seemed to close in on her. The muffled music and laughter of the ballroom mocked her through the doors, a world that would never understand.

“He humiliates me,” she spat, her voice low, cracking under the weight of it. “Always. Every chance he gets. He doesn’t even see me- he never has.”

Her fists struck her sides, her breath breaking apart. She turned sharply, pacing back the other way, and Chloe stayed where she was- steady, still- watching.

“Why did he even come?” Red’s voice cracked now, higher, raw. “He doesn’t care, he never cared. He just wants-” She stopped, breath hitching, her throat too tight. “He just wants to use me.”

The last words came out broken, as though dragged from some wound too deep to hide.

Chloe stepped forward. She didn’t announce it, didn’t ask permission. She simply moved until the distance was gone, until Red was forced to stop pacing or collide with her.

“Red,” Chloe said softly.

Red lifted her head. Her eyes were wet, though she blinked furiously, as though denying it could undo the betrayal burning in her chest. She looked at Chloe with that same fire, but beneath it, something trembled- small, fragile, desperate.

“I hate him,” Red whispered. “I hate him for making me feel like I’m nothing. For always- always making me believe I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice wavered, thinned, then finally broke. “I can’t keep-”

She didn’t finish.

Because the storm gave out.

Her breath collapsed into a sob, and her body lurched forward. Chloe caught her instantly, arms folding tight around her as though she had been waiting for this moment.

Red clutched at Chloe’s shoulders, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her gown with desperate strength. The sound she made was small, muffled against Chloe’s shoulder, but it carried years of ache, years of silence finally shattering.

Chloe’s hold tightened. One hand pressed between Red’s shoulder blades, firm and grounding; the other slid up, fingers threading into the loosened strands of red hair, smoothing them back with steady strokes.

“It’s all right,” Chloe murmured, though she knew it wasn’t. Her voice was low, steady, as she bent her head close to Red’s ear. “You don’t have to be strong right now. Not with me.”

Red’s body shook in her arms. She tried to stifle it, to swallow the sobs back down, but Chloe only held her tighter, as though daring her to let it out.

And Red did.

The sobs came, uneven and harsh, her chest heaving against Chloe’s. Each one seemed to tear something loose, something long buried. Years of anger. Years of neglect. Years of wanting to be seen, to be loved, to be more than a burden in her father’s eyes.

Chloe said nothing more. She didn’t need to. She simply held her.

The corridor, once heavy with Red’s fury, now softened with the quiet rhythm of her grief. The music from the ballroom blurred into the distance, muffled by stone and velvet. Time seemed to still, the world shrinking to the tight embrace between them.

At last, Red’s sobs began to slow. Her grip on Chloe’s gown eased, though she didn’t pull away. She remained close, her forehead pressed to Chloe’s shoulder, her breath ragged and warm against her neck.

Chloe’s hand lingered in her hair, smoothing it back again, softer now. “You don’t have to face him alone,” she whispered.

Red’s reply was a broken breath, barely words: “I don’t know if I can face him at all.”

Chloe’s chest ached at the admission, but she only tightened her embrace, pressing her cheek to Red’s temple. “Then don’t. Not tonight. Tonight, just stay here. With me.”

Red’s sobs racked through her chest, muffled against Chloe’s shoulder. She hated that she couldn’t stop, hated the weakness in it- but she couldn’t seem to hold it in any longer.

Chloe only held her tighter. “It’s not weakness,” she murmured against Red’s hair, as though she’d heard the thought. “It’s surviving. You’ve carried so much on your own- too much. No one could bear it forever.”

The words, quiet and steady, pierced straight through Red. Her breath caught. Her grip on Chloe’s gown tightened until her knuckles whitened. She tried to swallow the tears back, but Chloe tipped her head slightly, her lips brushing against Red’s temple in a gesture so gentle it undid her completely.

Something in her chest cracked wide open.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, Red lifted her head- and her mouth was on Chloe’s.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was hot, desperate, everything she’d been holding back for years burning through her all at once. Her lips pressed hard, trembling, as though she could pour all of her anger, her grief, her craving to be seen into that one frantic touch.

Chloe stiffened at the suddenness of it- startled, breath caught. For half a heartbeat, she froze.

Then the taste of Red’s need hit her like fire, and she yielded.

Her hands, once steady on Red’s back, shifted- one tangling in her hair, the other gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She kissed back, not soft but with a force that matched Red’s urgency, her own long-buried yearning snapping free. “Red…” Chloe sighed, leaning into her.

The corridor seemed to tilt around them. The distant music, the murmurs of the ballroom, even the sting of Red’s father’s words- all of it vanished. There was only the heat between them, mouths meeting with a hunger neither had dared voice until now.

Red’s fingers slid up Chloe’s arms, clutching at her shoulders as though afraid she might disappear if she let go. A choked sound escaped her, half-sob, half-gasp, breaking against Chloe’s lips.

Chloe answered with a low, involuntary sound of her own, her chest pressing into Red’s as though the space between them were unbearable.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t polished. Their kiss was messy, uneven, all teeth and trembling lips and gasps caught in the dark. But it was real.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Red’s eyes were wet, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as though she couldn’t quite believe what she’d done.

Chloe stared at her, chest heaving, her own lips tingling. For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Chloe’s hand, still tangled in Red’s hair, softened, thumb brushing against her damp cheek. “Red…” she whispered, voice low, almost reverent.

Red blinked, breath catching. “I- I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t,” Chloe interrupted, firm but quiet. She held her gaze, steady and unwavering. “Don’t you dare apologise.”

Red swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel small. She didn’t feel unwanted. She felt seen-burning, raw, alive- in Chloe’s arms.

Red’s chest heaved as though she’d just run for miles, though she hadn’t moved an inch. Her lips burned, her whole body trembling in Chloe’s hold.

She wanted to step back, to catch her breath, to say something- anything- but her muscles wouldn’t obey. It was as if her body knew what her mind hadn’t yet caught up to: she didn’t want distance. She wanted more.

Their foreheads brushed as they hovered in the fragile silence, breath mingling, uneven. Chloe’s hand slid from Red’s hair to cradle her jaw, thumb stroking lightly against her damp cheek.

“Red,” Chloe breathed again, but softer this time, almost like a plea.

The sound of her name on Chloe’s lips nearly undid her. Her eyes fluttered closed, a small, shuddering exhale escaping her. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Red whispered, her voice raw.

Chloe tilted her head, their foreheads pressing more firmly together. “You don’t have to,” she said. “Not right now.”

Her voice was steady, grounding, but her touch betrayed her. Her hand shook faintly against Red’s skin, betraying nerves, the same wildfire racing in her veins.

Red dared to open her eyes again. Chloe’s were right there- brown, wide, searching. Their gaze locked, and Red swore the world narrowed to that exact point: Chloe’s pupils blown wide, her lips still flushed from the kiss, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers.

Something fragile and powerful bloomed between them.

Red’s hands, which had been clenched tight on Chloe’s shoulders, loosened. Tentatively, she slid one down, over the line of her arm, until her fingers found Chloe’s hand. She grasped it, weaving their fingers together, grounding herself in the contact.

Chloe’s breath hitched but she didn’t pull away. Her grip tightened, sure and warm, anchoring them both.

They stood like that, bound together, hearts pounding so loud Red thought the sound might give them away if anyone passed.

Finally, Red’s voice cracked the silence, barely audible. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”

Chloe swallowed hard, her thumb still stroking Red’s cheek as though she couldn’t stop. Her lips parted, the faintest smile tugging at them despite the tension in her expression. “Neither have I.”

The admission sent a shock through Red, sharp and sweet. She wanted to kiss her again, to drown in it, but fear still tangled with the longing. Fear of her father’s words echoing in her head. Fear of the court’s eyes. Fear of what this meant.

But Chloe was still holding her. Still here.

Red leaned into her touch, eyes closing again, letting herself rest for just a moment in the safety of Chloe’s arms.

The muffled music from the ballroom carried faintly through the walls, a reminder of the world waiting just beyond them. Nobles, parents, duty- all of it pressing in. But here, in the corridor, it felt suspended. Just the two of them, cocooned in a fragile, stolen moment.

Chloe lowered her forehead to press more fully against Red’s, her free hand slipping to the back of Red’s neck, steadying her. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, almost too soft to hear, “you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

Red’s breath hitched. She hadn’t realised until now just how much she’d needed to hear that.

She clung to Chloe’s hand, squeezing it as though it were the only thing tethering her to the earth.

For a long, suspended moment, they didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just held each other, caught between the heat of what had just happened and the heavy knowledge that nothing between them would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

Chloe’s back hit the door with a thud.

The movement was bold, unhesitant, and Chloe froze for the briefest second before letting her body respond.

Red’s lips found hers with a force that stole the breath from both of them. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t gentle- it was raw, urgent, the culmination of pent-up longing and desire. Chloe gasped, pressing her palms against Red’s chest, both to steady herself and to pull her closer. The world outside the room ceased to exist, replaced only by the heat of their bodies and the frantic rhythm of their hearts.

Red’s hands slid down to Chloe’s waist, tugging her in closer still, and in response, Chloe’s fingers threaded through Red’s hair, clutching at the fiery strands as if holding her in place might somehow keep her from vanishing. Their mouths collided again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, lips and teeth clashing lightly, gasps and murmurs spilling into the room.

Red’s lips trailed down Chloe’s jaw, brushing against the sensitive skin there, and Chloe’s back arched involuntarily, pressing against Red’s chest. Her hands roamed over Red’s shoulders, then down along her back, finding the curve of her sides, holding on as though her touch alone could anchor her to the moment. Red responded with equal fervour, hands roaming over Chloe’s body, exploring memorising, her lips finding the tender spot beneath Chloe’s ear, drawing a shuddered exhale from her.

They moved together with a rhythm that was both chaotic and intimate, each motion a wordless confession. Red tilted her head, lips seeking, capturing Chloe’s breath, tasting her. Chloe’s hands tightened in her hair, in her clothing, anywhere she could reach, pulling Red flush against her, wanting more yet afraid of how much more they could give.

Red pressed her body harder against Chloe’s, nudging her back until the door pressed against Chloe’s shoulders. The sudden boundary made them gasp and laugh breathlessly, and Red’s lips met Chloe’s once more, rough and demanding. Their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, hearts pounding, and for a moment, the urgency of their desire made them dizzy.

“You feel that too, don’t you?” Red whispered between kisses, her lips trailing along Chloe’s jaw.

Chloe’s response was a soft, ragged exhale. “Yes,” she breathed, voice trembling. “I… I can’t… Red-”

Red silenced her with another searing kiss, teeth grazing Chloe’s bottom lip, her hands gripping Chloe’s hips so firmly they might have left marks. Chloe moaned softly, tilting her head to deepen the contact, letting herself be consumed. Her fingers wandered down Red’s back, over the curve of her waist, memorising the warmth beneath her touch, every subtle shiver and sigh.

The kisses slowed, lingering, as their lips brushed in fleeting, heated touches. Red’s hands moved upward, caressing Chloe’s neck, brushing her collarbone, tracing the lines of her shoulders. Chloe responded instinctively, pressing closer, feeling the heat radiate from Red, feeling the pull of their connection in every brush of skin, every tug of clothing.

Red’s lips hovered near Chloe’s ear now, hot breaths sending shivers down her spine. “Chloe…” she murmured, voice low, raw, trembling slightly despite her boldness. “I… I need you.”

Chloe swallowed, her own voice a whisper, trembling not from fear but from desire and the realisation of how much she wanted this. “God, Red,” she sighed, pressing closer, letting herself be held and consumed. Her hand cupped Red’s cheek, thumb brushing along her temple, grounding them both, tethering them to each other even as the world outside ceased to exist.

Red’s grip tightened, pulling Chloe against her completely. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling, heat radiating between them. Every heartbeat, every shiver, every whispered sound was amplified in the small, intimate space. Red’s lips descended again, brushing over Chloe’s jaw, down her neck, tracing delicate patterns that left Chloe trembling and gasping.

Chloe’s fingers tangled in Red’s hair, tugging gently, guiding her where she wanted to go. Red’s lips pressed firmly to Chloe’s shoulder, neck, collarbone, her hands roaming with deliberate intensity. Chloe pressed her body against Red’s, mirroring every motion, letting herself be taken over by the shared desire and the unspoken words between them.

The air between them was thick with tension and longing, every touch, every kiss carrying weeks of pent-up frustration, attraction, and hidden affection. Red’s hands moved possessively, brushing along Chloe’s sides, slipping under the hem of her blouse, while Chloe’s fingers roamed over Red’s back, shoulders, and arms, feeling the warmth and strength beneath her touch.

Red lifted her gaze, lips still grazing Chloe’s neck, and their eyes met. The intensity in Red’s hazel eyes made Chloe’s breath catch. She could see every ounce of vulnerability, every shred of longing, every suppressed emotion mirrored back at her. Chloe’s heart hammered, and she leaned in closer, pressing herself against Red, feeling the heat and weight of her presence, feeling the electricity that seemed to ignite wherever they touched.

Red’s lips found Chloe’s once more, this kiss slower, more deliberate, loaded with hunger and emotion. Chloe responded instantly, pulling Red close, arms wrapping around her neck, their bodies pressed together with a fervor that left them both trembling. Red’s hands slid to the small of Chloe’s back, pulling her impossibly closer, and Chloe’s fingers entwined in her hair, anchoring herself to her in a perfect, desperate sync.

Every kiss, every sigh, every whispered word was a confession, a release, a promise. They moved together like two halves of a whole, giving and taking, holding on, letting go, exploring the depths of their desire and the uncharted territory of their feelings.

Chloe’s hand slipped down to Red’s waist, pressing against her firmly, while Red’s lips trailed down Chloe’s jaw and along the column of her neck, teasing, claiming, marking, leaving them both gasping and quivering. Their movements were almost frantic, a perfect storm of passion and restraint, hunger and affection, desperation and care.

Red’s lips brushed against Chloe’s again, and she tilted her head back slightly, pressing closer, almost losing herself in the moment. The heat, the closeness, the tension, the longing- all of it surged through her. Her hands gripped Chloe’s hips and waist, fingers digging in just enough to convey the urgency of her need.

Chloe’s chest heaved, lips parting, breath catching as she clutched Red tighter, pressing back, letting herself be entirely consumed by the sensation, by the connection, by the emotion that was raw, untamed, and overwhelming.

Red pulled back just enough to meet Chloe’s gaze, her eyes dark and shimmering with emotion, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Skirts off. Now,” she whispered, her voice low, commanding, and charged with every ounce of fire and longing she had been holding back.

Chloe’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, heart hammering at the force and intensity of Red’s words, and then, without hesitation, she let her hands slip to the front of Red’s waist, gripping her close, breathless and ready for everything that was to come.