Lunar Flare Book 2: Midnight Eclipse

Chapter 17

It was the afternoon of the ball, and Beowulf sat on Emil's bed while the noble knelt on the mattress behind him, carefully braiding the knight's long blonde locks to keep them out of his face. Emil occasionally chastised Beowulf for fidgeting or adjusting his position in the fancy new outfit that had been tailored for him for the occasion. Beowulf complained meekly about how uncomfortable the clothing was. Emil reassured him that was normal, that fashion wasn't supposed to be comfortable.

Once the noble had tied off the braid he ordered Beowulf to his feet, and the knight complied, standing up in front of the full-length mirror that Emil kept in his room. The noble had eventually inherited Beowulf's old room near the barracks, after so many years as part of the guard, finally having space for wardrobes and dressers filled with all sorts of fancy clothing. Emil looked Beowulf up and down thoughtfully.

"You brush up very nicely," Emil mused quietly, one hand stroking the stubble on his chin.

Beowulf looked into the mirror at his own reflection and winced slightly. He wondered why the plush fabric had to be so stiff, and why there were so many layers involved; shirt, waist coat, jacket... he had required Emil's assistance just to put it all on properly. The only sort of suit Beowulf had ever worn before was a suit of armour.

He had also never spent a lot of time looking in the mirror before, considering there were not many of them around the castle or back at home. That act in itself felt awkwardly uncomfortable to him, and wearing this overly fancy outfit he felt he looked rather ridiculous; it was all sharp edges and convoluted stitching and a collar that made his neck itch. The overly ornate attire felt uncomfortable and looked even more so. A big oaf like him didn't belong in such pretty clothing.

"I look stupid..." Beowulf murmured melancholically.

Emil gave him a look of surprise, then scowled. "Nonsense. You look fine, I promise you you'll blend in perfectly. Trust me."

Beowulf frowned, but he nodded anyway. "So, um... what exactly do people do at balls?" Beowulf asked timidly. He had never been to such an event before, as Richard had never held any parties like that since Vivienne had died, and Beowulf wanted to make sure he would fit in as best he could there.

Emil had wandered off across the room to where his own outfit for the ball was hanging on the front of his closet. "Oh, you know. Talk, drink alcohol, eat tiny pastries. Dance." Beowulf couldn't drag his eyes away as he watched the noble pulling off his own casual clothes, stripping down to just his undergarments.

"Dance?" Beowulf said in slight alarm once Emil's words had fully registered in his mind. "But I don't know how to dance!"

"You don't know how to dance?" Emil responded in disbelief as he started pulling his own outfit on. "Wait, of course, you're a commoner..." He made some thoughtful sounds as he buttoned up his own jacket. Emil's outfit was even fancier and more extravagant than what he had dressed Beowulf in, just as desaturated but with vibrant greens speckled throughout to complement his eyes. Beowulf couldn't help but make the mental comparison to the peacocks that wandered the castle gardens; all intricate details and swirling patterns that made his head spin if he looked at them too long.

"What do I do?" Beowulf found it difficult to keep the panic out of his voice.

"Calm down big guy, don't worry," Emil reassured, adjusting the lace ruff hanging from his neck down his chest as he stepped back over towards the knight. "I can show you the more basic movements you ought to know, should the need arise."

Beowulf looked down at the noble pleadingly. "You will?"

"Of course, now put your right hand around my waist, and give me your left hand," Emil instructed. Beowulf obeyed, hunching over to place his large hand around the noble's small waist and offering up his other hand. Emil wove his delicate fingers in between Beowulf's huge ones, clasping the hand.