For The Rats (One-Shots)

The part where you dance

A/N: okay so it takes place in the middle ages, but it's not really written like it's told in the middle ages. I do still need to edit, I AM going to edit this one bc my sister in law wants to read it. Also, Devine is princess edition Devin Sola. <3 In my head I pronounce it "deh + veen (like peen)". 
Remember to comment so I know who to bake cookies forrrr <3 Enjoy 

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I'm a man with scissors for hands, 
I long for a love that I know I can't have. 

It's so sad, my heart in your hands, 
I melt like the snow in the part where you dance... 

The ballroom was awash with light, and the bright music, though filtered through the crowd, still carried itself through the room like a living being. The room was full of esteemed guests and countless royalty, all dressed exquisitely and flaunting jewels. Tonight, the wealthy came to gather. The kitchen was busy, glasses were full of ale and wine, but standing halfway up the stairs to a pristine ledge that overlooked the room, Devine felt sick. Her crown weighed heavily on her head, dark brown hair flowing out from under it's gold. The princess's beautiful dark locks were woven into braids from the sides of her pale face, pulled back and uniting into one that ran down her back, resting over her loose hair. Her dress was the darkest blue, with silver decorating the crest over her corset. The satin sleeves were long and draped open widely at the wrist, it was one of Devine's favorite dresses. She preferred black, but was never allowed to wear it for her father would have a fit. It was a party, not a funeral. 

Devine did not want to be at this party. The bodies below her could not erase the slight frown on her pink lips, or the dark consuming feeling that pooled inside of her whenever she thought of her betrothal. She was to marry a prince from a kingdom that hers had been in conflicts with for years. It was simply politics, but Devine did not want to marry the prince for peace between the kingdoms. He was a liar and a fool, a criminal. He was arrogant and disrespectful. After spending her childhood under her father's authority, she did not want to marry into yet another era of darkness. If she were to willingly marry, it would be her freedom. Devine was forced into silence with this marriage, her choice in dark gowns being her only expression of the grief she felt. Her lips were thin, her face round, her thin body clearly starved. The glitter of golden light inside her hazel eyes was protected by a tint of grey that shrowded them from the outside world. She hoped the prince would be different once she got to know him better. 

The music played, the laughter echoed, but out of the corner of her eye, Devine noticed a man enter the room. He seemed to not belong. Her eyes drifted over his sleeved tunic, black as night. She admired him from the stairs, noticing his kilt and leggings were black as well, and his hair was long, black, and flowy. It fell freely over his shoulders as he moved through the ballroom. He was beautiful. 

Devine took a breath, her lips parting slightly. Something seemed off. 

He did not move like them, did not laugh like them, did not smile like them. His face was gentle and relaxed, yet focused on something. What was it he cared about behind those dark eyes? He moved through the crowd like he was trying to get somewhere, not to enjoy the party. Devine knew the look of a wealthy man, and though this one was dressed up, he wasn't giving 'wealthy man'. He was far from the others, yet he was here. Why?