𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

(b.n) the lantern waltz

The Iron Lion base never really slept.

But tonight, it glowed.

Lanterns were strung from crumbling archways and high windows, their soft golden light flickering against stone walls and old banners from a time long forgotten. The great hall of the base, all echo and vaulted ceilings, felt like it remembered what it once was. Regal. Alive.

A makeshift speaker in the corner crackled out something old and distant. Piano notes. A melody surviving the end of the world.

Bea stood alone beneath a window, framed by amber lanternlight — no bow slung over her shoulder, no sharp-edged armor. She wore a dress.

It was simple. Faded, like it had lived in someone's memory for years before finding her. It brushed the floor softly, colors catching on her skin like it belonged to her and only her.

Nico froze when he saw her.

Bea, who once screamed at him for being reckless. Bea, who fought like she had a score to settle with the entire world.

Now barefoot in a dusty dress. And when she turned to look at him,

Amber eyes. Lit like wildfire. Watching him, cautious, steady.

He forgot how to move.

"You're staring," Bea said, tilting her head.

"I'm aware," Nico said softly.

He stepped forward. Not bold, reverent. Like she might disappear if he moved too fast.

"Can I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Bea glanced at it, then at him. Her brow arched.

"One dance," she said. "But if you step on my foot, I'm leaving you here to die."

"Fair."

The music deepened, a soft pulse beneath static. Nico took her hand, other hand grazing the fabric at her waist. And like they'd done this in another life, they began to move.

Their feet echoed faintly against the old stone floor. The rest of the room blurred — rebels and Gladers swaying, laughing, stealing peace while they could. But for Nico, there was only her.

Her warmth. Her scent like old books and sunlight. And those eyes, always watching him like she was trying to decide if he was still worth trusting.

"You don't dance like a pirate," Bea said under her breath.

"That's 'cause pirates don't dance. But I'm not one anymore."

She softened. Just barely.

The dress swirled around her legs as he spun her once — clumsy but sincere. She let out a soft laugh, and the sound cracked something open in his chest.

"You look beautiful," Nico said before he could stop himself.

Bea blinked. Then looked away.

"That's not fair," she whispered. "Saying things like that during a truce."

"Maybe I like fighting unfair."

The music shifted again, slower now. Her fingers gripped his a little tighter.

"You know," Bea said suddenly, "I used to dream about stuff like this. Before the Maze. Before everything. Dresses. Music. Being seventeen and in love at a stupid castle dance."

Nico swallowed. "And now?"

She looked up at him. Her amber eyes burned like dusk. "Now it's not a dream. It's war. And I'm terrified."

He leaned his forehead against hers, voice steady.

"Good. Means we're still human."

For a long moment, they didn't move. Just stood there, breathing, lanterns swaying above them like stars.

And then, she leaned in. Her lips brushed his cheek. Soft. Thoughtful.

"Thank you," Bea said. "For remembering who I am. Even when I forget."

The song ended. But they didn't let go.