Sovereign: A Mulan Retelling [Ongoing]

Chapter 3b

"Princess? May I request the honour of being the first to dance with you?" A male voice addressed her from the crowd, his tone unmistakably commanding, but also softened with a trace of understanding; something that almost bordered on sympathy.

Shocked at the familiarity of his looming silhouette, Fallon whirled around and came face-to-face with the blue-eyed stranger she'd run into earlier; the one who'd displayed curiosity instead of animosity. She took further notice of his appearance now that she wasn't running away, and what she found was far from displeasing. Blond wavy hair, cropped neatly against his head, almost as if he'd just received a haircut, easygoing features, a strong jaw—and something in his eyes once more, that she couldn't quite place. He didn't hate her or falsely admire her like the others; and yet, distrust lingered beneath the surface. Curiosity and distrust. It was a dangerous combination, and one that set off warning bells in the princess's head. And yet, she knew that if she refused his offer, it would only raise further suspicions.

Fallon glanced from his outstretched hand to the crowded ballroom, taking note of how the other nobles continued to whisper among themselves, oblivious to the conflict raging within her. At last, she sighed in defeat, taking his offered hand, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, leaving a flabbergasted Corvina behind, features twisting in disgust at being deliberately ignored. Corvina the enchantress; who was never ignored. Least of all by handsome men in tailcoats. Fallon smirked briefly. Let her swallow that.

Her muscles still ached from earlier, and she felt as if she'd taken a tumble down the side of a rock cliff. Bloody hell—how was she going to dance in this state, after six painstaking hours of intense combat training? What excuse could she use? She could barely lift her arms; forget twirling around a ballroom.

"I must warn you that I'm a terrible dancer," she finally said, her voice dropping softly to conceal her words from nosy onlookers. She hadn't even greeted him properly, as Royals were supposed to greet their guests and subjects, but at the present moment, her brain was too exhausted and numb to worry about manners or trivialities. "I may step on your toes."

The strange man turned his questioning gaze towards her once more, and she thought she caught a brief glimpse of amusement twitch over his lips. "Fear not, Princess," he replied. "I've endured far worse than a few bruised toes. Though, I must say..." he added, raising a blonde eyebrow. "I find it odd that a royal would be so clumsy on the dance floor. I imagine that you've had lessons on ballroom etiquette drilled into you from the moment you could walk."

She opened her mouth to respond, but they had already reached the centre of the dance floor. He released her hand from his warm grip and stepped back, bowing low as was custom. Fallon curtsied in turn, cursing under her breath as her tired legs wobbled and shook beneath her skirts. She felt as if she'd collapse at any moment, gritting her teeth in the hopes that her dancing partner wouldn't notice.

The palace musicians began to play a slow, wistful tune, and for the first time in her life, Fallon was grateful for the song choice. If they'd picked a livelier pace, she'd be forced to push her body even further than she already had, and she doubted it would end well. She could barely stand on her own two feet at the moment. Everything ached; her back and ribs, from being repeatedly slammed into the dirt at the training grounds; her arms and shoulders from sparring with a heavy sword hour after brutal hour, and her feet begged her to sit down and take the weight off them—except she couldn't.

A firm grip on her shoulder pulled Fallon back to reality, and she gazed through her lashes at the man before her, wondering what he was thinking about. Did he find her repulsive, or snobbish, like the other nobles? Was he disgusted at her lack of manners? Or was he simply counting down the seconds until he could get away? And more importantly, was he one of the competitors who had arrived for the tournament? He must be; she had never seen him at Court before. Though, when it came to Fallon, that didn't mean much. She usually did her best to avoid any interactions with the nobility within the castle. Nonetheless, his blue eyes and light hair were more common to the Southern parts of the kingdom, not the Western Coast, where the capital city was located. She would have to ask him about it when she got the chance.