A Smile In The Embers

When The Clock Struck Twelve

Everything about him was familiar in a way Lucy could not explain. As if he were a specter that had come straight from her dreams. Her hand fit in his as if it had always belonged -and she noticed, subconsciously, the rough calloused skin and warmth that spread through her at contact- while his arm slid around her waist as they moved across the hall in a dance as if they they had practiced many times before. He wore a mask and gave her no name, but the fanged smirk and onyx eyes captivated Lucy like long-forgotten memories. .

She knew him, but her mind was not willing to accept the implications of how. The heat that spread from his worn, leather jerkin, seeped into the silk layers of her dress and the bone of her corset. It eased a constriction on her chest and heart that was more than just the binding of fashion. Like the bellows in a fireplace, it brought comfort.

The world fell away in the instant their hands had met. His bow had been stiff, almost mocking - not towards her, no, never towards her: she could sense it.- and the grin he gave as a voice, suffused in mischief and nature, asked for a turn around the floor. How could Lucy refuse him when so many others hand danced her feet away?

Lucy didn't even feel the aches of her shoes, not anymore. "I am Lucy Heartfilia." She said quietly during a small spin.

"I know who you are, princess." The voice came out within the next beat, his legs never following the proper steps, but somehow more graceful than anything she had ever seen. " - but do you know me?"

She felt jarred, uncertain, but everything in the way he moved, spoke, told her that yes, she did know him. But why do I know? Who is he? The confusion was apparent on her face, studying bronze of his cheeks and the wisps of unkempt hair that fell upon his eyes. A memory of a flickering fire seemed to flash before her, in the depths of his onyx hues- flickering flames and a smiling, toothy grin, asking her not to cry.

"If you do know me," she challenged, eyes misting with a sudden emotion she couldn't name, fingers tightening their hold against his as they spun together, ignoring the whispers of those around them, "Then you know I am no such thing."

She was Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia. A noble family of high esteem, but that was all. Snorting, the man who she felt should have been a boy, pulled her closer - against all propriety- and allowed heated breath to dance across her ears.

"You're not their princess, but you've always been mine, Lucy."

It was like having a heavy book slam into the back of her head. Scenes of a time long gone came to the surface of Lucy's mind. Moving photos of the fireplace and a chilled room slowly heated by a dwindling fire. Her old fairy tales littered the floor as she read and a boy from across the flames reacted at all the right moments.

A tear slipped down her cheek and Lucy's feet stumbled in the dance. Hopefully no one noticed. "You- I thought...!" A dream. A long, wonderful dream that had been ripped away from her. She had convinced herself long ago that her pain was merely caused by a childhood fancy, nothing real, nothing tangible. Yet here he was and the last words she remembered coming from his mouth rang inside her mind like a clock tower chiming.

'You're like a Princess t'me -'