I'll touch every star in the sky

[janthony]

Who: Everyone [Open]

Where: Ravenfell, Fanelia

When: During Queen of Hearts

What: The Scarlet Court has invited everyone to a masquerade ball in honor of the Queen of Hearts' decree promoting unity and strengthening of bonds. Where else but a masquerade can peasants dance with princes, and knights dance with nobles?

Content Warning: None overall!





Posters begin to appear along the Queen's Highway, more common outside of the City than inside it. Midnight black, they seem to twinkle like stars, with metallic blood-red ink.

I - Ravenfell
The town of Ravenfell sits tucked in the shadow of a mountain valley, with crystal clear water and plenty of orchards and grazing space for sheep. If you're early for the ball, you may as well explore a bit! There's a bustling market that's always full of fresh food and craftsmen selling their wares.

II - L'Université Médicale
The other sight to see in Ravenfell, of course, is the towering university that stands imposing, almost chiseled out of the base of the mountain, with a wide, long set of granite stairs leading from the path from town. The ball is set to be hosted in the great hall of the university, known as the hall of the serpent for the royal crest inlaid into the floor, a coiled black serpent with a red belly and eyes of inlaid gold. Feel free to take a tour around, or spend some time in the library before the ball.

III - The Feast
Finally, the main event! The hall of the serpent is decked out in silver banners, with crystals hanging from the ceiling like snowflakes. The long tables are laden for a feast, with just about anything you could dream of being served, and plenty of wine to drink. There's no assigned seating, and no special place for royals. After all, everyone is masked - so get to know your neighbor!

IV - The Dancing
Just as there were no assigned seats for the feasting, there are no pronouncements for the dancing. The music that's been playing all night picks up as the tables are magically cleared out of the way, and the dancing begins in earnest.

V - Wildcard
Or anything you want!

Comments

[janthony]

[Crowley waits for the answer, a smile barely playing at the corner of his lips, eyes hidden completely by the red and black mask with custom dark glass shuttering the eyeholes. There's no 'tell' to the way that his heart does a skip when the man takes his hand, those sea glass-colored eyes shining at him like he hung the moon and stars.

He doesn't really think he's worthy of such a look, but he's too selfish to turn it down.

He bows, before sweeping the man out onto the floor.]

I was almost afraid you wouldn't come.

[eastofeden]

[ Mysterious. That's what everyone says about the Prince. So many rumors, so many stories about him, and no way of telling which ones may be true.

Seeing the smile - one that looks almost fond, he thinks, though surely tolerant is nearer the mark, surely he's simply grown used to foolish commoners all but swooning at his feet - Aziraphale finds he couldn't care less whether the Lord Crowley really does turn into a snake at night, or what secret his ever-present dark glasses hide, or whether he actually can see into men's souls - no, on second thought, he hopes desperately that that isn't the case; he'd be mortified if the Prince could see all Aziraphale was feeling in this moment.

No, there are other secrets the Prince is hiding, he feels sure; less exotic and fantastical, perhaps, but questions that pull insistently at Aziraphale's imagination, all the same. Who are you? What do you read, what do you think, spending all your days here among the books?

Why should you ever want to dance with me?

He squeaks, a bit, clearing his throat before he's able to speak again. ]

S-surely you would never have noticed my absence, Your Highness, among so many noble and dignified guests.

[janthony]

Call me Crowley, please. I know I'm not really subtle, but the whole point of the masks is to cut down on the 'Your Highness'-ing.

[The dance is a simple one, more akin to "skipping along to the beat while holding hands" than something that requires real thought put into remembering the moves.

Of course I noticed your absence. Your disappearing act from the last ball is all I've been able to think about since. This ball wouldn't exist if I wasn't hoping you'd come.

But he can't just say it like that, so he takes the time while they're facing away from each other to try and rearrange his thoughts. Something that's not easy, when all he can think about is how soft the hand in his is, compared to his own long, narrow fingers, and the sound of the man's shoes tapping against the glossy wood floor as they shuffle their feet to the music.

When they turn to face one another, the long tails of his jacket twirling behind him (thanks to the weights sewn into the bottom hem, a little trick to make the effect more dramatic - see, not everything is magic), the smile is there, full force now.]

I never got your name, last time. I've been wondering what kind of a man would spend all evening dancing with a prince, and not want to stay for the unmasking.

[They turn away from each other again, and when they turn back he teases-]

Let me guess - you turn into an ogre at dawn's first light.

[eastofeden]

...Lord Crowley.

[ It's not quite what the Prince had asked for, but it's as close as Aziraphale can manage, for the moment. He bobs his head, nervous but with a thrill of excitement as their hands brush against each other, as they glide along the dance floor.

Everyone is watching, obviously. He knows that. It's true, the Prince's costume is anything but a disguise, and already he fancies he can hear whispers in the crowd about Lord Crowley's choice of dancing partner. Firmly, he banishes the thought from his mind. If he starts worrying about his stepfamily seeing him now...

He surprises himself by laughing at the Prince's joke, though it's more an expression of joy at the fact that this is happening, again, at the kind, teasing smile on the man's face, than anything else. ]

Oh...no, it's not that...

[ It had been his stepfamily. They would have absolutely murdered him, if he'd gone so far as to reveal himself at the ball. He'd been half afraid they'd do so anyway, and had counted himself lucky he'd lost only his father's precious outfit in the end. ]

I had...duties to attend to. I apologize for any rudeness.

[ The prince hadn't technically asked him his name, he'd merely commented that he'd never learned it, and so, Aziraphale justifies to himself, it's not a terrible breach of protocol not to give it. ]

[janthony]

[Crowley is used to being watched. Since he began his reign a year ago and decided to deed his ancestral home to expand the university, choosing to rule in name only, and encourage his people to seek their own answers with the wisdom of ancients instead of one fallible man, he's been the subject of just as much gossip and scorn as admiration. The (relatively new) master of Heaven's Gate, the manor that sits along the mountain pass, seldom used since the Queen's Highway was finished, has been a particularly vocal opponent of the new Scarlet Court - although, not so much that he dares make a scene by not attending the Court's parties.

The point being that Crowley has learned to ignore the stares of others, no matter how "on brand" his choice of clothing is for a masquerade.

He contemplates the answer as they turn forward again.]

I hope your duties won't keep you tonight. Else I'll have to do a better job of distracting you from the time.

[eastofeden]

[ A flicker of unhappiness crosses Aziraphale's face, there and gone again, and thankfully hidden from Crowley's view by his mask. Midnight. The last time, he'd fled of his own accord, fearful of his stepfamily's retribution should he take off his mask. Tonight, he has his fairy godmther's warning to think of. When the clock strikes twelve, his fine clothes will turn back to rags, his mask will melt away. The Prince - the entire kingdom - will see him for exactly who and what he is.

A scullion. A servant - no, worse than that. A slave. Entirely powerless, living at the whim of his stepfather's mercy, with no prospects and no hope for a better life in the future.

What would the Prince think, if he knew that the hands he now holds spend their days scrubbing floors, sweeping cinders, emptying chamberpots? Aziraphale's lips dip briefly downwards, an unhappy moue that not even his mask can hide.

His low mood doesn't last long, though. His stepfather has never tolerated moping - certainly not from Aziraphale - and he's grown practiced at hiding his sorrows and worries behind a cheerful look. He smiles as the dance brings them fully face to face again, meeting the Prince's eyes as best he can through his glasses. ]

You're too kind, Lord Crowley.

Happily we have hours left til midnight.

[ He catches his breath as soon as the words are out, his body tensing. Too bold, too bold! The Prince might suggest that he keep Aziraphale here so long as it pleases him to do so, but for Aziraphale to assume that Lord Crowley might wish to spend another minute with him, let alone hours, is a shocking liberty, far too great for him to take. He casts his eyes down to the floor. ]

That - that is to say, milord, I am at your disposal.

[janthony]

[The subservience earns an eye roll, thankfully hidden behind dark lenses.

He starts his next question while they're facing away from each other, a full beat after the man cast his gaze down like he was afraid.]

Answer me something, will you? Pretend I'm not the Prince for a moment. Just- just for a moment.

Would you still have said yes when I asked you to dance?

[They turn to face each other.]

Be honest, now. They say I can tell when you're lying, [He adds, with a grin.]

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale doesn't grin back, but he doesn't quail at the thought of the Prince knowing whether or not he's being truthful, either. He's long since come to the conclusion that the Prince's supposed supernatural powers are - not to put too fine a point on it - a load of old tosh.

Besides, it doesn't matter. He wouldn't dream of lying to Lord Crowley. Obscuring the truth, well, perhaps. But it's clear he's not even considering doing that in this case, studying the Prince's face quite seriously.

When he speaks, it's low and intense. ]

I would have said yes the more speedily, sir, and with no less joy, because I would have been able to assure myself that much quicker that what I heard was true, and not some impossible dream.

[ The steps of the dance take them twirling away from each other for a few beats just after he finishes this speech, giving Aziraphale a much-needed chance to catch his breath and try to still the trembling in his hands, his cheeks flushed behind his mask. ]

[janthony]

[Crowley is suddenly very much glad for the mask, because he can feel his face burning from the intensity with which the man spoke.

So this is love, he thinks, heart racing in his chest, and suddenly he's wanted nothing more in his life than to know the identity of his dance partner.

His words die off in his tightened throat, and he's thankful for gloves because he can feel his hands clammy like a schoolboy inside them.]

Well, I- erngh. Yeah, uh. Good.

[He tries again.]

I mean... Would hate to find out you were just dancing with me 'cause you felt like you had to.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale doesn't notice the way the Prince fumbles for words, too busy trying to calm his own racing heart.

But he can't have Lord Crowley thinking, even for a moment, that Aziraphale had only accepted his invitation to dance out of obligation. Not that he's in the habit of influencing the beliefs of princes. Not that, normally, he would assume his own motivations mattered a whit to anyone at all, much less royalty. But the idea of it - that he might have agreed to dance with the Prince, with this gorgeous, fascinating, admirable, remarkable man, for any reason other than his own earnest, fullhearted desire to do so - is so abhorrent, so completely opposite to the truth, he cannot bear to leave even the slightest room for doubt in the Prince's mind.

He meets his eyes, and contrary to the movements of the dance, takes both Crowley's hands in his as they come face to face once more. ]

I would never have returned for this ball, but for the slim hope that fortune might smile upon me a second time, and grace me with the briefest of moments in your presence - a glimpse of a smile, the faintest glimmer of recognition in your gaze as it passed over me. Lord Crowley, I -

[ His fine words fail him, and he breaks off, shaking his head. ]

You have given me a gift I shall live on for the rest of my life.

[janthony]

[Crowley's jaw drops, a little, his dancing stuttering to a stop when the man takes both of his hands. The couple behind them almost runs into them, before he spins them out of the way, his grip tightening on the other man's hands.

You don't have to live on just the memory, he wants to hiss, whatever duties you have I can take you away from them, I can make them go away, just let me find out who you are!

But after a tense second where he wants to say all that but can't, his expression relaxes into a smile, and he brings the man's knuckles to his lips as the song comes to a close.]

You were all I could think about after the last ball. I tried to find you, but no one had any idea who you were. If you hadn't come tonight, I-- Well, I would've had to look farther, I guess, but... Yeah. So, uh... I know all the secret passages, if you want to sneak away with me.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale's eyes widen as Lord Crowley presses his lips to his knuckles, and he pales under his mask. He wants to hold on tight and never let go - he wants to yank his hands out of the Prince's grip, and turn his face away in shame. If you knew who I was!

But it's the Prince's words that take his breath away. Now it's turn to gape, staring stupidly. ]

S-sneak away?

[ The idea is so absurd, so impossible, that he actually laughs, a disbelieving titter before he remembers himself and claps a hand over his mouth in horror. ]

Forgive me, Your Highness, oh, please forgive me. Oh, listen to yourself. Running out on your own ball.

[ With me, he doesn't add. Instead, his voice softens, infinitely gentle as he lets his gaze slide around the room, at the guests surrounding them, the members of the Scarlet Court watching the Prince's every move. ]

There's nowhere to go.

[janthony]

[Something about the tone of the man's voice triggers a fog of deja vu, his heart pounding a steady drum beat in his ears. He can't place it, knows he doesn't know this man, but the Something Familiar eats at him.

But more than that, he's hurt. Behind his mask, his brows furrow, and his lips curl down in disappointment for a second or two before he recovers his charm and lets go of the man's hands.]

There's a balcony. I've already seen a few other couples and groups step out for some fresh air and quiet conversation.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale, meanwhile, is left wondering what in the world is wrong with him. Lord Crowley - the Prince - had offered him...well, he's still not sure what, exactly. More than he can or should reasonably be offering him at this juncture, probably ever, and they both know it. You were all I could think about, he'd said, a statement that Aziraphale's still trying to wrap his head around, and he'd rejected him? Laughed at him? Is he insane?

But somehow, it seems, he hasn't utterly ruined everything with his foolish words. The Prince frowns and lets go his hands, and his heart sinks, but he doesn't walk away. Instead, he starts talking about a balcony. The phrase other couples rings insistent as a bell in Aziraphale's ears, and he firmly pushes it aside, trying not to look too terribly hopeful and relieved. ]

I would be delighted to join you.

[ He smiles, tremulous. ]

Thank you, my...my Prince.

[janthony]

Am I?

Your prince, I mean. I haven't seen you at court, or at the university.

When I couldn't find you before, I was worried you weren't from around here. Was part of the reason I spread the invite for this one out so far, was so it might catch you wherever you were.

[The next song starts while they're still on the dance floor, and Crowley's lips quirk in a slight smile.]

No choice, I guess. One more dance before we go outside?

[eastofeden]

[ Now it's Aziraphale's turn to nearly be knocked into by the dancers behind them, as the music starts and he stands frozen, arrested by the prince's words. He'd seen the invitations, of course, plastered not only throughout the town but all along the roads as well. He'd heard the excited gossip - it's the biggest ball in a century - he's invited absolutely everyone! Part of it must have been due to the Queen of Hearts' encouragement to celebrate interpersonal bonds, of course, but even so -

You did all that for me?

He catches himself just in time, taking the Prince's hand and allowing himself to be swept along. With what he hopes is a mysterious, but still charming smile, he reaches up with his free hand to tap the edge of his mask. ]

May I remind you, my Prince, you're not meant to know whether you've seen me or not.

[ His blond hair is a bit of a giveaway, of course, and Aziraphale knows perfectly well he's never set foot inside the university but for these balls, much less the Scarlet Court. The thought of it makes his heart ache with longing. But worse is the thought of Lord Crowley knowing, of the look on his face when he realizes that while Aziraphale might be his subject, his destiny lies not with the great halls of the university's books, not with the intrigue and nobility of court, but with brooms and buckets and tea trays placed deferentially at the foot of his stepfamily's beds. ]

[janthony]

'Course.

[He grins, winks even, behind the dark lenses of his mask.]

But you can hardly blame me for trying.

[Of course, if Crowley knew his companion's humble origins - or, not even origins, but the depth to which a lady's son had been forced to fall - his reaction would indeed be fearsome. Though the target of the prince's wrath would hardly be who his dance partner expects and fears it would be.]

Would you like to? Come to the university, I mean. I wouldn't wish court on anybody who doesn't have to be there.

[eastofeden]

[ What does he say to that? How does he begin to reply? Of course Aziraphale would never blame the prince for anything, but what he still doesn't understand is why exactly Lord Crowley should want to try so hard for him.

He stares, nearly missing his footing again at the offer. Perhaps they should escape to the balcony after all, if the Prince is so insistent on taking Aziraphale off his guard. ]

I...I would love to.

[ More than anything else. Even as a child, even before the Prince had gifted his own lands and buildings to expand it, he'd been fascinated by the university, high on a hill overlooking the town. And now...the thought of all those books, of men and women dedicated to learning, of peace and quiet and intelligent conversations...It's all he could ever dream of.

Well, almost all.

But a dream is all it is, and a moment later, his face is falling behind his mask again, as he reluctantly shakes his head. ]

But I can't.

My duties...

[janthony]

[Hang your bloody duties! Crowley wants to say. I'm asking you to run away with me!

But that's no way to court somebody, let alone to behave at court, so he simply steps into the next spin with a deft swivel, and smiles, a twist of thin, stylishly painted lips.]

There are farmers who come study over the winter and go back to their homes with spells and techniques to reap a higher yield the next year. There are hired shepherds who learn sums after lambing season is done and the flocks are brought in from the fields, butlers and maids and cooks who race to see who can read the most books from the library while their masters are abroad.

[He spins the living angel in his arms.]

Surely I can tempt you- [When they rejoin, he pulls him closer this time than propriety would strictly demand.] -into making some time in your very busy schedule.

[eastofeden]

[ Aziraphale listens, wide-eyed and yearning. It all sounds wonderful. Of course Lord Crowley would make education at the university available to all; of course he would encourage farmers and shepherds and servants to study and read and make a better, or more fulfilling life for themselves. Aziraphale's heart warms even more towards the kindly, generous Prince.

But it seems to break, at the same time. He forgets herself as Lord Crowley pulls him in close, and clings onto him tightly, his desperation and longing showing through. Oh, he wants this. Not just the university. But this, the Prince, the way he looks at him, how generous and giving he is...He's still a stranger, for all intents and purposes, and yet Aziraphale already feels as though he knows him. Even as though...even as though he could...

He falters. He thinks of his stepfather's forbidding frown. And he nearly bursts into tears as his heart sinks. ]

I can't.

I wi- I wish I could, you've no idea how much. It sounds heavenly...

[ Or better than heaven, even, given how poorly Aziraphale's own home had proven to live up to its divine namesake. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[janthony]

[Crowley's smile drops. He slips them out of the dance, letting him pull away but holding onto his hand so that he can't escape completely. The hall is enormous, seems to almost be bigger than it ought to be from the outside, and feels even bigger still with the tables from the feast pushed aside.

Which means privacy, along the edges of the room, while the celebration is centered on the dancers in the middle.]

Alright? Nothing to be sorry for.

[He sighs. Frowns. Pushes a few escaped strands of hair back behind his ear.]

Was my fault, I went too fast.

[eastofeden]

[ Oh, he knows what happens now. Knows all too well, from long experience with his stepfather. Now he'll be pulled to the side, out of the public eye, to be lectured and scolded and berated. Cheeks hot under his mask, Aziraphale meekly allows the Prince to draw him away. He waits, head bowed, bracing for the inevitable.

It doesn't come. Nothing to be sorry for, says Lord Crowley, and Aziraphale dares to lift his head, incredulous. ]

No, no, you didn't, I...

[ He sighs, miserably.]

Please. You've given me so much. You've offered so much more. I wish I could accept it, I do, but..

[ But he can't. And there's no way to explain. ]

Can't we just... enjoy tonight? This moment, it won't last long, but... it's... it's ours, isn't it?

[janthony]

[Crowley doesn't like it. Call him selfish, call him greedy, call him whatever you like but he can't accept that this is the end. Not after all he did to lure him back to another ball.

But everything he says just makes things worse, so even he will admit that there's a point where he has to quit while he's ahead.]

You're right, [He says, putting the charming smile back on.] 'Course, of course you're right.

Come out and walk with me? We haven't gotten that air I promised.

[eastofeden]

[ He doesn't feel right. He feels rather like he's ruined everything. Again. Just as he always does.

And there's a moment where he wishes he'd said differently. Accepted Lord Crowley's offer. After all, if there's anyone able to stand up to Aziraphale's stepfather, to take Aziraphale away from him at last, it's the Prince, isn't it? Couldn't he...?

He can't. He can't ask that of Lord Crowley, or of anyone. He can't confess all that he'd so successfully kept hidden. No, he had been right. He's had, now, not one but two magical nights, hours of happiness beyond his wildest dreams, and the second one isn't over yet. Having to reject the Prince's generosity, despairing more and more each time, isn't how he wants to spend it.

He returns the smile, and after a moment in which he second- and third- and fourth-guesses himself and finally decides to go for it, holds out an arm for the Prince to take. ]

I would be delighted.