Number Four

The Black Queen

Bonnie woke up from a refreshing night's sleep, stretched and sat up in bed. She looked over at the shape hanging on the wardrobe. Oh. This was different.

The dress was black— as black as the pieces on a chessboard, as black as one of Henry's beloved spiders. As she slipped from the bed to investigate, she discovered it was satin, soft and luxurious beneath her fingertips. Bonnie eyed it warily for a long moment, before pulling it from the hanger.

Emerging moments later in the dress, Bonnie looked at herself in the dressing table mirror. The bodice was nipped in quite a bit at the waist, fitted and shapely, cutting quite the striking figure. The fabric was as soft as butter against her skin, begging to be touched. This dress was a seduction; sultry and beautiful. There was something deep and dark about it; something dangerous.
It was almost like an accusation; she could feel the judgement behind it. Something changed the game— shattered part of the illusion. An oddly freeing thought. It was rich, dramatic, over-the-top— was he calling her vampy?

Putting her hands on her hips, Bonnie posed in the mirror again. As she did, the background of her reflection changed. Soft white walls mouldered away, becoming overgrown with vines; white particles rained down on her, otherworldly light staining her skin like ink. Startled, Bonnie jolted forward, touching the glass— mistake. Beneath her fingers, the vision corrected itself, returning to its prior form. Bonnie whipped around, but the room was as it always was; clean, white and uncomfortably perfect.

When she arrived downstairs, Bonnie found him already at the breakfast table. Bonnie gestured at the china. "I feel like Alice in Wonderland coming down day after day to a spread like this." She had noticed the small black box sitting on the table— so he still wasn't past that thought. Smile tight-lipped, Bonnie sat down, pulling her chair under the table. "So, what do you want to do today?"

***

The settee in the library was comfortable; french in style, maddeningly white with an elegant frame. Bonnie and Henry sat on it, Bonnie's head slightly on Henry's shoulder, each reading their own book. Bonnie was in a book of fairytales, more pretty pictures than words— tracing with her fingers the pastel colours on an image of Sleeping Beauty in her tower overgrown with thorns. She had seen the animated film once— it was one of the first things she had watched after her escaped, and she had liked it very much; but that had looked quite different to this, had been all bright colours.

With a final swirl drawn over the dark hair of the sleeping princess, Bonnie closed the book and sighed in frustration. "I'm bored." Turning her face into Henry's shoulder, she smiled as an idea occurred. "Dance with me."

He looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

"Dance with me!" Bonnie insisted, rising from the chair. "Come on, I want to dance. What, do you not know how to dance?"

There was a pause.

"...I'll teach you!" Bonnie offered. "Come on. Dance with me."

Henry smiled, and pushed himself up from the chair. "I never could tell you no."

Bonnie arranged him like a puppeteer. "...You put your hand there... that one there, and... yes, that's it!"

They swayed across the floor, held close in each others arms; a simple slow-dance. Bonnie could feel the heat from his body, his chin resting above her head as slowly he took over from her, steering them both.

"So I have to ask," He said after a moment. "How do you know how to dance?"

Bonnie looked up at him, a teasing smile on her face. "Oh, I've been around— all sorts of places. I'm an experienced woman, you know." There was fire in his eyes as she spoke; they were so close, they were practically sharing breath. All it would take for her to bridge the gap was to just tip her face up...

Bonnie licked her lips. "I wish we had some music."

Something went sharp behind his eyes. "No music." His grip tightened on Bonnie's hand.

Bonnie laughed. "No music? There's a piano in the other room— probably a record player if we look."

The grip on her hand tightened still. "No music." He softened, swaying her gently in his arms. "We don't need music, there's enough here."

Cheeks pinked, a coy smile on her face, Bonnie hummed lightly, letting him pull her closer— filing away that piece of information for later. For now, she enjoyed his touch, the hand on her hip burning her through the soft fabric, allowing herself to be lead as if in a dream.

When at last they separated, Bonnie playfully bobbed a curtsey; holding her skirt as she did, then smoothing it down with her hands. "It's a lovely dress, good for dancing— though not practical for much else. Not like I'd usually wear." With a laugh on her lips, she held out her hand for him to take.

A/N: I have come to realise this is basically a story told through costumes and colours. (But it all has such meaning— you can tell Secondary school English Literature got to me. XD)
I assume you have all realised it's a pretty toxic relationship, (fun to read about though) and the only way I'm justifying it to myself is that they're both pretty terrible people. XD

Should be a picture up top and 2 songs sprinkled through the chapter.

Please, if you've got this far, leave a like and a comment! I'm always open for ideas you want to throw my way!