Moon Drunk: Origins

The First Love of a Princess

"Will you grant me the honor of a dance, Princess Dulce?"

Dulce looks up from her wine, feeling a bit tipsy. She has never had so much of the drink before, and her insides feel warm and tingly.

To her surprise, the voice belongs to Prince Killian, the youngest and arguably the most handsome of the Fleming brothers, with his tall, lean build and the shaggy golden hair that falls over his sparkling blue eyes. She gulps, unable to find the words to address him. She glances from side to side, then points to herself.

"You wish to dance with me?"

"I see no other Princess Dulce," Killian says with a smile that aids the wine in turning her insides to mush. 

Dulce glances down self-consciously at her gown, a beautiful cream color trimmed in sable and embellished with pearls from the Narrow Sea, a small replica of Felicite's own wedding gown. Her bosom does not fill out the dress as Felicite's ample bosom fills hers (how tightly they had laced that stomacher during the preparations for the wedding - it is as though her dear elder sister had eaten her way through her sadness and grief!) and Dulce wonders what Prince Killian could possibly have to gain by dancing with her, but she does not wish to be rude.

"Oh, yes, of course," Dulce blushes profusely as she takes the hand he offers, allowing him to help her from the raised table where she had dined beside her sister for the wedding banquet. Julien and Felicite have long since retired for the evening, but the merriment has continued far past their departure. To Dulce's great pleasure, no one notices her presence, so she has been allowed to stay far later than the other children. 

"You dance beautifully," Prince Killian tells her, smiling his handsome smile down at her, and now she knows it is merely his presence and not the wine that has made her drunk. 

"Thank you," she manages, glancing up at him shyly. "I learned at my father's court. He loved music and dancing and insisted we all learn. Although I am not nearly as good a dancer as Felicite."

"Have you enjoyed the party?"

"Oh, yes," she says, eyes shining brightly. "Felicite is so beautiful. She was such a lovely bride. Do you think so, Prince Killian?"

"Of course," Killian replies. "The Agincourt princesses are all rare beauties."

Dulce frowns. "Are you making fun of me, Your Grace?"

"Oh, do not call me that," Killian replies with a laugh. "Call me Killi, as my friends all do. And I would never dare to make fun of you."

"Why do you dance with me and not my sister, Claude? She is older than me. And prettier."

Killian spins her around, close enough to pluck a white rose from an arrangement adorning a pillar marking the dance floor, and hands it to her, bending to kiss her hand.

"Claude is boring. And rude. You are exciting. And pleasant. Good evening, Princess Dulce, and thank you for the dance."

Torran takes two mugs of ale from a servant and hands one to Killian, keeping one for himself. He raises it cheerfully.

"To our brother, the king."

"Indeed," Killian replies, downing the contents of the mug in a single drink.

"You realize that girl you were dancing with is...a child?"

"I do," Killian replies. "But she is only three summers younger than I am. And I know what it is like to be in the shadow of my elder siblings. I wished only for her to have a bit of fun before she was sent away for the night with the other children."