Meddie leaned on the balcony railing, the champagne glass dangling from his fingertips. It was quiet, but there was the sound of dim conversation from inside the ballroom. He took a sip of the champagne, the liquid washing down his mouth and clearing out the cottonmouth feeling, and the doors opened and quietly shut.

Meddie looked over his shoulder, and there was Tatiana, looking breathless and stressed out. She paused at the sight of him, and he blinked at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize---” she blurted, coloring up to her roots. “I’ll just---”

“I don’t own the balcony,” he said in amusement, and she paused, her hand on the doorknob. He could see Tristan inside, surrounded by a bunch of military officials, talking up a storm with a smile on his face, and he wondered if that was going to be a problem. He might have derailed the first event, but that was fine. There would be more opportunities for Tatiana to get close to Isilda and the MLs at the academy.

“Why are you alone out here?” she asked with a quiver in her voice, and he drained the champagne glass.

“I just needed some air,” he said, and eyed her. She certainly looked like an FL. Right down to the rosy cheeks, lightly flushed from the champagne she had been drinking all night. He didn’t know how he felt about that one. The FL combined with alcohol felt like a terrible combination. Anyone could take advantage. But, none of them were that obsessed with her yet.

“People are talking about you,” she blurted, and he wished he had more champagne.

“I know,” he said, and her lips pursed.

“I apologize, Your Highness. I spoke out of turn,” she said and dipped into a curtsy. He studied her in silence before he turned back around and continued to lean on the banister so he could overlook the garden. The walls hid the city from sight, but there was a festival going on, and he could see lights from it in the distance.

Tatiana hesitantly approached the banister, and he looked down at his empty champagne glass. He was starting to feel really tipsy. That was a problem. That was a big problem. He needed to…

Probably get out of here before he got drunk, he thought, a little grumpily.

“I don’t understand how they could give you away like that,” she said quietly, and he glanced over at her. “I, uhm, I kept up on stories of you. The battles. The fights. The way you didn’t give up Triton Bay through the whole war, and your brother signed it away just to spite you. It’s not right.”

He didn’t know why she was saying this. He felt a little uncomfortable, honestly. Tatiana had never shown an interest in the war in canon. What changed? How badly did he butterfly the plot just by making himself a man?

“I think it’s wrong,” she declared. “They abandoned you.”

“I…” he trailed off, and she flushed awkwardly.

“I mean… I don’t… I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn again,” she said, and he internally winced.

“It’s fine,” he said, and she swallowed.

“I’ve wanted to meet you… Oh! Right! I’m Tatiana Marvin, Your Highness,” she said and dipped into a curtsy.

“There’s nothing special here, Tatiana Marvin,” he said bitterly. “Just a prince who has to go to school.”

“Oh! Right! I’ll be going to school with you!” she said, and brightened up significantly, completely ignoring his tone. “I’m going to be taking the holy magic course. What course are you doing?”

“Swordsmanship,” he replied, and she twisted her hands.

“Do you… not have a talent for magic?” she asked anxiously, and he blinked at her. “It’s just… I thought you were a witch. That’s what all the tabloids about you said.”

“I am a witch,” he confirmed. “But, that magic is very different than what they learn here.”

“Oh,” she said, looking a little crestfallen. “The holy magic course has more overlap with the magic course…”

“Oh,” he said blandly, which was exactly the reason he had chosen the swordsmanship course, but he didn’t say as much. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!” she said brightly. “I just… It’s really nice to finally meet you. I came to this ball hoping I would see you.”

He was getting some massive fangirl vibes from Tatiana, and it was throwing him off a little. He didn’t know how to feel about it, and he opened his mouth, shut it, and turned to look over the garden. Meddie honestly didn’t know how to respond to her, so he just said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Tatiana apologized, and he hummed.

“It’s fine,” he said, and she was quiet for a moment.

“It’s just… it’s not right,” she murmured. “You went to war for them, and what did you get?”

Meddie didn’t want to have this conversation. He did not want to consider a world where his family actually loved him. He didn’t want to consider the betrayal, the way he kept them alive, even while they tried to kill him again and again, and they threw him aside like trash. He had already realized he wasn’t going to get love in this life, but that was fine. He didn’t have to live with love. He wasn’t going to fall into Medusa’s trap, a girl, a boy, desperate for love that wasn’t coming. He knew better. He had learned better, and he was…

He didn’t want to fall into the trap.

That was all.

“It is what it is,” he said, and she screwed up her face.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?” she demanded, and there was that FL. The girl that never got mad for herself, but got mad on behalf of others. He had almost forgotten that was her personality.

“No,” he said thoughtfully, because he wasn’t about to tell her she was being inappropriate right now. “They made their choices, and I made mine. There’s no use in getting upset over it.”

He was just glad to be out, if he was being honest.

He still hadn’t read the prince’s letter. He set it down somewhere, but he didn’t know where. It was lost, and he wasn’t going to bother looking for it.

The door opened again, and out stepped the prince. Meddie froze, realizing he was now in a situation between the ML and the FL, and he immediately turned to escape, but a hand smoothed over his stomach, stopping him before he could run.

“Where are you going?” the prince murmured in his ear. “I came out here for you.”

“That’s not necessary. It’s time for me to go home,” Meddie said, and the prince applied light pressure to his stomach, forcing him back by a pace.

“I need to speak with you,” he said, and Tatiana looked between the two of them with wide, wide eyes that were sparkling in the light. What was with that expression?

“I’ll go now,” she said, and darted off the balcony. The doors were shut behind her, and Tristan studied Meddie in silence with crossed arms.

“You’re making a bad first impression,” he said, and Meddie stared at him. “First, you dance with Isilda, and let her lead, and now you’re sneaking out onto balconies to talk to a lowly count’s daughter.”

Ah. He was warning Meddie off of Tatiana. When had he gotten a chance to get a crush on her? He sure moved fast, falling in love without even exchanging a conversation with her. Well, that was a problem.

“I came out to the balcony alone. She came out later,” Meddie said, and the prince tilted his head as the sweet sound of the band filtered out onto the balcony. Suddenly, he had Meddie by the waist, his hand in his, and Meddie reared back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but the prince pulled him in close. Was this another power play?

“You can follow my lead, no?” the prince asked, and didn’t wait for a response, leading Meddie into a delicate waltz over the balcony floor.

“Why are you dancing with me?” Meddie asked, aghast, and the prince smiled.

“I thought you might be good at following my lead. You fight like you do,” he said, and Meddie’s face twisted. What did that mean?

“That doesn’t answer the question---”

“Well, I could hardly let Isilda take all the glory from me,” he said as he swept Meddie over the balcony. “She’s stolen what is mine enough.”

What did that mean?

“Did you read my letter?” the prince asked, and Meddie flushed.

“I misplaced it,” he replied, and the prince paused.

“Really,” he said, sounding deeply displeased, and Meddie nodded.

“That was a bad time to give it to me,” he said, flat. “I was quite literally in the middle of a move.”

“... Yes, I suppose that was a faux pas on my part,” Tristan said, staring down at Meddie, and then he dipped him. His hand crinkled Meddie’s jacket as he clutched him, and the music led into a crescendo as he spun Meddie out, bringing him back in with his back to his chest. He held him, just like that, and Meddie’s breath caught in his chest.

Seriously, what was going on?

“I thought about it, you know,” the prince said, and spun Meddie back around. His hands were warm, full of life, as opposed to Meddie’s reptilian body. It was a weird thing to notice, but Meddie noticed it nonetheless.

“Thought about what?”

“Thirteen attempts,” the prince murmured, and Meddie swallowed. “You know, it made it into the news here when your brothers poisoned you at Triton Bay.”

Of course it did. Now the whole empire knew Meddie had nearly been killed on multiple occasions by his brother, because his life couldn’t get any harder than it already was.

“I thought about it a lot,” the prince continued casually, and dipped Meddie again, his face inches from him. Meddie felt his warm breath on his face, and his eyes were drawn to the prince’s soft lips. For a second, he stared at them, because he didn’t want to look into Tristan’s eyes and see what was there, and Tristan lifted Meddie up and pulled him in closer than what was necessarily proper. “I thought about it a lot, and I decided I didn’t like it.”

“Is that why you asked for me?” Meddie asked, and Tristan tilted his head.

“Among other reasons,” he murmured, and his eyes darted down to Meddie’s lips. They both stood there, Tristan’s hand on Meddie’s lower back, Meddie’s hand in his, with his serpents tangled up between them, and then, Tristan pulled back. “It would appear the song has ended.”

“Oh,” Meddie said, more than a little stupidly, and Tristan turned for the doors.

“Try not to generate too many more rumors. Perhaps it would be best if you went back to the Red Palace for the night,” he said over his shoulder, and Meddie took a deep breath in.

It was a power play. He had no idea why Tristan was toying with him like this. The war was over. It was over, and Tristan may have lost the Second Battle of Triton Bay, but he had won the war. He didn’t understand why Tristan was still so caught up on it. Was his ego really that bruised?

Meddie had been at his lowest that day. He had been convinced he was about to die, before he got a chance to even live, and he had fought to live. He had fought for it, because if he was going to go down, he was going to go out with a bang. He wasn’t going to whimper and cry and beg for the gods to finally take pity on him.

He wasn’t going to do that.

Maybe that was what had offended Tristan. The fact that he didn’t give up, in his eyes, except Meddie had given up. He just decided how he wanted to go.

The war was still pulling at the edges of his consciousness. He could hear the boom of magic, ships groaning and creaking, cracking, split in two, the icy waters of the sea, the way water flooded into your lungs. Ships in a hurricane at night, tossed by the waves as you swayed in your hammock, and he…

He could see a man split apart by a spell in his mind’s eye. He had been cut in half, and he was still alive, screaming at the top of his lungs as he begged for the gods to take mercy on him.

He had cried like a child until he died in the chaos of that battle, and Meddie tried to not think about it. Black blood soaked into the wood, entrails spilling out of his halved body, and Meddie…

Took a deep breath in and let it out.

He needed to go back to the Red Palace. He hadn’t felt like socializing from the start, but now he felt like it even less.

What did you even talk about with these people? He had no idea. He had not a clue, and he just… He didn’t know how to go back to normal. Was there even a normal? Or was he just… going to be like this for the rest of his life?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know, and he hated it.

He hated it.

It was time to return to the Red Palace and go to bed.