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Miaread's P.O.V.

"1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3, 3, 2, 3, 4, 2, 3. And 1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3, 3, 2, 3, 4, 2, 3." I was trying to teach the Hunters to waltz. Which clearly, they've never done McCoy and I were partners, trying to knock some rhythm into them to little avail. I shook my head, and sighed as they all ran into each other.

Everyone had had their toes stepped on at least four times.

"Alright alright alright. Stop, please." I insisted, recoiling at how hard Fred stomped on Talbotts toe.

"Do that one more time and find out what happens." Talbott threatened in a whisper.

"Talbott, no." McCoy tried to reason, but only earned a dirty look.

"Drop it, all of you." I turned my head to look at the closest thing we had to a leader. "Damien, do you have any kind of instrument? Any kind at all?"

Damien nodded. "We've collected a few over the years."

I turned back to face my partner. "McCoy, know how to play anything?"

With the help of a piccolo, a drum, and 3 more days of patience all of the Hunters could dance their appropriate parts. I blew piccolo, McCoy played drum, and the others were twirling around the yard.

Next however, came the dances of Orantulle they would be expected to know. We only taught them 2. 'The Hól og dalur' and 'The ljósum'.

We all knew how to fight with either knives, or similar small weapons. For example, I'd been learning civers since I was 8, Fred was skilled with cutters, and Tyrone with skews.

Then came the alterations needed to hide these weapons in the dressings, but they needed to be easily accessible, non detectable, and not damaging to the clothing when revealed. This of course meant a good bit of sewing and cutting for Maggie and I.

Next came proper manners. Utensil names, and uses, how a meal is served,

"The menu is as follows: hors d'oeuvre, soup, appetizer, salad, main course dessert, and mignardise." I started, ticking them off on my fingers as I went.

"What's an Or-deerve?" Ace asked, butchering the pronunciation of the French word.

"This is going to take a while."

I left McCoy to help the other men with whatever it was they needed to be taught, and started to help Maggie.

"These," I said, pulling out a pair of 7 turrent tall heels (6 inches, or 10.5 centimeters) "are the shoes you'll be wearing.

"I've never walked in anything like this before.' She replied, inching away from the white coloured things.

"That's why I'm here, to teach you. It'll be fun, you'll see. You latch on rather quickly, and from there it's simply muscle memory." I sat down on an unoccupied chair, and undid the laces on my boots.

Luckily, we avoided broken ankles, but we'ren't able to keep her from falling at every turn.

"Turn your foot, not you- oh, no- wait- MAGGIE!"

"MIAREAD!!" c r a s h

Stairs were the hardest. "If you leave your heel off of the stair as you climb up, it's easier to keep your balance. If not, you risk it sliding off, and tumbling down backwards."

We had to move to bricks we placed up outside so that when she inevitably fell over again, it wasn't far and she landed softly on the grass.

"Then for going down, push your foot back as far as you can, and-" Maggie toppled down the makeshift stairs again, her shoe flying off. "Try not to fall."

You're inadequate

"So you just so happen to have 11 sets of supperwear on hand?" Ace asked as McCoy and I set the table for a lesson on silverware.

"No, that'd be frivolous." I mocked, "McCoy and I've been carving them for weeks."

"Weeks?" Tyrone asked incredulously. "How many pieces of silverware are there?"

"Well 11 sets 12 utensils is 132 individual utensils. So, yes it takes a while, shove off."

"Fork goes in the left hand." I reminded. . . again in complete exasperation. I wrenched the fork and knife out of Manteriin's hands, and switched them.

"I CAN'T HANDLE A FORK WITH MY LEFT HAND." He insisted, in equal frustration.

"And cutting with it is easier? That's exactly why we're learning." On the other side of the table Talbott and Hugo were at each others throats.

"I'm telling you you can't use that fork." Hugo insisted. "You've gotta use the spoon."

"You can't use a spoon for fruit Hugo, that' snot how it's done." Talbott retaliated.

"That's not how it's done," Hugo mocked. "Then tell me why the nobles do it?"

"We don't," McCoy cut in, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. "Fruit is used with a fork. Spoons are for soup, custards, small individual grains, and soft ice creams. Not for fruit."

"That's what I said!" Talbott insisted, holding his arms out in triumph. In a single swift movement Hugo dragged his knife across Talbotts left cheek.

"HUGO," Damien cried, along with a few of the others. But McCoy and I just made eye contact. Talbott was bleeding freely, gratefully the knife Hugo had wasn't sharp enough to need much attention. He took one of his winter gloves off from behind his chair, and slapped Hugo across the face with it.

"Oh please, I've always been a better shot than you."

"Prove it then huh?" Talbott challenged.

"No, no, not happening." Damien intervened.

"If they apologize no need for farther action." Ace reminded, attempting at reason.

"Number one," Hugo said. "Number two,"

"Not now. If you're so insistent about this you'll do it in a month when we're done here. So for now, both of you sit down and pofa be (Shut up)."

The mood of the room was ruined, obviously, and the rest of the meal continued in silence except for McCoy's instruction. I took Talbott back to my bedroom instead and helped him clean the jagged cut.

"What happened?" I asked simply despite having seen the event.

"It seems that over the years Hugo's turned into a little- Stop that, it hurts." I pulled back my hand from his face, and watched a drop of the alcohol drip from the cloth to my blanket.

"Is that worthy of a duel however? Dueling, one of you won't come back."

"And I know which one that'll be." He replied confidently.

McCoy's P.O.V.

"Stay present, stay pleasant, stay proud." I reminded. Again. And I could hear Tyrone rolling his eyes at me in exasperation. "No twittering, squirming, or fluttering around." I continued. "Never get confused, if you do, don't let it show. Stiff upper lip, arch the back, shoulders back, tummy in, pinky out, lift the chin, and smile."

"How do you expect us to remember this?" Manteriin asked, almost emphatically.

"Breathe gently, step lightly. Speaking cleverly, always have something to say. Use your head if it comes to it."

"Aah yeah that's a smart thing to tell a group of men," Maggie commented, folding her arms and scoffing.

"But most importantly, BEHAVE."

And we were done.

We were ready.

With 2 weeks left until the ball, after 3 months of training and planning.

We were ready to storm the castle and take a throne.

As I laid in my bed that night, my heart ached somewhat. The royal family of Orantulle has always been kind to me. And their princess was beautiful. I didn't want to see them go.

A soft knocking at my door took me back to my senses. In the past few months we'd built separate bedrooms for anyone who wanted one. "Come in." Miaread walked in, dressed in a short light blue sleeping dress. It showed off most of her arms and legs, which I now realized were littered with both old and new scars. 

"What's going on Mya?" I asked, pulling my blanket off of me. She didn't answer, just huddled up next to me. But she didn't need to answer. Lightning tore through the sky, as I wrapped my arms around her. She sat between my legs, both hands gripping tight at my shoulders, my arms secure around her.

This time however, she didn't fall asleep. Constantly whimpering, reaffirming her grip on me, we just sat until the storm subsided.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. I could barely make out the words she was saying, but she said them so often they were recognizable. 

"Don't apologize. I understand." She sat up, and we were almost at eye level with each other. I smiled at her, then looked at her lips. "Mya I'll protect you from whatever you need me to. Without hesitation."

"I know you will. Thank you." Silence for a bit, then, "You trust me right?"

"With my life. Wh-" She cut me off by pressing her lips against mine. Very gently, and very slowly. The kiss only lasted for about 2 seconds or so, but I was sat in shock from it. I pulled her hair -blonde at the tips, the top reveling her natural reddy colour- and stored it behind her ear before initiating the second kiss myself.

"I think I love you." I whispered when we broke for air the 3rd time. I was completely lost in the moment. Her soft lips against my not-so ones. Her seemingly delicate frame fitting perfectly into mine. Her hands on my face, and back. My large hands holding her as close as I could get her.

"I think I can love you."

(Miaread, McCoy,)

He didn't understand the weight of what I was telling him.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never been allowed to love anyone my entire life. But I don't think I care anymore. I'm scared though."

"Well you don't need to be. Because I'm never letting you go."

"No," she disagreed, giggling. "What I mean, is that love is scary. The feeling of falling terrifies me. The only way it ends is with hitting the ground."

"Not if I catch you," I replied, snaking my arms around her waist.

"You can't catch me if you're falling with me."

"My gosling, I was falling long before you. I'll wait for you on the ground."

The night passed slowly, with lots of kisses and chuckling.

"Miaread, I'm in love with you." I whispered.

"McC-"

"Call me Cooper, please. It's been so long since I heard my name."

"Cooper then. I love you more."

Her eyes locked with mine, and I saw something familiar in them. . . 

-Eliza

I'm so sorry it's been so long but I'm back!!! Hope you enjoyed, more coming soon. Love you all. <3