The days felt longer, which they really shouldn't have. The suite had been ripped apart, the group barely speaking when they spent time together, rare as that was. Nothing was different with time, but everything was different. Freyja had been pulled from multiple classes for little jobs for their new Headmistress. Terra hid out in the Greenhouse with her father and brother. Musa and Aisha never detached their hips and Bloom was drawn more and more to Beatrix. Sky talked with the redhead a few times, but she could tell he wished she were Bloom.

On another mid-day meeting, Freyja stood before the Headmistress at her desk. "My take-over has not been as well received as I'd hoped. But there haven't been any uprisings or whispers of rebellions so I think a bit of recreational downtime would do convince the student body I'm not the monster your former educators spread about that I am."

Freyja nodded slowly, attempting to understand. "Recreational downtime meaning?"

The blonde didn't spare her a glance, looking about the desk. "You'll need to make arrangements. Music, use the canteen, invitations, decorations. Something... formal."

"A... dance?" the redhead stammered out in confusion.

"A dance!" Rosalind chirped in response, deep blue eyes jerking to meet her own finally.

"Um..." Pale blue eyes searched the air, grimacing insecurely at the new Headmistress. "I don't think you can do that."

A predatory grin donned her face as she leaned forward. "My dear, you'll find I can."

The ginger frowned, looking at the papers on her desk. "What kind of dance? Do you have a theme? Anything."

Blue eyes rolled. "I have no time to decide such meaningless facets." She arranged the organized chaos of her desk into less chaos, but still a right mess. She handed Freyja a pile of papers for all sorts of approvals. She'd need to be filling these out. With a sigh, she retreated to the outer office for a massive case of brainstorming.

*~*

Everything was handled. Except for the date. Rosalind wanted to schedule it around her plans, meetings with the Queen, other generals in the army, old veterans who'd hoped to never see another battle. But her schedule didn't coincide with the school's.

"They need to sleep," the redhead continued to insist.

But the blonde wasn't having it. "One night of light-heartedness is good for the soul, I understand."

With a sigh, Freyja, sitting on the armrest of a seat in the Headmistress' sitting area, tossed the papers down. She'd quite like to stop thinking about this now. Hand it off to Stella and sleep for a millennium. "Do you plan on going easy on them the next day in training?"

"Of course not," Rosalind argued.

Rubbing her forehead with another sigh, Freyja looked at the blonde again. "Then you can't have it on a week night."

Sharp blue eyes bored into her and the air changed. The redhead knew she'd crossed some sort of line. She suddenly felt like prey. The headmistress approached her. "You.. will have it on a week night and I won't hear anything else about what I can't do." She suddenly eyed the redhead. "Have you considered any personal plans?" she asked in that low, rasping tone.

The perceived prey looked up, semi understanding. "I don't party."

They crossed the floor a little more urgently.

Astra matched her energy to practically leap away.

"You will for this."

"I will not," came her stubborn response to the gall of the older woman.

And suddenly she was cornered. The bookcase beside the desk pressed hard against the redhead's back, digging with the corners of prop textbooks. She tried to bury herself within the bookshelf, not an unfamiliar action to Freyja though in new context. She reached an arm around her back, grasping the handle of her only armament.

Rosalind leaned in close, her arms caging the redhead in a not unfamiliar fashion. Eyes that changed color with the flood of memories the woman coaxed from her subconscious, flashed to see the arm caging her in, remembering Layla's unique interrogation tactics.

Freyja brought her arm up to bring her knife down on Rosalind. The brilliant blonde brought her arm up to block. A second later, she was shoved back. Pushed into the wall harder, Freyja brought up her leg to kick the Headmistress. Rosalind barely exerted any effort to grab her leg and spin her around. She was shoved so her front was against the area beside the bookcase and a body was pressed behind her, leg pinned bent up into her behind. Hair yanked harshly, Freyja was ready to apologize. But she wouldn't. Her head was tipped so far back, her skin was pulled tight at Rosalind's grip on her hair. Her knuckle pressed tight to Freyja's spine and she was pulled back to bend nearly 270 degrees. Freyja tried to yank forward and Rosalind's knuckle dug into her spine, thumb wrapping her ankle, magic pushing harder, a hair's length from severing her spinal cord. Freyja bent to relieve any pressure, knees losing strength, and she cried out in pain, tears finally leaking from her eyes. "God, please stop!" she begged, breaking. After months of pressure and demanding, she couldn't keep herself together and she didn't have anywhere safe to do so.

Rosalind actually let her go.

Freyja slid down the wall of books, bending in on herself. Assuming a near-fetal position.

The blonde Headmistress watched the sobbing girl with a fascinated, twistedly lecherous smirk. She slowly, as to make a show of it, knelt beside the student. She reached out and slid her hand down her jaw.

Freyja flinched away, sitting against the wall, hands on the floor, and eyes boring on the blonde. She tried to push herself further back, as if she hadn't retreated as far as possible already. Her feet were far enough apart to keep her legs propped up. Somehow, she knew to keep her knees together. Not that it deterred Rosalind.

The blonde curled her cold, firm fingers around the exposed ankle, pulling her closer to the headmistress.

She'd stopped crying the second Rosalind made her presence known again. She breathed heavily, paying no mind to their proximity. She brought her hand up to smack her, but the military woman caught it easily once more. Her fingers bound her tightly, pulling her even closer. "Now, now. Let's not start that again," her cold, soft voice scolded.

Cold grey eyes jerked over to the knife she'd dropped and Freyja kicked her leg out, the one Rosalind was still holding, to get the woman off her game. She reached with her free hand, but harsh fingers clamped around her shoulder, pulling her back. Her face was pulled to connect with hard, demanding lips.

The hand on her shoulder moved down to grab her other wrist, pinning it to the wall. Rosalind pressed Freyja far enough against the wall that she couldn't remove her mouth. Kicking out with her legs to get her off, Rosalind moved one hand to hold her neck, forcing their lips together. Her other went down to pull the air fairy up against her. Freyja was pushing her away until the blonde bucked her hips against her. Conveniently, she let them part to breathe and Freyja gasped at the sensation. She blushed and looked away, embarrassment physically covering stress.

That was what Freyja felt around Headmistress Dowling. The warmth in her stomach and the shakiness everywhere. She'd always been afraid her Headmistress could see her moving. But no one ever did so she wondered if it was in her head.

Rosalind's lips were on her neck, drawing her from her mind. She was chuckling lowly, sending a jolt through her, landing somewhere between her legs. "Now, then, you aren't to accept any invitations to the masquerade, but you are going. And that dress you so despised, you're wearing."

Freyja laughed a little sarcastically. "That is so not-" She felt another jolt through her at another move of Rosalind's. She started breathing a little heavily, eyes fluttering to meet the smug blue.

The blonde made a show of lowering her lips again, bringing some flesh between her teeth. Something warm and wet caressed the skin and made Freyja shivver.

She wasn't a fool. Freyja knew about sex. She knew the particulars from her books, but she'd never lived anywhere near there. The only girl she'd ever hung with didn't seem all that interested in her. And the boy she was with (before she discovered sexuality & her own) had been scared of her. So, she wasn't sure of the sensations or intensity of actual intercourse. She'd done showertime wondering, as everyone did, but she never learned anything about herself. So she wasn't entirely sure this was sex, but she knew it was something Rosalind knew that she didn't. Not that there was much Freyja knew that Rosalind didn't. And she knew it was harder to argue with her with whatever she was doing.

Rosalind stood up, pulling the redhead with her. "Come along. You need sleep."

"I-" Freyja pointed behind her, out into the hall. "Stella will be-"

"Stella is distracted by some pretty boy she met. One of your pretty boys, actually."

Freyja frowned. "Brandon?" she asked, eyes jerked over to the knife again.

Cold fingers grasped her chin. "Come. Along. I won't say it again."

Her bicep was grabbed rather harshly and she was dragged from the room in an unyielding grasp.