Chapter Text
Melody Pond stares at herself in the mirror, huffing in annoyance as a few stray strands of hair fall from the elegant updo she had been working on for almost an hour. Giving up on trying to tame her hair - the only real identifying feature of hers - was impossible, especially for an event at the palace.
She looks towards the invitation sitting on her vanity - the one that states ‘attendance is mandatory for all unwed maidens’ - and pulls a face. Everyone knows the King and Queen - though well-loved and respected by everyone in the kingdom and far beyond that - had hit a wall in trying to find a consort for their only son and heir to the throne, John. Though the many princesses from faraway lands that have presented themselves were more than suitable for the role of the future King’s wife, rumours have circulated that John has insisted on ruling the kingdom without a woman by his side.
Privately, Melody rather thought that John might just not be that interested in women. Almost every time she sees him out talking to women dressed in fancy gowns, all decked out in elegant jewelry and clearly trying to flirt their way into a place at the palace, he seems completely oblivious to the situation. And when he finally catches on, his ears and cheeks turn an impressive colour of red and he does all he can to excuse himself from the conversation, almost stumbling over his own feet to get away, clearly feeling extremely uncomfortable.
Melody runs her fingers over her dress, making sure that the corset and the layers of skirts are proper enough to mask her identity. No one would expect the Madame of a prominent escort service to attend such an event - nor would anyone welcome her. Almost every woman in the land thought her a piranha, a whore, homewrecker - and these were only the words said to her face. Still, it doesn’t matter that the palace has declared it mandatory for every unwed woman to go to the godforsaken ball - none of them would ever want to be associated with her if they wanted to be the lucky lady who wins the Prince’s hand.
Luckily for her, Missy had suggested a rather crafty way for her to slip into the castle without being hounded by the large hordes of women who claimed she’d stolen their husbands from them. Picking up the intricate golden mask, she places it carefully over her eyes and ties the string at the back of her head, underneath the updo. No one at the ball will be able to recognise her now - well, not unless they’ve had a very good look at what her eyes look like in the dark.
“Missy,” Melody calls out for her friend, turning around and giving herself final checks in the mirror. “Don’t forget that Mr Saxon has specifically requested for yours and Clara’s services.”
Missy appears at the door, not a single hair out of place. Leaning her hand on the doorway and placing the other on her hip, she cocks an eyebrow at Melody, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.
“Are you sure you’re not going to use those lovely tits of yours to charm the King into bed?” she asks, her Scottish lilt even more pronounced since she just got off from another appointment. “Afraid that pretty boy Ramone will get jealous, is it?”
Melody rolls her eyes, tucking her stray curls behind her ears. “Please. Pretty boy knows he’s only good in bed.”
“Really? Because Clara had to send him off five minutes ago when he asked for you,” Missy says, tilting her head towards Melody.
“I told him not to come anymore unless he’s got an appointment.” Melody rolls her eyes. “Men.”
“He does know your real name,” Missy quips.
Melody turns around to face her friend for the first time, a look of exasperation on her face. “Only because your wife slipped up while he was in the room!”
Missy’s eyes flash as they always do when Clara is in the line of fire. “I’m not afraid to bring out the whips on you, Madame.”
Melody snorts at the empty threat that Missy has been making for years. “Don’t let Clara hear or she’ll get jealous.”
“Fine. If you’re not with pretty boy,” she drawls, drawing out the nickname with apparent disdain. “then why won’t you just seduce the King or Prince into your pocket? Quite frankly, we could use the upgrade.”
Melody shoots her a look. “We just moved into one of the wealthiest homes in the kingdom. There will be no upgrades for the foreseeable future,” she says firmly, as Missy pulls her face into an exaggerated pout. “The only reason we were able to get this far is because no one has reported us to the royals yet. It’s best for the business for them to remain oblivious of the debauchery happening right under their noses.”
“Besides,” Melody continues, picking up her satin gloves and slipping them on delicately, “as long as we have Mr Saxon on our client list, our pockets will be sufficiently lined.” She turns to Missy and gives her a stern look. “So keep him happy if you’re not satisfied with what we have now.”
Missy rolls her eyes. “So tetchy,” she mutters under her breath. Clearing her throat, she straightens up again and turns to leave. “Nardole has insisted on driving you to the palace. He’ll be accompanying you while Clara and I are entertaining Mr Saxon tonight.”
Nardole was the groundskeeper and the butler that was tied to the mansion that Melody had bought for their business. Though she wasn’t exactly sure where he would fit in the business, she could tell that the stocky, bald man was reluctant to leave the place he’d been assigned to. So although Missy had protested his presence, Melody let him carry on with his duties. Plus, it saved her time from having to find a housekeeper to tidy the massive home every few days.
“Still traumatised from last week?” Melody asks, the corners of her mouth turning upwards a little into an amused smile.
She catches the smirk on Missy’s face as they share a look before Missy walks out in her usual flamboyant manner. Melody laughs a little to herself as she reaches for the pair of golden heels, strapping them carefully onto her feet as she recalls Nardole’s horrified face when he found out what the new owners of the mansion were actually doing in the rooms. He’d heard screams of pain and went to investigate with a knife in his hand, only to stumble upon a scene involving Missy, Clara and Mr Saxon using whips, restraints and gags.
He’d been sworn to secrecy then - not that it took much. Underneath the kind face, Melody recognised loyalty and reliability. Evidently, she had earned sufficient amounts of his trust during their short stay here.
Leaving her bedroom, she looks over the bannister of the staircase to the living room, where her workers are usually gathered. Now though, the space is empty, as nearly all the women working under Melody are single and therefore required to attend the ball as well. Melody had given them the day off to get ready and mask their faces adequately.
Only Clara and Missy remain, the two women married to each other - Missy had been Melody’s right hand in opening their escort business, and Clara had been the first worker to join them. It had taken a significantly long time for them to warm up to each other, resulting in an exasperating game of cat and mouse before they finally had the sense to confess their feelings.
“Nardole brought the car around. He’s outside,” Clara says, spotting Melody going down the staircase. Shaking her head sadly, she adds, “He still can’t look us in the eye.”
“Don’t expect that to change anytime soon,” Melody says, an amused smile lighting up her face.
Clara eyes Melody appreciatively, her eyes roaming up and down her body. “You clean up nicely, Mels.”
“Nice enough for the royals?” she asks, turning around to let Clara see the full view. “Do you think the mask is too much?”
“Since you’ve instructed all the girls to wear masks, I don’t think you’ll stand out too much from the crowd,” Clara points out, before tilting her head and frowning as she examines the golden material of Melody’s mask, reaching out a curious hand to finger it delicately. “How did you manage to get these in such short notice? The details are amazing”
“You can get anything done with the right price,” Melody says vaguely, smiling mysteriously before blowing a stray curl out of her face and waving goodbye to her friends and turning to head for the door. “Missy, don’t burn the house down. Clara, make sure Missy doesn’t burn the house down.”
Missy gives a small, lazy salute while Clara nods seriously, shooting her wife a look.
“Have fun!” Missy calls out to her cheekily as the heavy door shuts behind her.
Nardole had been waiting outside the door for her, and she offers him a smile in greeting as he holds out his hand to help her down the steps to their car.
“You look beautiful, ma’am.” Nardole says, though he respectfully keeps his eyes towards the front. “Did the invitation say that it’s a masked ball?”
“Necessary precaution,” Melody explains, as they reach the bottom stair. Nardole lets go of her hand to open the car door for her. “I don’t want any of the women whose fathers or uncles frequent our services to recognise me and make a scene in front of the royals. It’s better for both of us if the palace doesn’t get involved with the business.”
Nardole nods in understanding as he helps her into the car and shuts the door, rounding the vehicle to take the driver’s seat.
“In case I or any one of the girls do get recognised and need to make a quick getaway, could you be parked near the palace by any chance?” Melody asks, as Nardole slides into his seat and places his hands on the steering wheel.
“I can try, ma’am, but because there’ll be so many people around, I expect the guards won’t allow it.”
“Bribe them if you can,” Melody instructs, and Nardole nods again. “If there really isn’t any other way, then circle the area until the ball is over. Hopefully none of the other girls will need our help, but just in case something happens, we should be prepared.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Nardole nods in affirmation.
“Good,” Melody says, adjusting her dress in the slightly cramped space. “Now let’s get this hellish thing over and done with.”
*
As always with these sort of fancy parties in the palace, the front lawn is all decked out in lovely flowers, their gardens weeded and washed. As they pull into the palace, Melody spies the royal guards welcoming other women into the ball and pairing them up with servants from the castle tasked with escorting them into the castle.
Melody can’t help but notice that there is a slight change in the way the workers in the palace behave - she doesn’t frequent balls like these, but on the rare occasion that she does, they seem less uptight and serious - possibly due to the fact that the balls have always been a celebratory event. The only time Melody has ever seen the guards so straight-backed is when other royals are visiting their kingdom.
It seems that the King and Queen are taking their son’s betrothal seriously - every one of their workers have been plucked and prodded to perfection, bowing at a perfect angle to their guests. It’s clear that the staff were told that this particular ball was to be treated unlike all their other balls held within the kingdom.
Melody lifts her skirt as she starts climbing the steps to the palace, a guard immediately rushing over to help her up the stairs. The guard casts her a weird look, tilting his head in thought.
“If you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, you do look wonderful - but it isn’t a masquerade,” the guard says, frowning in confusion. “We’ve had over ten maidens come in masks already. Was there an error in the invitation card?”
Melody merely smiles at the guard. “The ball is meant for the Prince to find his betrothed, yes?” she asks, and the guard nods. They reach the top stair and he lets go of her hand, turning fully towards her as she leans in, placing her lips beside his ear and whispering, “Mystery is a wonderful aphrodisiac, don’t you think?”
She pulls away and smiles at the hazy look in the guard’s eyes, winking seductively at him and turning to enter the palace.
The inside is just as polished as the outside, every surface gleaming and shining. There are candles laid out to direct the guests towards the ballroom, and Melody follows the lit path, ignoring the temptation to stray into one of the several dark hallways clearly only meant for staff.
Finally, she spots a large room, bright lights from the chandelier pouring into the corridor, and loud chatter erupting from the people inside. Wondering if she could maybe find one of her girls to talk to and keep her company for the entire thing, she picks up her pace towards the ballroom, but as she reaches the doorway, a woman dressed in a suit stops her.
“Name,” she says.
“I beg your pardon?” Melody answers.
The woman finally looks up at her, clearly examining her closely.
“Name,” she finally asks again.
“River Song,” Melody lies easily, as she often does when asked the question. “What business do you want with my name?”
The woman again shoots her the same blank look, but something in her eyes tells Melody that she isn’t a woman to mess with.
“I’m meant to announce your arrival to the party,” the woman says curtly. “How would you like to be addressed?”
“Madame,” Melody answers. “Thank you.”
The woman only nods in response before turning towards the crowd below, wrapping her fingers around a large stick and hitting it twice on the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room and catching everyone’s attention.
“Madame River Song,” the woman announces, no hint of a smile in place.
Melody eyes the room with interest, scanning through the crowds of women in tasteless dresses and some clearly meant to entice the Prince, searching for her masked girls. She descends the stairs carefully, able to tell that although the chatter hadn’t stopped when the woman had announced her arrival, almost every eye in the room was on her. Unable to spot any of her employees, she heads straight for a waiter carrying a tray of half-filled glasses of red wine, taking one of them in her hand.
Straying towards the curtains and intending to avoid talking to anyone for as long as she can, she hovers over a group of women chatting amongst themselves.
“It’s an open marriage,” a woman with an impressive hairdo pulled into a straight line on top of her head says. “As long as I have the means to keep her happy I’m allowed to do whatever I want with whom. She is too - but she doesn’t like men much.”
“Hear, hear,” says another woman in the group, taking a sip of her wine. Her dark skin shines against the bright yellow of her dress. Unruly black curls frame her face, something she had evidently tried and failed to tame with a matching yellow hairband. “Men are rubbish compared to women.”
“Why are you here then, Bill?” asks another woman, confusion lining her face.
“Got to come, haven’t I?” Bill says, looking very unhappy indeed. “The invitation says it’s mandatory. My auntie has no idea that I’ve got no interest in guys, so I’ve got to keep up pretense till I can move out. Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Well at least none of us is poor Harriet Jones,” says the third woman, nodding to another woman at the ball, talking to a guard. Melody thinks that she must be the oldest person she’s seen in the room. “Divorced twice, caught her last husband with a prostitute from that escort service - what’s the name?”
“Cloak and Dagger,” replies the first woman. The other two women turn to her, a puzzled and surprised look on both their faces. She shrugs, sipping her glass of wine. “I’m not opposed to a service when I need one.”
Melody smiles into her wine as she turns away, the lights finally dimming very slightly as the chatter fades. Everyone is looking towards the entrance, where the Prince, King and Queen stand, looking as regal as ever. The Prince has a very contrite look on his face, as if he isn’t entirely sure if he wants to do this. The King and Queen smile welcomingly at the attendees of the ball.
“Prince Johnathon,” the announcer says clearly. “Queen Amelia and King Rory Williams.”
They descend the stairs as gracefully as they can. Prince John had evidently been groomed and practiced for the occasion - he wasn’t exactly known for his elegance. His parents trail behind him, and though every facet of their appearance maintains calm and composure, Melody can’t help but read the anxiousness in their faces - they must be quite worried that their son would reject the women here.
The ball continues as the Prince circles the area, shaking hands with all the women in the ball. Melody hangs at the back of the crowd purposefully, keeping her eyes peeled for her employees in the masks, who all seem to be having a wonderful time despite the circumstances. As the music starts and the Prince has to pick his partner for the first dance, Melody’s eyebrows rise high on her forehead as she watches as his arm extends towards a woman in a bright blue mask, her blonde hair tied into a pretty knot at the back of her head.
Recognising Rose instantly, Melody lets an amused smile cover her face as she imagines what would happen if the Prince chose one of her girls as his consort. She trusted her employees enough not to let their mouth run loose in any situation - though if they were to become a member of the royal family, the situation would be tricky. Not to mention the scandal it would cause if word got out that the future Queen used to accept money for sex.
She turns away from the dance, placing her empty glass on a nearby table. She walks about the party, recognising a few familiar faces here and there, smiling at another group of girls in masks. She heads for the platter of mini-sized snacks available and sneaks a few of them up her gloves before walking straight towards the balcony, taking advantage of the fact that everyone seemed to either be watching the dance or starting to dance themselves.
She shuts the door quietly behind her and inhales deeply - this was always the best part of attending any of the royals’ parties. Their ballroom led to balconies that overlooked the entire kingdom, the view especially stunning at night, against a backdrop of the ocean and the twinkling lamps of the streetlights illuminating the picture.
Melody takes off her glove full of snacks and pops a custard puff in her mouth, smiling appreciatively at the sight around her and closing her eyes against the cold wind breezing gently across her skin. As a child, she used to fantasize about becoming a royal one day, when her mother took her to parties like this and showed her the view - she would imagine standing up here, looking at her kingdom, working on ways to improve their conditions. She would imagine being able to look at the magical view in front of her any time she chose - or even fall asleep while watching the quiet streets below her at night.
She hears the door shutting behind her and she turns around, eyes wide as she hurriedly puts her glove back on her hand. The intruder is standing with his back against the door, his eyes closed and sighing in relief, apparently not noticing that he has company here.
“Escaping your potential consorts?” Melody asks, her voice laced in amusement.
The Prince’s eyes widen comically when he hears her, his ears turning red instantly.
“Uh - no, no, of course not-” he bumbles, making the grin on Melody’s face widen as she watches. He spies her laughing at him and deflates before glaring at her. “No one is supposed to be here.”
“Why not?”
“I- I don’t know, palace rules!” the Prince says, clearly annoyed.
“Well, you’re here,” Melody says, before curtseying slightly. “Your Majesty. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
The Prince huffs. “Rude.”
“So, why are you here?” Melody asks, taking her glove out again and offering the Prince a chocolate eclair. He takes it with wariness, watching her bite into a cream puff.
“Parents,” he says, still eyeing the eclair. “Trying to introduce me to Harriet Jones.”
“They don’t think she’s a bit old for you?”
“I don’t think they care anymore,” he says bitterly. “Just desperate to marry me off so I can become King.” He frowns and turns to her. “Hang on, why are you here?”
“Well I’m sorry, sweetie, but the party’s dreadfully boring.” she deadpans. The Prince huffs indignantly, finally popping the eclair into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. Melody smiles in amusement and turns to the night view. “And the sight here’s unbeatable, really.”
“It is, isn’t it?” the Prince says, just a little pride in his voice.
They remain silent for a moment, just appreciating the scenery in front of them before the Prince turns to examine her, one satin glove on and her golden mask slightly askew from the wind.
“I don’t think I shook your hand in the ballroom,” he says.
“You’ve shaken a lot of hands in there,” she replies, still not looking at him. “I’m sure you just don’t remember.”
“Forgive me, but I would definitely remember if I’d shaken hands with you,” he says, and his voice has changed suddenly - quiet and sincere, and Melody turns to look at him in surprise.
She’d never thought of the Prince as a good-looking man before - mostly because she rarely ever thought of him. But he is much better-looking up close - his wise eyes twinkling as he smiles charmingly, his face oddly angled but still attractive, his floppy brown hair combed back but his fringe flopping down in front of his face, slightly covering his eyes.
Realising that she’d taken too long to answer, she clears her throat and looks forward again, ignoring the smirk on his face.
“Odd, I’d never taken you for a flirter,” she quips, leaning against the wooden bannister.
“I’m an excellent flirter, thank you,” the Prince replies, sounding offended.
Melody raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Then how come you’re in here hiding instead of flirting away with a ballroom full of ladies who clearly want to get in your pants?”
He splutters for a bit, making her laugh out loud. She cleans the inside of her glove, swiping the crumbs over the balcony as he looks at her with a red face.
“Are you saying that you don’t want to get into my pants?” he quips back, looking very proud that he’d managed to come up with that.
Melody pauses cleaning her glove, looks at him and tilts her head, as though considering.
“Perhaps in a few years, sweetie,” she says. “Once you’ve got your kit off with someone else in the room. You couldn’t handle me now.”
The Prince’s blush deepens even further, his ears burning particularly red as Melody smirks at him. Her amusement only heightens when he tries to stutter out a reply.
“Your Highness? Are you out here?” a voice calls out, and in a flash, the Prince grasps Melody’s wrist and pulls her behind the door, pressing her against it.
He presses a finger against her lips and she flushes at the feel of his body against hers, oddly muscled under those ridiculous garments he’s wearing. He’s still blushing from her remark, but he stares intently in her eyes, his gaze flicking downwards to rest at her lips.
“Prince John?” the same voice calls out, and she can feel him actually hold his breath, but the intruder doesn’t enter any further. As the door closes, they hear the voice telling someone, “He’s not here. Look someplace else.”
He heaves a sigh of relief and she presses her back against the wall, still feeling hot at the way he presses against her - but the Prince doesn’t seem to feel a thing as he steps back and smiles at her.
There’s a moment’s pause where Melody can’t seem to find any words to fill the silence, before he says, “Oi! I’ve been - naked - with other people.”
“Oh, we’re continuing this again, are we?” she shoots back easily, and suddenly it feels like that suffocating tension hadn’t even been there before. He just raises his eyebrows at her. “I meant got your kit off with someone other than your parents, Your Majesty,” Pausing a little in thought, she adds, “Or your nanny, or the butler, or whoever else you have serving your privileged pants.”
“I was not going to say that,” he mumbles, and Melody raises her eyebrow.
“Oh?” she asks, laughing in delight. “Has the Prince been utterly naughty without Mummy and Daddy knowing?”
“You are impossible,” the Prince huffs indignantly, folding his arms across his chest and looking rather like an adorably cross toddler who’s been denied candy. “Someone ought to teach you a lesson.”
Melody raises her eyebrow even higher at the innuendo that the Prince himself hadn’t seem to have caught himself making. She leans in closer to him, her loose curls now blowing lightly around her face by the gentle wind, and looks down at his rather kissable lips before flicking her gaze back up to his eyes.
“You’re more than welcome to try, sweetie.” she says lowly, making the Prince swallow.
Though the endearment had slipped through her lips rather without her approval, Melody can’t seem to be quite bothered by the fact that she rarely ever called anyone pet names unless they asked for it - and the Prince certainly hadn’t. She is entirely too distracted by the way the Prince’s eyes seem to darken - or was that a mere trick of the light? - and his gaze lingered far too long on her lips.
He was rather odd, thought Melody. He seemed to switch randomly from being a shy, bumbling wreck, stuttering at innuendos and blushing horribly at suggestive words to being a rather apt flirter himself. She found that it was rather charming that he was trying so hard.
“Oh, but you would like that too much, wouldn’t you?” he asked her softly, his voice dark and low. It makes a hot fire burn low in her belly and she knows that she just has to have him. He seems to share the same idea, because he licks his lips and holds his hand out to her. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
“We are somewhere quiet,” she points out, as he leads her on the narrow edge of the balcony, ducking below the big windows so that no one can see them sneaking out. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere amazing,” he assures her, grinning so widely she can’t help but return the smile. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
She follows him silently as he tugs on her wrist, pulling her through several doors and giggling as they dodge past security. There are clearly people looking for him, concerned of where the Prince has gone but he doesn’t pay them any mind, clearly taking pleasure in ditching the events and spending time with her - for whatever reason.
They almost get caught multiple times, but he looks so gleeful while sidestepping all his staff that she can’t find it in her heart to stop. She’s almost sure he’s taking the long way just so he can hide away from more of the guards looking for him.
They climb staircases and hide behind multiple statues and fountains - once, he’d pulled her into a dark closet and shushed her as two guards passed by, calling out his name. She’d felt that familiar flush again - this time noticing how the Prince smelled oddly sweet, like a dessert.
Finally, they come to a stop at what looks like the topmost landing of the Palace, and Melody is fairly sure visitors aren’t allowed at this part of the building, but the Prince is insistent as he looks around to make sure no one else can see them before plucking an umbrella out of the corner and poking it at the ceiling.
For a second, nothing happens. Melody watches expectantly, and she’s just about to make a smart remark when a trapdoor springs open, revealing a flight of stairs.
The Prince smirks at her like he’d known what she was about to do, and she resists the urge roll her eyes.
“Such a show off,” she mutters, as he presents the stairs to her and holds his hand out again.
“Only for a beautiful woman such as yourself,” he says, and she really rolls her eyes this time, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the stairs. “Ladies first.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Hoping to peek?”
“What?” he asks, and when he realises what she means, he blushes adorably again. She grins, smug. “Oh, you’re naughty, aren’t you?”
But he sounds delighted at the fact, and she lets out a throaty laugh as she walks past him to grip the unsteady railings of the stairs.
“Luckily for you, sweetie, I don’t mind letting you look,” she drawls, smirking at him as he flushes even redder.
She pulls her skirts up and starts to climb, looking ahead and wondering where it leads. She can only see the night sky, and her heart rate triples as she starts to feel the wind whipping around her even stronger than before. As she clambers up the stairs, her breath is taken away by the scenic sight in front of her. Lights upon lights upon lights - as far as the eye can see. It is beautiful and breathtaking and - oh God she’d never thought she would ever see anything as stunning as this.
She turns to look at the Prince but he’s looking directly at her, the edges of his mouth turned up slightly.
“You like it?” he asks, almost as if he’s looking for her approval.
“Yes,” she breathes, turning back to look at the enchanting plethora of lights. There is nothing quite as beautiful as the light and the dark, complementing each other perfectly. “It’s amazing.”
They turn back to the view, taking it all in, soft breaths and strong breeze the only sound around them. She stares until the lights blind her, until she has memorised the way they shine like diamonds against the velvet black night, until all she can see them every twinkling light even when she closes her eyes.
She tears herself away from the scene to look at the Prince, who is still smiling at the sight in front of him.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asks quietly.
He takes a moment to answer, his smile softening as he glances at her momentarily before turning back to the view.
“You’re the only one who caught my eye tonight,” he says, his voice as soft as his smile, as gentle as his gaze. “I dreaded tonight for ages - begged my parents not to throw it, did everything I could to stop it from happening. But it might not have been such a bad idea.”
“Your Majesty,” she says, partly to remind herself who exactly she’s talking to, but mostly to remind him that he’s the goddamn Prince.
“I mean, the jammie dodgers were delicious - saved the entire evening, really,” he says, not turning to look at her as she rolls her eyes and lets out a quiet snort.
“I preferred the custards,” she says.
“Clearly. You stole half the batch,” he teases.
She gasps, offended, and hits his shoulder hard. “I did not! I only filled one glove!”
“Are you sure it’s not bigger on the inside?” he teases again, and she laughs this time, shaking her head.
“I hate you,” she says.
“No you don’t,” he answers immediately, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her tingle a little.
She stays silent, not sure what to say to that, but he takes the lead. He reaches for her hand and places a small, gentle kiss on the back of her glove, and she longs to feel his lips against her skin - are they as soft as they look?
“I don’t bring just anyone here,” he tells her softly.
“I must be one lucky girl, then.”
His eyes lift to hers and he shakes his head as she holds her breath in anticipation, wondering what he’s going to do next.
“I’m the lucky one, meeting you.” he says softly, and she feels her insides just melt embarrassingly quickly - what in the world is this man doing to her? She’s never been this smitten with anyone so quickly before. “I don’t - I’m not sure why, but I feel this - this palpable want for you.”
A wave of arousal hits Melody unexpectedly in the pit of her stomach, brewing faster and faster as he leans in further and further into her. Her eyes remain on his lips, wondering tentatively how it would feel to kiss him - how soft and supple it would feel, if he would taste like the eclair she’d given him, if he even knew how to kiss.
“I’ve got a rather strong feeling about you,” he whispers, moving even closer towards her. Her eyes heavily lidded now and fully anticipating a wonderful snog from the Prince of the kingdom, Melody’s mind is a haze of emotions and excitement, not able to really hear what he’s saying. “You are - God, so completely enchanting.”
The tension snaps like a tightly wound string and both of them surge forward at the same time, their lips meeting in a clashing of mouths. His nose bumps against her mask rather painfully but the sting is nothing compared to the completely unbelievable feeling of tasting each other, welcoming her tongue into his mouth.
And she’s kissing the Prince. She never thought that this was where tonight was heading but once she met him - how could it not? How could she ever resist him, this man who’s done nothing but been charming and flirty and honest; this man who hasn’t even seen her face or her body but still remains attracted to her?
So she kisses him back. He grabs her waist and pulls her closer to him, allowing her to rest her hands on his chest, rising up slightly to cup his neck. He is a surprisingly good kisser - Melody can’t remember the last time she enjoyed a kiss as much as this. Her heart tugs at her chest, warning her that this absolutely must stop before someone sees them - she can’t be caught kissing the Prince, not when everyone would want to know the face of the woman he’s chosen this evening. He’ll be made a fool - and the citizens of the kingdom would never allow the Prince to go along with the lines of men that had been seduced by someone from the Cloak and Dagger.
“Your Majesty -” Melody says, pulling away from the kiss to speak, but John leans in again, as if drawn to her, and presses three more open-mouthed kisses to her lips.
“John,” he manages to say in between kisses, “please call me John.”
“John,” she whispers hoarsely, still reciprocating his kisses even though she knows she must stop - she could never resist wanting what she couldn’t have. “We have to stop.”
“No, we don’t,” he says softly against her lips, kissing her much more gently, his mouth moving over hers, soft and smoothly in rough contrast to their excited, hot and passionate kisses before. “I choose you - I - I don’t know your name, but I choose you.”
Melody presses one last, long kiss to his lips and leans back, pressing her hand against his chest to keep him at a distance. Looking up into his eyes, she smiles warmly at him, his kind hazel eyes looking back at her with such desire and want.
“I’m Melody,” she whispers, and though she knows that it might be a mistake in the future for her to give the Prince her real name she can’t give him the one she uses for work - not when this has come to mean so much more than just fun. Not after he brought her here, not after everything he’s said to her.
“Melody,” he repeats, smiling brighter. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
He leans in again for another kiss, his hands now travelling up from her waist to her back, pulling her even closer until they’re chest to chest.
“But not the woman for you,” she says softly, looking up at his eyes. She lets her words sink in, watching as confusion turns to sadness. “I’m sorry, John - but you wouldn’t want me as your Queen.”
“I do -”
“You don’t know me,” she whispers gently, shaking her head. “Even if you would accept me, your parents and your kingdom - they would never want me as their Queen.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, eyes travelling over her face. “Who are you?”
Melody lets a sad smile slip over her lips. “I’m just the woman you kissed.”
“You’re the woman I choose,” he says softly, as if making one last bid to convince her to stay.
“You deserve better than me, Your Majesty,” she says to him softly, reaching her hand up to stroke his cheek softly, feeling the angles of his face. She has no idea how she could’ve ever let this happen, but now suddenly, she’s overcome by a strong feeling in her gut, something pulling her towards him, begging her to say yes and decide to hell with the consequences. “I am very sorry.”
“So am I, Melody,” he whispers.
She leans in and presses one small kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back, a wave of sadness washing over her. For the first time, she’d actually felt so content and free with someone - she loved her job and she loved every single one of her girls, but John had made her smile in a way no one has been able to. She knows then, that it had been the right decision to stop before going too far - if they’d headed where she’d wanted it so desperately to, she doubts she would’ve been strong enough to turn him away.
“If I went out one day,” he says, letting go of her and pulling away, but taking her hands from his neck to hold onto tightly. “If I found you out there, will you allow me the privilege of getting to know you better?”
Melody chuckles lightly, her heart warming at the thought of him coming out to find her. Reality drops a bucket of ice cold water over her head when she thinks about how much less desirable she’d be to him once he found out that she’s actually the head of an escort company that has been lending its service illegally in his kingdom.
“If you manage to find me,” she says, her smile lingering on her lips. He looks down at her, still holding her hands as she walks backwards towards the door, his quiff falling over his eyes again. “You’re more than welcome to learn everything you must.”
He smiles brighter at that, pressing a kiss to her hands for longer than necessary before letting go.
“See you again, Melody,” he says, bowing to her.
“‘Till next time, Your Majesty,” she replies, giving him a proper curtsy.
She gives him one last smile before turning around. She doesn’t look back.