A Dance with the Princess

“What?!”

Chiffon rose to her feet, ripping off the bracelet that held back her powers. The ravenous scowl of a predator had suddenly appeared on the face of Caramello, who had been somewhat indifferent until this moment. But then, his cheeks turned upward into a devious smile, like a trickster with a goal firmly in his grasp.

Now, the very air around him changed. Calm and collected before, he emitted an almost primal hunger to engage in a duel of his request. She was staring at the jaws of a beast.

Reaching for the mallet that was resting at her side, she brandished the weapon before her, expecting for chairs to move back and others to draw their armaments as well. But that wait turned into an awkward silence, forcing her gaze to question its absence.

“What is your purpose for proposing such a duel?” the King simply said, unflinching from his normal position. Her mother was spectating with similar coolness.

“Well, if I’m expected to guard a Royal, then won’t it be necessary to know exactly what she can do? Given my commoner background, if I’m not to have any accidents under her service, then it would be due diligence to know the faults one must compensate for.”

Faults?! Why I-

Chiffon’s annoyance was still in check, only soiling her thoughts and exhibited upon the grip of the mallet’s handle. The man was looking down on her! Any notion of respect she had before went out the window.

“I see. But we cannot create such a spectacle in front of everyone.” The King brought up an arm, signaling for the courtyard to be cleared of everyone else. A match of high caliber was dangerous for those without blessings. At once, all those present exited, aside from the King, the Queen, Chiffon, and Caramello.

Chiffon gawked at her father in awe. He couldn’t possibly be agreeing to such arrangements! But that thought was immediately confirmed as she caught the glint in his eye. It was vivid with curiosity, wishing to know more about the man’s blessing. A reddish glow overtook his emerald eyes. He was willing to even put her in harm’s way to know!

“Chiffon, are you not itching to test the merit of your future protector? Is that not why you have drawn your weapon?”

“But, I-”

He tilted his head in question at her actions, which had been brought about instinctively. Chiffon cursed her misfortune. It had been her fault to begin with. When nobility drew their blades, they could no longer back down and play it off. Her pride was now on the line. She had made the same mistake as Lombardy.

Turning back to Caramello, King Vaniglia elaborated on his decision now that they were alone.

“As I cannot allow for any true harm to befall Princess Chiffon, you shall only fight with that training sword. But I will warn you that even a glancing blow from a Royal will not be light, particularly coming from the Princess. You are in far greater of a danger than your previous exchange with a son of Mascarpone. Are you willing to accept such risks?”

Chiffon gulped. Now, it was up to the other side to back down, as there was no requirement for the common folk to accept such engagements. They had no pride at stake, no title to shame. She couldn’t imagine accidentally crushing a man like the beasts that she normally fought, or the shame that it would invoke if she lost herself. She had not the refinement of holding back either, as she needed none against creatures of the wild.

“If I’m not able to keep up now, then what use would I be? Surely, that which could hurt her would annihilate one of such low credentials,” Caramello answered, almost amused by the consideration.

“Well spoken,” the King nodded. “Then, I shall allow for this duel. We shall see if your skill holds up to your proclamations.”

Chiffon huffed a sigh in acknowledgement. Now that it had come to this, her switch was flipped. She excused herself from their presence, heading for her room to change. She couldn’t very well fight in her current clothing. Something less cumbersome was required.

Sometime later, Chiffon returned with lighter attire, freshened up after the nerves of her Princess persona caused her to take interest in Caramello. The beauty of the garden was the furthest from her mind. The vibrant colors and fruitful scents were all but ignored. The dreaming girl in the castle wasn’t needed here. She had taken the recess to strip off the makeup that hid what was underneath.

Her gaze was completely different than before. A flicker of red dotted her eyes. Seldom did she have permission to drop her guise. With only the few in attendance, they were the only ones that needed to see Chiffon’s inner self. All others had merely heard of it.

At the King’s signal, Chiffon became a blur. Her mallet voraciously aiming to bite a chunk from Caramello’s flesh. The slightest resistance could be felt at the end of her weapon, hardly worth noting save for the recognition of a foe buckling under her strength. But then, the man appeared before her blind side, seemingly unharmed. He had just barely parried her strike.

Chiffon stepped back, wondering if she had held back too much as she saw his smug expression of amusement. A hand reached out to caress her cheek, like he wasn’t taking the duel seriously. She couldn’t be blamed if the urge to wipe that grin off his face led her to overcompensate.

She made distance. Her next swing was faster and sharper, just out of the man’s skill level. It caught him on the shoulder, sending him twirling around. His feet slid across the ground, fighting to regain balance, but the first bite of a Royal had struck.

What expression will he give now?

Chiffon expected the man to fear her, or perhaps, worship her strength. But instead, the man turned around with a wide grin, eyes lit up. He dotted a finger upon the injury, and then brought it up to his lips, as if tasting the pain literally.

A trickle of fury dotted her next swing, hoping to catch him this time. Little by little, she amped up her attacks, turning to look but finding only a madman’s grin, beckoning the jaws of death as he accepted the blows. Never had she seen such indifference in the face of danger.

She approached to swing again, but then, she noticed the trail of blood running down his forehead. Almost instantly, she felt something trigger within her. The thought of finishing the job creeped into her mind. Like a drug, the sight of Caramello, lightly injured, coursed through her veins and beckoned her to do more. To bring the hammer of death upon her foe. And try as she might, the bloody and battered state of her opponent brought about a face that she endeavored to hide from the public.

She felt her face contort to something gruesome and unsightly, thirsty for bloodshed.

That was because Princess Chiffon had been born with the Blessing of Bloodrile. Her body itched for release whenever she grew heated. And no matter how much practiced poshness and glamor was used to hide this, the craving tickled her mornings. That was why she was allowed to venture around the countryside, slaying beasts and the like. For as long as she could satisfy those urges, she could remain the elegant and gentle princess for her kingdom to revere. She could hide behind practiced poses and layers of makeup and frills while in public.

“Oh? Getting serious now? How thrilling!”

Chiffon felt her jaw drop at the scene, failing to understand why he had not backed down yet.

Does he not fear me? Of what I am? How? How?!

Despite the feverish trance that Chiffon was succumbing towards, she could still think soundly. It was only her limbs that felt disconnected, dangling with pure instinct and urges to turn her opponent into mincemeat. And as the battle drew longer, more and more of her control seemingly slipped away. Her senses dimmed around her, like a flame slowly burning out in a dark room.

Caramello, on the other hand, knew nothing of what Chiffon felt. He continued to dance around, stupidly courageous, not knowing that by persisting, he was dragging Chiffon further into the depths. Each blow teased his death, but he welcomed the danger, glowing with confidence as he evaded by the slimmest of margins, blocking what he couldn’t dodge with sheer will.

It was a feat that made the King and Queen watch with avid interest.

Chiffon no longer knew what to make of the situation. Her vision grew pale, the color from it stripped to a dull gray. The air tasted stale, and the sounds of battle turned distant. To push her to this point… things were becoming dangerous. Fear dripped into Chiffon’s heart. She had to stop herself somehow.

The more she fought, the deeper her trance became. That was why she needed to grow strong. So that she didn’t need to fall under such a spell. The curse would be over as soon as her opponent gave up… or turned into a lifeless heap.

I-I need to… stop… somehow…

But every hit felt false. The man before her became an illusion, laughing at her powerlessness. That only dragged her down further – the fear, the isolation, until everything around her stunk with blood and rot. A curse that required strength to deem obsolete, lest her weakness be compensated by delirium. And for that, she needed to, needed to-

A large hand suddenly gripped her head, before slamming her entire body to the ground. The force of it created a shockwave that rippled through the castle. But the servants and guards scattered about paid it no mind; they knew the reason for it. Only Caramello was left in the dark. His motions ground to a halt, his eyes wide at the abrupt conclusion of the duel.

“I- what, what did you-”

The sight of the King slamming the Princess into the earth made him lose all articulation. Only a blow powerful enough to knock her out instantly could calm the trance that befell her.

Carmello, stunned by this predicament, looked on with wonder at the person-shaped hole in the ground. The King was hunched over, his arm sunk in, like he was fishing for a lost item in that hole. But all he pulled up was a now-unconscious princess hanging limply. Battered and bloody, she looked nothing at all like the prim and proper girl that sat in those chairs before.

“You’re lucky, boy. To have a blessing that boosts your abilities in single instants. I can see how you managed to defeat even those of nobility. A burst of speed and power at opportune times can overturn the tide of battle. However, is that enough to stop a raging person who cannot restrain herself at times? To have the focus to protect not only her, but all those around her as well?” King Vaniglia cradled the girl in his arms, pity wrinkling his brow. The mountain of a man made it seem like there was little difference between lifting a teenager or a baby. Only when he stood up did the impressive body of the kingdom’s strongest show his full weight.

Yet, his eyes were full of care as he walked past Caramello, who had just grasped how precarious of a situation that he dove headlong into. But he didn’t mind at all. Princess Chiffon turned out to be far more interesting than he had heard through the grapevine.

As they moved away from the hole in the ground, various servants arrived with magical brews to recuperate their fallen princess. A showering of colored liquids sprinkled upon her wounds, reverting any blemishes to plump, healthy skin.

The same concoctions were doused upon him, erasing the injuries that he suffered during the duel. But he didn’t even bother to look; his eyes remained on the fair girl before him.

The King began to explain the Princess’s unique situation to Caramello, until Chiffon’s eyes popped open.

“I had to be stopped, didn’t I?” she said, already knowing the answer. The unsightly stains upon her clothing made that obvious.

A frown dotted her lips, and her eyes turned to the side in frustration, avoiding the direct gaze of others.

“Now that you understand what you are in for, do you think you can handle it? A duty such as this is far too dangerous for a normal man, but it seems that you have been gifted in ways unimaginable.”

Caramello seemed almost amused by the King’s words. Just moments ago, the Princess teetered upon madness and murder, but now, she made every effort to seem dainty and victimized. Truly, it seemed like straddling a thin rope across a chasm, not knowing where the wind would blow. One slip-up pulled him toward death, but that only made it more tantalizing of a challenge.

“Well, I simply just need to put in the effort, don’t I? To get to know you.”

Such a flippant statement made Chiffon turn to him in annoyance.

“What are you saying? Effort? Don’t you get how dangerous it is? How dangerous I am from that single exchange?” Chiffon spat out, ignoring all airs of prudence.

“It’s nothing that a bit of time and patience won’t solve. My interest in you is undeniable. Even more so now that you have revealed your true self.” Caramello grinned and bowed before her, fully accepting his role as her protector.

Chiffon’s eyes widened. She didn’t know what to make of a man who would willingly thrust himself before such danger. His actions were a leaf dancing in the wind above a fire. She looked to and fro as she tried to make some sense of the situation. But before she could swallow her disbelief, Caramello reached down with his white gloved hand and pulled hers up, placing a gentle kiss upon the back of it.

Chiffon quickly snatched her hand away. Her dirty hand, no longer oozing with blood but covered in filth, nonetheless. She felt ashamed of someone’s lips touching them in this state, even if it was a commoner. At least, his gloves could be discarded from such uncleanliness. Her cheeks grew red, likely from indignation. She wanted nothing more to do with the man.

“If you are that bothered by your other self, then I must simply try hard to keep up when the time comes. I will make the most of my abilities and try hard to overturn the tables.”

Those very words irked Chiffon. They felt like her curse was being marginalized simply because she had not done enough to prevent the consequences. She wished to turn her back on him and sling venom at his infuriating indifference, but then, she paused.

No longer was he unshaken and cool-headed like he was before. She had just noticed his ragged breath and dripping, sweaty face. It was everything that she hated, that of a person putting his all into a fruitless venture. She despised how much that slim margin could swing towards a victory or loss. Yet, the man before her seemed to revel in it. The close calls while defending against her assaults had ignited a spark within him. Moreover, the craving in his eyes that pierced into hers threw her completely off. All she could manage were bumbled thoughts.

“Try hard. Try hard. Is that really all you think you need to do? Very well, Sir Try Hard. I hope you survive long enough to regret this decision!”

With that, Chiffon excused herself for the day. Since her wounds had magnificently healed from the medicine, a long bath was in order. She couldn’t wait to wrap herself in floral scents and let the gentle popping of bubbles burst upon her skin. Perhaps, the shame of having to deal with such a man could be washed down the drain as well, but she had the feeling that her annoyances were only just beginning.