The Façade We Make

"Aren't you tired of this?" She asks him as they wander off into the night, escaping yet another party, both of them in overdone attire that neither of them liked. He turns to look at her and shakes his head, nearly imperceptible and would not have been noticed by anyone else. She notices. She knows everything about him, even when she wishes she didn't. 

They reach the corner garden, the one with the fountain burbling happily in the center. She sits on the edge of a decaying stone bench, and he stands looking over the rest of the castle's grounds. She can't help but study him, in all of his glory, in the moonlight. She hears him sigh and tries to focus on words again. 

"I know our parents have waited such a long time for us to grow to love each other," he says, not looking at her. "I do not know what they would think if they knew the truth of it. How deeply we care for one another, but..." He trails off. She did not need him to finish that particular train of thought. That was why they were in the corner garden, the one with the fountain, the one that covers up noise. 

"Our parents can shove it, truthfully," she mutters, hoping he does not hear her. By the muffled sound of his laugh, he does, and she smiles ruefully at it. He was always such a dope to her humor. It made everyone believe this farce more. How he smiled at her and looked at her with such dopey amusement. They would not be so happy if they knew the truth. 

"Yes, well, I don't disagree, of course," he says, turning to face her again. "However, I don't think that is an opinion either of us can afford to publicize." She hums a laugh and looks away, looks at the moon, wondering what it would be like to shine brightly and truthfully. Would someone hurt their eyes just to look upon her glory if they knew? If they knew the truth? 

"Nothing about our lives is something we can afford to publicize," she says, rubbing fretfully at the suit pants weighing down her legs. At least the pants hid her smooth legs, her companion was not so lucky, having to shave his legs before donning the sleek dress forced upon him. He sighs, turning to the moon as well.

"They are planning the wedding, you know," he says, shoulders drooping. "They are sending me away for fittings next week." She makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and he laughs.

"I knew they were planning to force us upon each other, but... a dress? I'm sorry," she says, thinking of the itchy fabrics they were bound to force her into, suits never looking quite right on her no matter what the tailor did. The same for dresses on him, his body never quite accommodating them correctly. It could not have been their bodies nor their posture, both whipped within an inch of their lives by tutors and demanding mothers.

"It's fine," he says finally, his hand tapping on the stone. "I know we will both be suffering, so I can take pleasure in that at least." She laughs, the deep bellow coming from her that made her deeply unhappy, but it was good nature. Nobody could claim that she wasn't that. He turns to look at her, really study her in the moonlight.

"What?" She finally asks after letting him get his fill of her in the moonlight. "I am just thinking about how gorgeous you'd look in the dresses they'll put me in," he says softly. His eyes betray a certain doe-eyed tenderness and she looks away. She can hardly bear the love behind those eyes, when they have barely seen each other in truth. 

A jingle of a bell startles them both, stilling them like deer in light. Slowly, as if not to be seen, he turns to the doorway where they left. A serving girl walks away from it, apron in her hands, twisting it furiously. She turns away from them immediately. They have not been spotted yet. She lets out her breath in one big whoosh.

"That was close... too close..." she says, rubbing her pants fretfully again. It gives her something to do with her hands, and she does not need to look anywhere to do it. She can do it all automatically, without thought. Something she desperately needed.

"Yes.... shall we return to the party now?" He asks her softly, patting down his skirts and layers, reaching for her. She raises a hand to stop him and gets up, brushing gravel off her backside, before reaching her arm out to him.

"It's not proper for a lady to reach for the man, you see," she says teasingly. He rolls his eyes at her and takes her arm, both of them walking side-by-side into the quiet roar of the party again.

"If they only knew..." he mutters soto voce. She scoffs.

"The whole point is they don't know, so-"

"What don't they know, Master?" An attendant of the party, an elderly and sweet woman she knew well from years of training, smiles politely at them both. The attendant closes the door behind them and gives them both a gentle nod as they blush and walk into the raucous event.

"Bets on if she thinks our secret is we're fucking?" He whispers into her ear. She shoves him off.

"Don't say that, not here!" She scowls at him, and he grins, the points of his teeth digging into the maroon tint they forced upon him tonight.

"What will they do?" He asks innocently. She begins to remark something in response, something witty, something that would shut him up for good tonight, when a louder voice cuts through the noise of the crowd and the music turns off.

"Ah! I see the couple of the evening has decided to join us," the announcer grins at them both. They put on their most well-trained smiles in return, both bowing slightly. "With that then, I wish to introduce our future Lord and Lady. First, our Lady Rowena of Family Burns," the announcer gestured to him, the Lady Rowena. He bowed, curtsying as he had been taught, and walks up to the table that they were told to sit at earlier that evening. She rolls her eyes at the given name, knowing Caspian hated that name more than anything. She waits for her own dead name to roll off the announcer's tongue.

"And now, I know you have all heard his name in the dim of night, our majestic and wonderful Lord Aiken of Family Ashe!" The announcer bellows her title as she bows politely to the cheering crowd and goes to take her seat next to Caspian. He leans over to her and whispers.

"Nice going, Avery," he snickers. She shoves him off, and they begin an evening of roles and rituals that neither of them enjoy, but for the foreseeable future, they must perform. After all, the consequences of being known were far more dangerous.