Valeria didn't know why she followed the princess.
It wasn't a choice—
it was instinct.
And before she could question it,
they both found themselves in the royal kitchen,
bathed in moonlight and silence.
Seraphina paused before a bowl of freshly baked goods,
left out to cool on the counter.
The tartlets were dusted with delicate sugar,
the scent alone sending a tender ache through her chest.
She reached out,
unable to resist,
and secured one between her fingers—
already biting into its soft center.
—"My princess…"
Valeria's voice cracked as it left her mouth—
uncertain, wavering.
She cursed herself immediately.
"'My'? Gods—what is this foolish intimacy, Valeria?"
She stumbled, trying to recover.
—"Dear—Princess! My sincerest apologies."
Seraphina, still chewing thoughtfully,
raised an eyebrow—unimpressed,
caught red-handed after curfew,
but not exactly repentant.
—"Pardon?"
Her tone was flat, but her gaze was anything but.
Her eyes drifted over Valeria—
a slight but solid woman,
dark curls falling in soft locs,
shoulders sculpted with quiet strength.
There was something in her expression,
a gentle pull—
a kind of yearning in her dark eyes
that made Seraphina pause.
It looked like longing.
Like the kind of ache only answered
by hands gently cradling cheeks in the dark.
—"Pardon my rudeness… who are you?"
Valeria blinked, startled.
She hadn't realized how naked her gaze had been—
how transparently it clung to the princess.
Seraphina's voice, tender but inquisitive,
pulled her out of the haze.
—"Jester,"
was all she managed,
barely above a whisper.
Heat rushed to her cheeks—
a bloom of crimson.
They had never spoken like this before.
Seraphina had never heard her voice,
never seen her face without the painted mask.
Gods, she hoped she didn't look atrocious under her gaze.
Almost unconsciously,
Valeria tucked a stubborn loc behind her ear,
trying to smooth the chaos.
—"Oh."
Seraphina replied simply,
taking a moment to study her more fully.
Valeria's hair was wild and free,
a stark contrast to Seraphina's own,
still braided loosely down her back—
her long strands poking out awkwardly
against the stark white of her nightgown.
The princess took another idle bite,
and a quiet thought fluttered through her head:
"Has my jester… always been this monumental?
I could've sworn she was smaller than me."
After a long pause—chewing thoughtfully and casting more than a few glances at Valeria—
the princess finally spoke, just as she finished the last bite of her tartlet.
—"Don't you have a name? Or shall I keep calling you 'jester'?"
The gentle tease wasn't lost on Valeria.
She heard the mockery, soft and elegant,
yet it pricked at her pride.
Still, she composed herself.
—"My name is Valeria. Valeria Marceau."
The sound of it made something shift behind Seraphina's eyes.
Marceau—the river.
Memories rose, unbidden.
Of cool waters and her mother's laughter.
Of Yeartide festivals that had vanished with the queen.
A tender ache flickered in her chest.
—"Marceau… as in the river?"
Valeria nodded—perhaps too eagerly.
Even to her, the name had always felt special,
as if the water itself had blessed her.
And her mother... her mother must've known that.
The way Seraphina spoke her name—
so effortlessly, so gently—
made Valeria's heart twist painfully in her chest.
—"Yes! I was... I was conceived in the river."
She winced the moment it left her lips.
Gods, that sounded better in her head.
But instead of laughter,
Seraphina's spine tingled with amusement.
Not from mockery—but from Valeria's clumsy honesty.
She took her last step toward the jester,
closing the distance with unhurried grace,
until Valeria found herself pinned between the princess and the wooden table.
Valeria's breath caught.
Her eyes widened,
the crimson on her cheeks deepening by the second.
She took a hesitant step back—
only to find there was nowhere left to go.
—"Wh–"
She tried to speak, but the word caught in her throat.
Her eyes flicked between Seraphina's gaze and lips,
a storm of thoughts crashing behind them.
Was this real?
Was it happening—here? Now?
Was she going to kiss her?!
Valeria stood frozen, breath held tight in her chest,
as Seraphina leaned closer—her hand slowly rising...
The jester's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She braced herself.
But Seraphina's fingers reached past her—
grasping a cloth from the table behind Valeria.
Without a word, she lazily wiped her hands,
then stepped back with infuriating nonchalance.
—"Cheers, Valeria,"
the princess murmured,
her voice like velvet soaked in honey—
mocking in the sweetest way.
Valeria stood speechless,
the ghost of Seraphina's presence still pressed against her.
And when the princess turned,
gliding back into the hall as though nothing had happened,
Valeria finally remembered how to breathe—
but not how to stand.
She slowly collapsed onto the sheepskin rug beneath her,
legs trembling, chest heaving in shallow, heated breaths.
Her expression was one of pure disbelief—
a blend of shock, desire, and helpless adoration,
echoing through the quiet of the royal kitchen.