{ r o y a l s } | alexander + lucrezia

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

It hasn't snowed for months now and her leopards have grown restless, constantly tugging at the hem of her shirt. She misses the wintertime, all the snow on the ground, the frigid wind nipping at her skin and rushing through her hair. She sits at a bar stool at a quiet pub, the one at the foot of the mountains on the gravel road, thinking about how she'll dye her hair silver again in the winter.

The lights in the bar are golden and soft, like candlelight at a romantic restaurant, only instead of roses, there is whiskey in the air. It's been a long night and after a while, the stench of alcohol becomes suffocating, and the only activities the bar has to offer is playing pool or conversing with strangers — and of course, drinking until you can hardly walk in a straight line.

She sighs, pulling out wadded up money and placing it on the counter for the bartender. With a nod, she puts on her coat, black like her hair, and saunters toward the door. Lucrezia's eyes are fixed on the window outside, where she can see the dark, cloudy sky and the gray gravel road illuminated by the porch lights. In a few months time, the road will be covered in snow.

Step, step — and then she slams into someone. She only catches a glimpse of him at first, a flash of dark curls and brown eyes, as his beer bottle plummets to the ground him his grasp. But years of Career training kick in, and a split second before the bottle hits the ground, Lucrezia catches it in her hand. She straightens her knees and looks back at the man. He is soft-featured but classically handsome; heat rushes into her cheeks and her knuckles turn white around the bottle.

She half-smiles sheepishly at the stranger. "Sorry, that was my bad." Lucrezia holds out his beer bottle for him to take. "You're lucky I'm fast; here's your beer."

[kousei ♚]

There's something about the death of summer that sends rough shivers down my spine, rough chills lacing up my bones and layers upon layers wrapping around my skin -- and it isn't from the weather. It's the part buried deep within my heart that dreams for the spring and remembers the summer but eighteen years of practice taught me to ignore it.

I'm a man of winter after all.

I run a cold hand through my dark hair and tighten my grip around the neck of the beer bottle.
I always come here this time of year, despite the fact that intoxication has never really been my thing. However, it's faded from simple routine and into the realm of ritual so I find myself at this pub once again. Downing whatever I can in isolation; I suppose this place is perfect in that sense.

I stumble, someone colliding into me and the bottle slipping from between my finger tips when I gasp. But it doesn't shatter.

"Sorry, that was my bad." I spin to find it held in the outstretched hands of this girl. You're lucky I'm fast; here's your beer." The half grin, the red cheeks -- I can't help but smile when I take it.

"How about I get you one? Call it my way of saying thank you."

Something new always comes with the death of summer.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

He smiles at her and her heart nearly leaps out of her chest, mostly out of embarrassment for being so clumsy. She's a Career; she's supposed to be more coordinated. Lucrezia finds herself surprised that he isn't upset in the slightest, but that could easily be the whiskey in his veins.

"How about I get you one? Call it my way of saying thank you," he offers. There's a friendly twinkle in his dark eyes that seems to draw her in. She stands on the verge of saying yes — she hasn't had much to drink anyway, just a small glass of a light beer. That, and who is she to say no to a pretty face?

"I was about to leave," she admits. "But I suppose I should let you thank me. Consider it my 'you're welcome.'" She leads him back to her bar stool and smiles at the bartender, who raises an eyebrow as if to say, Weren't you leaving?

She answers the bartender by taking her cardigan off and setting it on the one of the stools beside her, revealing a black tank top with thin straps and pink shorts.

[kousei ♚]

I don't know why I have to suppress a sigh of relief at her answer. "But I suppose I should let you thank me. Consider it my 'you're welcome." I'm not like the other career men my age, easily finding one girl for the week and moving onto the next like they're nothing but notches upon my bedpost. But the few times I found myself locked in the sight of a woman they rarely left me with a broken and abrupt no.

Still, I am a man of winter and my father would never tolerate a son who stuttered on his words and tripped over his own two feet on the account of seeing someone of the opposite gender. When she leads me to the bar and sets herself on a stall, removing her cardigan, I do my best to hide the way my cheeks flush a light shade of red. I sit on the stall next to her and place cash on the table in front of him. "Two more, please." I order, managing a soft smile when I speak.

"Never been much a drinker, I try to not have more than one a night," I say to her simply when the two bottle make their way on the bar. I take mine and gently nudge hers towards her. "But for some people I'll gladly make exceptions."

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

She catches a hint of pink in his cheeks and she finds herself mirroring him. Lucrezia manages a nervous smile as he places cash on the counter and says, "Two more, please." Whiskey and low lights — it's far from a romantic setting, but she gets the idea that romance isn't why he's sitting down with her. Men who genuinely want relationships do not sit down with women at bars. She is no fool; she knows that.

But still, it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun, she supposes.

"Never been much a drinker, I try to not have more than one a night," he tells her, and she wonders if he is telling the truth. It doesn't matter if he is, though, she reminds herself. "But for some people I'll gladly make exceptions." He pushes her drink over to her, and she takes it in her hand.

"I don't drink often, either," she replies. Lucrezia remembers that the last time she was drunk, she had her first kiss with a pretty red-haired girl. It was a reckless thing to do; she had vowed not to get wasted with people again, and she intends to keep that promise. As long as she isn't getting drunk tonight, it's no harm done.

"I'm Lucrezia, by the way, or Luce, if that's too much of a mouthful," she introduces herself, taking a sip of her beer.

[kousei ♚]

I bring the bottle to my lips and down a mouthful when she begins to talk. It's strange, how I asked her here for the simple fact she saved my bottle from breaking. At least, that's what I say but she has to know that's far from the whole truth. No normal person spends money on more drinks to say a simple 'thank you' to someone they just met. Unless they happen to be as attractive as she is of course.

Still, it's nice to pretend because I never get to. Not truly anyway.

"I don't drink often, either," she replies and I find it surprising, I remember all the parties I've been to with drunken careers. ["I'm Lucrezia, by the way, or Luce, if that's too much of a mouthful," she introduces herself before taking another sip and I stop myself from staring.

"Alexander," I say automatically, the name practically tumbling from my lips. "I'm Alexander," I clarify, chuckling and rubbing the back of my head. "Or Alex if that's too much of a mouthful."

I pause, only for a second. It's too easy to forget what you wanted to say sometimes.

"So what brings you to this place, since you're not much a drinker?" I ask, running my fingers across the bar playfully before smiling. "Looking for someone special in particular?" I end the question with a veil of innocence as thin as paper.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

He replies with a name — "Alexander," he says. "I'm Alexander. Or Alex if that's too much of a mouthful."

He pauses, but then continues to speak. She doesn't mind; his voice is like velvet, soothing and soft. It is not at all marred by intoxicated slurs. "So what brings you to this place, since you're not much a drinker?" Alexander inquires, and he begins to run his fingers across the polished counter. He smiles at her again, and she finds that she's beginning to like the way he smiles. It seems so genuine and matches with the little shine in his eyes. "Looking for someone special in particular?"

"Or maybe I was just bored," Lucrezia suggests. "I like alcohol, I just don't like getting drunk. There's a difference," she shrugs. "And what about you? Was there anything you were looking for?" Lucrezia sips her beer a few more times between sentences.

Sometimes, she comes to bars without anything in mind at all. Sometimes, it's simply the least boring way to spend a few hours.

[kousei ♚]

"Or maybe I was just bored," she begins and I find myself taking another sip as she speaks. It begins to become routine, taking a sip at the end of my speech and the beginning of hers. "I like alcohol, I just don't like getting drunk. There's a difference," she explains and I only nod my head. I suppose she's right, and besides waking up with a girl beside you, there is no easy way to deal with a hangover I've learned. Much to the pain of myself and other careers.

"And what about you? Was there anything you were looking for?" She asks.

I stop tracing my fingers across the table, moving to lightly tapping it and shrugging my shoulders in return. "Well, sometimes I don't know what I'm looking for until it's staring right at me." I say under the false pretense of innocence. "I mean, don't you ever get that sometimes?"

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

Alexander shrugs and drums his fingers instead of running them along the counter. "Well, sometimes I don't know what I'm looking for until it's staring right at me," he says; Lucrezia catches the suggestiveness in his voice and blushes, wishing that the dim lighting of the bar would hide the intensity of the new color in her fair skin. "I mean, don't you ever get that sometimes?"

She emits a slight laugh and drinks from her beer again. "Yeah, sure I do," she says. "Every once in a while." Lucrezia tries to sound nonchalant when she speaks, and manages a slight smile. Her heartbeat is thumping in her chest, faster and faster every moment, and butterflies shift in her stomach. It's hard not to feel this way in front of such a pretty face, though.

[kousei ♚]

It's a pretty sight, the way her cheeks flush with the color of the setting sun at every thinly veiled compliment and flirtatious comment I make. It's tough to hide, especially in a place like this, but she doesn't seem to be making much of an effort. I've been shown this dance, pushed into it by friends who treat it as a right of passage; a proof of my masculinity they call it. Spin a few words, give a few winks, leave behind a few compliments -- it's easy. It's not a dance I practice often but it's one I'd like to think I do well.

Her laughter is music to my ears, a weighted anchor and chain in the space between us, holding us together with nothing but two beers and ourselves to keep us company. In this moment, everyone may as well be faded background noise. "Yeah, sure I do," and the only noise that matters is the noise that comes from between her lips. "Every once in a while."

Movement automatic, my hand moves up towards her face and the dark locks tangle with my fingers as I brush her hair to the side and my hand just stays. "Sorry, your hair was just... in the way." I say, eyes locking with mine.

I'm a man of winter and I'll always make something great from the death of summer.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

Her eyes automatically widen as his hand moves closer to her face, but she doesn't recoil. Alexander brushes away a strand of her black hair that was dangling in front of her eye, but when it's tucked back behind her ear, his hand remains. "Sorry, your hair was just . . . in the way." Despite the butterflies pounding against her stomach, Lucrezia welcomes his touch. Alexander's skin isn't coarse like she expected, but rather smooth and warm. Her cheeks flame pink again and she laughs ever so slightly, just half of a giggle. She's too nervous to let herself really laugh.

"That . . ." she pauses as she gathers her words, "is an old move, you know." Her voice is soft but playful. Lucrezia isn't entirely sure what she wants to get out of this, but she knows that she doesn't want to stop — whatever this is.

[kousei ♚]

She doesn't recoil in horror when my hand replaces the strand of her dangling on her face. She just smiles and she just lets it, letting herself be carried away by the waves within the flow and I do the same, letting the flow within my rapid pulse take me and covering myself losing myself within the moments I feel stronger than winter's roar. Moments like this when it's easy to ignore the way my stomach ties into knots at the glint in her eye. "That . . ." in the moment she pauses, the two of us are air, "is an old move, you know."

I swear, I almost collapse into a burst of laughter. Instead I smile, surprised I even allowed myself to breathe at the risk I shatter the fragile moment of tension between us. "What can I say?" I whisper bringing myself closer. "I've always had a thing for the classics."

Her lips against mine remind me of the long dead summer.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

He smiles and says, "What can I say?" ever so innocently. He inches closer to her, and she can see the intention in his eye. "I've always had a thing for the classics."

Lucrezia moves about a centimeter forward, not wanting to be too obvious; she's never been one to make a first move. She may be bold on the battlefield, but almost never during conversation, if that's what this could be called. "R-right, the classics," she says, her gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips.

There's a little flame that has sparked in her and she feels her body go hot all over. She's never fared well with the heat, but she hopes this time will be an exception.

[kousei ♚]

There's a moment of hesitation for a split second and she stutters and by the way her skin burns bright red and she hesitates I conclude it's nerves. Strange, considering how confidently she caught my falling drink with expert precision and the confidence of a career. "R-right, the classics," and her gaze flickers between my eyes and my jaw. It reminds me of my first time, the effort it took to string a coherent sentence, the hesitation and the impulsive urge to ask 'is this okay?'

I've grown since then, experience and confidence taught wonders.

I run my hand through her hair, silky sift, sweeping my fingers through the shoulder length locks and to the back of her hair and I just stop and let it. "Yeah." I manage, voice sounding much quieter than I intended but I decided it doesn't matter. I bring my other hand up her waist, running my hands over until they come to a rest on her jaw.

Her burning skin reminds me of spring.

I bring her lips to mine and nothing else matters in this weightless moment. Time stops.

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

l u c r e z i a .

Alexander runs his fingers through my hair and my eyes lock with his — and it's like his gaze is pulling me in. "Yeah," he says quietly. His eyes are also pretty and dark and she can see her own reflection in them. His hand is running up Lucrezia's side from her hips to her jaw, and she just lets it happen because she likes the way his hand feels on her body.

Before she can say anything, his lips are on hers and then she lets herself go, lets herself be lost in the moment. Alexander's lips are so soft, like his voice, like velvet, and she returns the kiss, moving her lips against his and placing her hand on his side to pull him closer. Alexander tastes like beer, but she doesn't mind — it isn't too bitter or overwhelming, and she's sure that she tastes the same way. Her heart is like a bird fluttering in a cage — thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

Lucrezia can feel her skin burning as the fire inside her core spreads to her fingertips.