How To Love Your Archnemesis [Romance/Drama/Fantasy - Completed]

Naomi stormed into her chambers like a gust of wind and slammed the door with enough force to make the hinges rattle. The sharp thud echoed through the room, delicate decorations rattling against its surfaces.

Cressida, who had been holding one of Naomi's dresses in front of her chest as she daydreamed in front of the mirror, yelped, throwing the garment in the air. "She's not here!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest. "Naomi's not here!"

Naomi strode directly for the dresser as Cressida turned, letting out a heave of relief. "Oh, good, it's just you. I thought you were the mistress."

Naomi gave her a wild, silent look.

"What? My lady, what's wrong?" Cressida rushed to Naomi's side, who was beginning to fumble through the wardrobe messily.

She felt stupid explaining even to kindly Cressida that she was flustered because her own parents complimented her a single time.

"Nothing's wrong," Naomi muttered, yanking open a drawer a little too hard.

"Nothing…?" Cressida blinked, grabbing her friend's hands from fumbling in the dresser. "My lady… I just folded these."

Naomi turned away, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair as she fidgeted while Cressida sought for the cloak and plain dress herself. "It's nothing. The council ended. I was leaving. Then… my parents stopped me."

"Oh?" Cressida tilted her head. "And?"

"They said I did well. They were proud. Well, they didn't say proud, not exactly," Naomi added quickly. "But it was implied."

Silence filled the room as Cressida held the plain blue dress in front of her, her green eyes confused. "You're flustered because your parents complimented you?"

Naomi groaned and let herself fall backwards onto the plush bed, wishing the mattress would engulf her. "I told you it was stupid."

"No! Sorry, it's not stupid," Cressida said gently, as she sat beside her and rubbed Naomi's shoulder in small circles. "Just… sweet. Like a deer learning the forest isn't full of only wolves."

Naomi turned onto her belly, covering her face with a pillow while Cressida continued. "I guess now that I think about it, the Duke and Duchess aren't really known for their praises. Not that I'm criticizing them!" The maid's round face flushed at her realization that she was badmouthing her masters in front of their own daughter. Naomi hadn't noticed in her haze, or likely even cared.

"That's an understatement. They might as well have been born with a pen in one hand and a performance review in the other," she replied in a muffled voice.

"Well… On the bright side, at least you know they're capable of it?" Cressida meekly offered. Naomi gave her a small smile at her attempted comfort before taking a deep breath.

She steeled herself as she sat up. "Okay. Enough pity time. The council took longer than expected so I have less time to make it down."

Cressida shot up at attention. "Yes, my lady!"

She changed quickly out of her classically beautiful dress into a plain blue cotton dress with the help of Cressida. Heels for loafers, jewelry for a cloak. Cressida snuck her head out of the bedroom first, scanning for passersby before she signaled for Naomi to come out. The two of them moved quickly down the hall towards the servants' stairs with Cressida leading, who screeched to a halt as she pushed Naomi back against a wall. One, two, three. Her friend gripped her wrist once more as they propelled forward once the guest had passed. They passed a few serfs unchecked down the stairs before exiting the quarters with relative ease, making it out to the side courtyard that connected with a descending path down the hill. Naomi felt a spark of hope.

"Okay, let's act natural," Naomi breathed slowly as she straightened her posture.

Cressida nodded as the two fell into step together, nonchalantly walking out the side gates that looped around the fencing. As they reached the bottom of the hill with the stone bridge in full view, Naomi briefly turned her head back at the landscape of Calypsa Castle as they walked, her heart squeezing at her first act of defiance as each step took her further from her mother's orders. The castle's stone architecture was bathed in a warm golden light, the ancient flag of the nation flying pridefully in the air. Palm trees and vibrant bougainvillea lined the winding pathways, their colors deepening in the fading daylight. The air was filled with the gentle hum of cicadas as if they were applauding their escape.

Naomi felt a tug on her cloak as Cressida gasped. "My lady. The bridge is blocked."

Two guards stood firm at the foot of the stone bridge, spears crossed, their armor glinting in the dying light. Between them stood a third figure - tall, unmistakable, and seething with quiet anger. Naomi tried to pull the two of them back before they were noticed, but it was as if her mother had a third eye. Immediately, their eyes locked.

The Duchess.

Naomi came to a full stop, her pulse roaring in her ears. Cressida stiffened beside her, instinctively dipping her head as if she could vanish into the ground. Naomi didn't move.

Her mother's voice cut through the air as she approached. "Going somewhere?"

Naomi's stomach dropped. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.

"The lantern festival is quite a sight to see each year. You agree, do you not? Since you have asked in the past to attend."

Her question was rhetorical, and Naomi simply braced herself for the lecture of a century. Naomi slowly shifted her body in front of the trembling Cressida, as if she could shield her from the Duchess's rage.

"In fact, I had decided after your skillful tactic at the council room that I would grant your request tonight," her mother continued in a cold tone. "So you could imagine my surprise when I came to your empty chambers and attire carelessly set aside."

Naomi's breath caught. She blinked, once.

"I…" Her voice faltered under the weight of her mother's gaze. "You were going to let me go?"

The Duchess's expression remained unmoved. "You had made me proud for a fraction of time in that council," she almost hissed, each word shaped like ice. "But it seems I was a fool to consider that you would be worthy of such an emotion. Your actions shame not our family; just yourself."

Naomi swayed slightly, as if the blow had been physical. Her throat tightened, and for a single moment, her eyes burned.

The Duchess's gaze shifted, sharp and calculating, to the trembling handmaid. "Step forward, Cressida."

"Mother-"

"I am not speaking to you," her mother's words cut through Naomi like a sword. "Do not make me repeat myself, maid."

Naomi could not let her friend take the fall for her own want. She forced every ounce of courage left in her body to bring her hand back, stopping her. "This was my decision. Cressida was only following my orders. If you're going to punish someone, let it be me."

The Duchess tilted her head ever so slightly. "What makes you think I would not punish you regardless?"

Naomi said nothing. Her hand remained firmly planted in front of Cressida, her back straight and chin up. If she was going to defy her mother, she might as well do it with poise. After all, the one thing her mother could respect was not simply courage, but boldness.

For a long, chilling moment, the Duchess considered her.

"Then both of you will learn the price of disobedience," she said at last. Her voice was calm, but final. "The maid is confined to her quarters without duty or privilege until I decree otherwise. And you, Naomi, will remain locked in your chambers for the remainder of the summit. No council. No gardens. No books. No light past sundown."

Cressida let out a strangled sound of protest, but Naomi merely nodded, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

The Duchess gave a brief nod to the guards. "Escort them."

The guards approached as the Duchess strode past Naomi, but not before stopping to whisper the last word. "Better luck next year."

**

The door shut with a heavy finality, the iron bolt sliding into place like a jailor's gavel. Naomi flopped backwards onto her bed, her body numb. She didn't know how long she laid there, flickering through the events repeatedly.

The silence was unbearable.

Cressida had been dismissed to the servant's quarters, her months' pay docked for cooperating in the scheme. The windows had been latched. Her books were removed, even the ones Cressida had tucked under the pillows. Only the dim light of a single oil lamp flickered near the desk, casting mocking shadows that swayed along the walls. Outside, she could hear distant revelry - the soft boom of festival, laughter carried on the wind, the distant remnants of music crawling through stone. She buried her face in her hands and exhaled sharply, trying not to cry, because Rosenthorns did not cry.

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Naomi's fists clenched together as she sat up, pulling her face into her knees. It wasn't fair to be punished for wanting to finally do some of her own accord for once. A quiet refusal - a desperate anger - that she normally kept so perfectly controlled under silk gloves and a neutral face, stirred deeply within her as she felt herself snap. She was an heir to a duchy. She was the sole inheritor of the powers of Light. Why should she be bound? Her punishment couldn't get any worse than what life already was.

Naomi took a deep breath, then held her hands out in front of her. She closed her eyes, focusing on her magic with ease. The tips of her fingers began to glow, warmth spiraling through her veins. The air shimmered faintly, as if the room were holding its breath.

She turned to the balcony door.

She marched towards it, reaching for the metal latch and squeezing tightly. Almost immediately, the cold metal seared a bright orange as it bubbled and cracked under the heat of her touch. A sharp snap echoed through the room as the latch gave way with a hiss, the radiant heat leaving behind a molten trail where her fingers had pressed. The air sizzled with the scent of hot metal before quickly being blown away by the humid air that rushed inwards; she was just barely able to catch the doors swinging open before they slammed against the wall.

Naomi slipped through the balcony door and stepped onto the stone of her private terrace. The sky was beginning to darken, and she could see the distant glow of Tudor's centre as the event was preparing. She had to hurry if she still wanted to make it. The scent of charred metal still clung faintly to her fingers as she gripped the railing with both hands and leaned forward, peering downwards and around her. The railings were curled with thick ivy that hung all the way down to the bottom. It wasn't the smartest plan - that much she recognized - a risky move that threatened serious injury if she fell; but she had already broken one rule tonight. What was one more?

She reached down, fingers curling around the thick braid of ivy that trailed down the stone and tugged. Naomi swung one leg over the balustrade, then the other. With her hands gripping the railing for support, she gently tested her weight as she placed her feet against the knotted stems; it was gnarled enough from age and humidity that it would support her small frame if she was careful. She held her breath as she began to descend, focusing purely on her breath and grip.

The hem of the cotton dress snagged awkwardly, causing small tears, and she barely noticed the small cuts that dotted along her exposed skin from touching the rough vines. She paused, her chest heaving softly as she forced her vision downwards. Halfway there before she would be on the solid surface of another terrace. Hopefully no one was home. As Naomi began to move once more, one of the braids under her left foot made a horrifying ripping sound as it weakened.

Rationality suddenly jolted her as the recklessness of her actions began to seep in, as did the panic at her predicament. Her body froze, trembling as her heartbeat pounded against her ribs. The ground still felt impossibly far, but so did returning upwards in defeat. Her fingers, scraped and raw, dug harder into the vines, her limbs shaking with the weight of hesitation. But less than several seconds later, the decision was made for her as the sound of footsteps below approached. Naomi flinched at the sudden noise of the terrace door swinging open below her. Panic flooded her chest.

No, no, no!

She twisted awkwardly as her hands fumbled upwards, her feet scrambling for any semblance of leverage. If she could just pull herself back-

The moment she shifted her weight, a terrible sound tore through the silence.

Snap.

The ivy gave way beneath her left foot. She gasped as her body dropped, her other foot losing its hold as the gnarled vines tore free in a cascade of green flora and branches.

With nothing beneath her but air and failure, Naomi fell.

Naomi braced for impact as the air rushed past her ears, hoping at least that whichever poor soul she was about to crush would not suffer severe injuries.
She hit something solid, but it was not stone.

Strong, steady arms caught her as her front slammed into their chest, body tightening instinctively around her waist as they staggered backwards slightly from the force of her gravity. The scent of something distinctively masculine and comforting filled her nose as her hands clutched helplessly at the lapels of a navy suit. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she pulled back to take in the sight of black hair, golden eyes; the shocked look of Cassien Rivain who was mere inches away from her face.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke; just the two of them frozen in the middle of the terrace, the hiss of torn ivy drifting down around them like confetti.

"I-" Naomi choked, eyes wide as her face bloomed brighter than any rose. What could she even say to excuse how she got here? As if her family's nemesis would even care?

His gaze moved over her reddened face like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened - of why the Southern heir was falling into his arms from the night sky like some fevered dream.

Finally, he spoke first. "Do people of the South always make such a dramatic entrance?"

His words snapped her back to reality, at the fact that she had blundered so horrifically in front of her region's rival. Who knew what gossip or stories he would spread about her now?

"I didn't know this was your terrace," Naomi finally sputtered as she pulled back slightly. Her hands were still on his chest, and she hated that part of her noticed how warm and steady he was. "Please put me down."

Cassien did so slowly. "You're welcome, by the way," he murmured. "For not letting you crack your skull open."

Her face heated once more. No matter if it was unintentional or not, he did save her. "...Thank you."

She smoothed her dress before quickly running fingers through her hair to remove the remnants of torn ivy that floated in her silver-blonde hair. He stood wordlessly, watching her with heavy curiosity; she looked away out of embarrassment.

Cassien crossed his arms. "Is this why you were in such a hurry earlier? To sneak into my room?"

"Again, I didn't know this was your terrace," Naomi muttered, still not quite meeting his eyes. "Trust me, I wouldn't have chosen it."

Cassien arched a brow. "Clearly. You chose to fall instead."

She glared at him, crossing her arms. "I'm not in the mood to be mocked."

"That's unfortunate. Mockery is the North's primary language."

"And arrogance is your dialect, I assume?"

"Fluently spoken," He grinned, too handsome for her comfort. "Though you're not exactly struggling to keep up. Perhaps the South is more interesting than I originally thought."

Naomi stepped closer, arms crossed. "Is it common for Northern men to lurk under balconies waiting to catch damsels, or is it simply a quirk of your people?"

"So you're a damsel? Does that make me your northern knight in shining armour?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it. And you're not denying it."

"I was making a point."

"You were falling. Again, you're welcome."

Naomi let out a shaky laugh. "Well, if I had known I'd land in the arms of a Northern duke, I would've thrown myself in the opposite direction."

He smiled cockily. "And yet… here you still are."

She bristled at his audacity, ready to rebuke once more, but then turned her head slightly - as if just noticing the horizon - and stilled the words in her throat. Across the hills and rooftops of Tudor, the first lanterns were rising into the night. Dozens, then hundreds of paper lanterns began to burst from the city, casting golden orbs in the sky. The sound of distant music carried faintly on the breeze that she didn't have a chance to join in with. Her breath hitched without meaning to as she leaned forward against the railing. She was too late.

Cassien followed her gaze, this time his voice was softer. "Were you trying to reach the festival?"

She didn't answer, but the silence was enough. He read it on her face, or maybe in the way her fingers clenched the railing so tightly her knuckles went white.

"You know," he said after a beat, almost kinder. "There's a decent view from here. If you're not in a rush to fall off any more balconies."

"I didn't know Northerners were so humorous," Naomi said dryly, but she couldn't stop the corner of her lips from curling up. Cassien turned away before she could see the faint blush that crept on his cheeks.

Naomi hesitated. She should leave. There was no reason for her to stay in the light of his balcony, when she could simply take the walk of shame back upstairs to be inevitably caught once more.

Great plan, Naomi hissed at herself.

Yet from here… the lanterns were so close. They drifted up like heavenly sighs of sunlight from the lake, glowing against the darkening sky, as if the stars had chosen tonight to float a little lower.
Cassien cleared his throat as he moved to stand beside her. "You can stay until it ends, if you want. I'll even turn away to give you your privacy."

"It's… not about just watching it," Naomi started before stopping herself short. "...Nevermind. It's stupid."

"It's not," he said firmly.

She turned to him, searching for any semblance of mockery but only finding sincerity. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she spilled, unsure why something in her was willing to share such intimate details to someone she was supposed to hate. "I just… haven't ever been allowed out. I wanted to finally be able to do something I chose to do, rather than waiting for permission," she exhaled quickly, her chest slightly lighter. "It's such a beautiful sight."

He stayed quietly beside her as the two stood in silence, watching the now thousands of lanterns billow across the dark sky. Naomi couldn't even be bothered to look at his expression, whether or not he was mocking her words. But when he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful.

"You know…" he began, "I'm not sure why you need lanterns at all."

She blinked at him, not understanding.

"You possess the power of sunlight, do you not?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "You could just make your own light." It wasn't a line. He wasn't smirking. It didn't even sound like a compliment. Just a simple observation of the obvious.

Naomi could not stop the warmth that bloomed suddenly in her chest as she stared at him. "...I've never thought about it that way."

"Well, this is your chance."

Naomi hesitated before she raised both hands, allowing a light to bloom in her palms. With expert control, she morphed it into a soft, flickering orb no bigger than a plum, delicate and pulsing like a heartbeat. Cassien watched, entranced, never having seen the Rosenthorn's legacy power personally before. In the glow of her radiance, Naomi looked like a pure drop of sunlight and brilliance that took his breath away.

He watched her with intent curiosity as Naomi cradled the little orb in her hands; her pink lips parted slightly, leaning into the light with a whispered breath. She hesitated after, fingers still curled gently around the light. And then, before she could lose her nerve, she looked up at him.

"…Do you- " she began, then stopped and made a frustrated sound in her throat. "I mean, it's dumb. You don't have to."

He tilted his head in confusion. "I'm not familiar with the tradition."

Naomi puffed out her cheeks in cherry red embarrassment before she lifted the orb toward him, holding it up just below his chin with both hands. Her arms were bent at the elbow, framing his face, and her eyes couldn't quite meet his.

"If you want," she mumbled almost inaudibly. "You could say something to it, too. A secret wish. That's what they're for."

The orb trembled a little between them, caught in the space between two people who shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this, and yet couldn't seem to step away.

His mouth twitched in a small smile. "Is this a peace offering?"

"...Just do it before I throw it at you."

Cassien leaned forward with a crooked smile, his voice dropping low as his breath ghosted over her fingers, sending a tingle up her spine. "Careful. It might hear you."

He held her gaze as he whispered something into the light, quick and decisive. Part of her wanted to ask what a man of his caliber could possibly wish for, but she knew that was part of the allure of the tradition. Not to mention, it was a marvelous idea, though she'd never admit it to his face. With a soft push upwards, the orb began to ascend away, its own uniqueness reaching the heights of the stars. For a while, they stood in silence, shoulder to shoulder, watching the lanterns and their singular light drift higher into the sky. For the first time in her attendance at an Accord, Naomi felt a sense of peace and happiness.

Naomi tilted her head back, eyes reflecting the soft glow of thousands of wishes rising into the night before they disappeared into the atmosphere. Her lashes shimmered, her skin lit like sun-warmed ivory, and Cassien found himself watching her more than the sky. She caught him staring, but he didn't look away. In that quiet moment of shared intimacy, Naomi leaned her head just slightly to the side so it rested against his arm. Neither of them said a word.

But neither of them moved away.