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

She waited until the atmosphere of the room changed, the live music changing to a tune more appropriate for ballroom dance. Ysonna's veins buzzed with nervousness as she made her way through the crowd towards Naomi, who was speaking contently with several lords and ladies. Cassien stood beside her like a silent guard, though his face was unusually relaxed as the group spoke in open calmness and ease. It made Ysonna's jaw twitch to see them so easily swayed by her petty charms and looks. She waited patiently until a lull in the conversation opened, taking the opportunity to slip in. Ysonna gave a polite bow to the small circle of lords and ladies in greeting, though she was unable to help herself to smile brightly at Cassien first. She turned a sharp eye to Naomi, whose heart-shaped face was framed with soft curls from her hair pulled in an elegant updo.

"Duchess Rosenthorn," Ysonna said, forcing her voice to be light and composed. "You look lovely tonight."

Naomi offered a courteous smile - if she was surprised by Ysonna's sudden approach, she did a good job hiding it. "Thank you, Lady Archfeld. The same to you - your dress looks lovely."

"Oh, this old thing?" Ysonna deflected, angling her sapphire dress slightly to show off. "It's nothing like yours - so very delicate and youthful. Our northern fashions simply can't compare to Monroe's styles."

One of the western women laughed in response. "For all we've criticized about the south, fashion certainly was not one of them."

"Exactly, thank you Lady Oxford," Ysonna said with a soft laugh. "I'm glad someone agrees."

There was a glint in Ysonna's eyes that didn't quite reach her smile, though Naomi pretended not to notice it. Cassien shifted ever so slightly, caught off guard at Ysonna of all people, speaking pleasantly to Naomi.

He cleared his throat. "Is there something we can help you with, Lady Archfeld?"

She felt her skin flush ever so slightly at the mere sound of Cassien's deep voice being directed towards her, unable to stop herself from turning to him. Ysonna's eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessarily, lost in the admiration of his looks before shaking her head.

"I apologize if I'm interrupting, Your Grace," she responded. "Actually, I did have a favor to ask of the duchess."

"Oh?" Naomi's brows lifted slightly.

The eyes of the circle zoomed in on Ysonna, and she was all too aware that no mistakes could be made with this many witnesses now. She had to be exact, careful, and purposeful.

"I heard some rumors that Her Grace performed at the spring dance, that her skills are that of a floating butterfly," Ysonna let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I confess I'm hopeless at dancing, and wondered if perhaps you could show me a few steps?"

A few nobles mumbled amongst themselves in interest at Ysonna's request, though she caught Cassien's golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly. For a moment, she felt her hands sweat, her stomach squeezing in a tight knot at his scrutinization.

Ysonna forced herself to smile brightly at Naomi. "And if I may be so honest - I truly think that it's time the North and South set aside our differences. Let us show the people that we may work collaboratively with a public dance - and what better timing than during the Accord."

Naomi's expression didn't falter, though she tipped her head slightly. "I would love to give you some advice, my lady, but you should know that I'm not an instructor - I wouldn't want you to pick up on any of my bad habits."

Oh, shut up, you humblebrag, Ysonna sneered inwardly.

Ysonna batted her lashes, clasping her hands together. "Nonsense; your skills are unparalleled from what I've heard. And I thought you would be the best person to approach, what with your reputation for kindness; I know you wouldn't hold my northern roots against me."

There was a polite murmur of agreement from the lords and ladies. "What a mature way of thinking, Lady Archfeld. You've grown quite wise beyond your years."

Ysonna hid a small smile behind her eyes, knowing that she had pushed Naomi into a corner. If she refused, she would look like a petty lady who couldn't even stand a single dance with a northerner, despite the budding alliance between the two regions. If she accepted, then her plan would commence as expected. Either way - Ysonna was getting rid of the southern fraud tonight.

Naomi hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough that Ysonna felt the smugness in her chest. The duchess smiled as she held out a white-gloved hand, composure unfazed. "Then I'd be honoured to dance with you, Lady Archeld. You're right - this would set a wonderful example for everyone watching."

Ysonna's lips curled up, taking her hand. The heat of her palm felt like a disgusting serpent, her skin crawling as if it were curling up her arm. "Thank you, Duchess. My lords and ladies, if you could excuse us."

Cassien watched with a guarded look, armed crossed, as the two women walked away together to the centre of the room. Ysonna held back every urge to acknowledge him, but even from here she could feel the heat of his stare at the back of her head.

Just wait, Ysonna thought, her heart fluttering. You'll see her exactly for who she is.

The music swelled in the beginnings of a waltz as the two women took their places at the centre of the floor, the eyes of the courts fixated like predators hiding in the bushes at the unexpected pairing. The northerners watched with curiosity, though they primarily kept their thoughts to themselves. The southerners were a different tale altogether - they held their heads high, lips curled in open disdain at the sight of their duchess touching the filth of a northern lady.

"Look at her - like doing charity work," one lady scoffed.

"As if she could ever keep up with a lady of Monroe," another snickered. "Duchess Rosenthorn surely will teach her a thing or two about humility."

Still, they watched in captivation as a handful of other couples joined the floor, beginning the dance with regal gestures. Naomi met Ysonna's gaze as she offered a reassuring smile, herself acting as the lead dancer to step just in tune with the first note. She didn't need to say a word to Ysonna as her body conveyed every cue needed to keep up - a gentle turn of her elbow, a swift sweep of the hip as they rounded - her every movement full with sincerity and intent to teach. Naomi kept her movements quick enough to match the beat of the orchestra, but slow enough so that Ysonna would not be left behind.

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But to her surprise, Ysonna's movements were practiced and poised, much more than she would've expected from a self-proclaimed novice dancer. She matched Naomi's rhythm seamlessly without falter or lag, and the two women swirled around the room like two blooming lilies floating across the sky. Naomi's brows pinched together; something wasn't right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on Ysonna's intentions. The melody of the waltz picked up in urgency as they continued their sway, a low murmur of approval rising from the crowd as they watched in fascination.

As the music rose to its highest crescendo that signaled for the lead's flourishing move, Naomi began to lift herself; but to her surprise, Ysonna abruptly pivoted in a sweep that pressed Naomi away, reversing their positions. With a flick of her wrist, Ysonna spun herself in perfect rotation, her dress fanning out in lush attention as she forced Naomi into the follower's role. The court watched, hooked, as the southern duchess was outmaneuvered in the span of a single step by the northern lady claiming the waltz's flourish. Naomi felt her jaw tighten slightly as she reclaimed her lead expertly by pulling Ysonna back into step, though she kept her face as relaxed as possible as the two leaned in closely.

"I'm so sorry," Ysonna whispered, her eyes wide with innocence. "I got caught up in the music - the twirl was meant for you, right?"

"No harm done," Naomi murmured back, biting back the sting of suspicion. "You're much better than you let on."

Ysonna laughed breathlessly, her brown eyes lowering. "You flatter me, Your Grace."

She could feel every pair of eyes in the room watching her with utmost attention, wondering if the duchess would retaliate. The dance swept through several more turns with Ysonna remaining in her following position, blood rushing hot in her veins at the signature moment: the dip. Naomi shifted her hand securely to the small of Ysonna's back just as the music dropped a low beat, preparing to lower the lady ever so slightly in a trusting dip.

This is it, Ysonna thought, bracing herself. She caught her mother's black hair emerging from the edge of the crowd.

As Naomi initiated the dip, Ysonna shifted her weight, forcing her body back in a dramatic stumble as if Naomi had sabotaged the movement. Her hand reached for Naomi's arm as if to catch herself, though she purposefully pushed it away as if the duchess shoved her downwards. Ysonna's body sprawled as her heels squeaked showstoppingly across the polished floors, letting a high pitched yelp out from deep within her. The music halted instantaneously as the crowd's collective breath caught at the sight.

A hush fell over the ballroom as everyone's gaze remained fixated at the scene. Naomi stood in a frozen pose, her mouth open in shock as Ysonna pressed a trembling hand against her chest.

Naomi broke out from her trance as she reached out. "Lady Archfeld, are you all right?"

To her shock, Ysonna flinched, pulling her body out of reach. "Duchess, I… I apologize for misstepping earlier! But… to think you'd push me…"

A ripple of uneasy murmurs moved through the crowd as they exchanged looks of disbelief and disappointment. Cassien's eyes darkened as he began to stride towards the women, though not before a voice rang out from the crowd.

"Ysonna! My dearest, are you hurt?" Marchioness Fiona swept forward, her deep purple skirt fluttering as she knelt beside her daughter, expression feigned with maternal concern.

The Marchioness's brown eyes steeled on Naomi, her voice dripping with venom. "Did you enjoy humiliating my child in front of the entire court, Your Grace?"

"Mother-" Ysonna pouted in fabricated embarrassment.

"Hush, my sweet girl," Fiona swept her hair from her eyes before turning her attention back to the duchess. "What do you have to say for yourself?!"

Naomi was momentarily speechless before forcing out a steady voice. "I would never dream of intentionally humiliating or harming anyone. Lady Ysonna, I am so-"

"It certainly didn't look accidental from where I was standing," Fiona tightened her hold around Ysonna, whose eyes began to swell with fake tears. "I find it difficult to believe that such a skilled dancer such as yourself could make such a mistake… unless it was intentional."

The crowd's whispers grew sharp - some with skepticism, others frowning with disdain. The tension was palpable and strained, and Naomi's cheeks burned as she held her ground. She felt so foolish at the realization of the setup; Ysonna's sudden request, her dancing skills far superior than expected, and now this. Before she could speak, she felt Cassien's presence appear from beside her. His eyes searched hers questioningly for just a moment, as if he already knew her answer.

"Duke Rivain," Fiona let out a relieved breath. "Thank goodness-"

"Lady Archfeld, are you able to stand?" he cut off the marchioness, his expression inscrutable as he remained standing.

She nodded weakly, fluttering her glistening lashes. "My ankle… it feels swollen." Ysonna blinked up at him, her heart hammering at the sight of his effortlessly tousled black hair. "Your Grace, would you… be able to carry me?"

Every ear in the room strained forward for his answer as Ysonna's mind blurred to an old memory: Calypsa's garden, a twisted ankle, and the thrill of being swept up in Cassien's arms. He had been untouchable then as he was now, but she re-lived that memory a thousand times since time, hoping that it would happen again with an even greater ending - this time, with the entirety of court as their romantic witness.

He regarded her in silence before speaking, his voice low, devoid of warmth. "If you cannot stand, then we will call for a physician."

The silence was so sharp and blunt at the same time that it could've shattered glass and exploded marble. Ysonna's body froze as the fantasy in her mind abruptly cut, and even Fiona's body stiffened at his refusal.

"Y-Your Grace," Fiona stuttered. "You won't even see to my daughter's health personally?"

"Why should I?" Cassien said, one brow lifted in icy indifference. "She is not the one I am courting."

"Cassien," Naomi said softly, touching his shoulder. "She got hurt because of me."

His face was as composed as ever. "If she really did get hurt, the royal physicians are more than sufficient to care for her."

Fiona's grip tightened, and Ysonna held back a yelp of pain. "Surely Your Grace could spare a modicum of sympathy - the duchess punished my daughter severely for a minor mistake - with public humiliation, no less - and yet you take her side?"

Ysonna, cheeks burning, tried to interject as she watched Cassien's face twist with something resembling anger. "Your Grace, I- I did not mean to cause trouble."

He looked at the lady with cold eyes. "And neither did the duchess, which I'm certain of. Let's not insult each other's intelligence by pretending that this wasn't a calculated effort."

Interest at his words rumbled throughout the crowd, with some nodding their head in agreement at his words. Obviously, not everyone fell for the act as Ysonna and Fiona thought they would have.

Ysonna swallowed a deep breath as panic set in. "Please, let's just forget this ever-"

"Ysonna," Her mother snapped. "That southern bitch did that on purpose to make you look bad!"

The Marchioness's words echoed across the room, and as if it were an immediate effect, several nobles took a step back at the sudden change in the atmosphere. Cassien's jaw tightened, his golden eyes flaring at the accusation, aura cold with fury. He took a step forward, the full weight of his presence bearing down on the marchioness.

"Careful with your words. I will not tolerate anyone insulting Naomi - who is my partner and my chosen - regardless of their opinions on the Monroe nation." His eyes narrowed into slits. "You and everyone else will show her the respect she is due, both as a leader and as a person."

A murmur of shock, admiration and awe rippled through the court at his public declaration. Fiona, silenced and face pale, looked as if she'd been slapped.

Cassien gave one last look at Ysonna. "Lady Archfeld, you have my sympathy for your injury. But if you or your mother insist on this accusation, I promise you both will find neither pity nor patience from me."

Ysonna's vision blurred with tears - this time, genuine and unending - as Cassien turned away, his hand extended for Naomi. The whispers and stares of every attendant in court felt magnified a thousand times, and Ysonna felt smaller than she ever had in her entire life. The quiet hope that Cassien would one day finally choose her, crumbled to ashes with each step he took. He did not look back a single time as he led Naomi away on his arm with a tenderness that Ysonna had so desperately wanted her entire life - and now knew she would never have.