At the 'balls and baddies' prompt number three it's so good could we maybe get a second part? Maybe having the villain captured the hero ?
Based on this prompt list.
“And what do you think?” the villain asked the hero suddenly, with an oh-so-polite smile. Gaze intent.
The hero froze and floundered for a second as everyone turned to face them. “I think [hero’s name] is a menace that needs to be stopped.”
“Stopped how?” the villain asked pleasantly. “If you had your nemesis at your mercy, how would you proceed? What would you do to them?”
“I’d cut their head off and be done with it,” another villain proclaimed loudly. “None of that drawing it out and playing with your food.”
The villain’s eyes stayed on them, waiting.
The hero’s mouth had gone rather dry. Did they know? Would ‘kill them quickly’ lead to just that? “I’d keep them alive,” the hero said. “Make an example out of them.”
“And how would you do that?”
Why, oh why, did they feel like this was going to come back to bite them badly?
It did. It bit them hard as the villain asked them to dance – tugging them close because it wasn’t like they could reasonably say no without rousing suspicion.
The room twirled around them, and the villain’s lips pressed warm to the hero’s ear. “And what do you think,” the villain asked, “would happen to [hero’s name] if they were discovered at a party full of their enemies?”
The hero’s blood rushed through their head. Should they try and run? That would only draw attention to them. But if the villain told even one person who the hero truly was, that would bloody well draw attention to them too, wouldn’t it? Being murdered was very conspicuous. “I imagine,” they replied, “that it would be a blood bath. Very bad for these nice floors of yours.”
The villain’s arms tightened around them, a little too secure for comfortable dancing. “It’s not much of an example without an audience. Humiliate them in front of everyone, you said? Make sure they never dared question my power again, you said?”
In this room, it would probably be prime entertainment. There wasn’t a single person here who didn’t want to see them dead, mocked or grievously wounded.
“It was just an idea,” the hero kept their voice light. They eyed the exit over the villain’s shoulder, keeping their own voice low too. “I’m sure you have plenty of your own.”
“I do,” the villain said. “You see, I think that if I were [hero’s name] I would be begging to be taken into my sole custody.” The villain caressed their hand along the hero’s side, pulling back enough that their gazes locked. Pretences dropped. “Unless you’d prefer I very loudly expose your secret?”
“You’re not going to do that. You don’t like sharing and I’m not the begging sort.” The hero really, really hoped that the villain was possessive enough that this was the case.
“Pity,” the villain murmured with a small smile. Their hand moved up as the music drifted to an end, thumb brushing the hero’s lower lip. “It would look lovely on you. Are you sure I can’t convince you to do this nice and private? As you said, blood is horrible to mop up.”
It was tempting. The fact that it was tempting made the hero all the more furious, nauseated with themselves for even considering it. The fact that the brush of the villain’s fingers was as hypnotic as a snake-charmers only made it worse.
The hero jerked their head away, cheeks flushed and heart slamming. They dropped their arms to their sides and forced a pleasant smile. “Thank you for the dance.”
villain’s smile dropped and their eyes darkened.
They promptly and loudly revealed the hero’s identity.
The hero sprinted across the ballroom, shoving dancers out of the way in their scramble towards the door. Any door, any exit. They had to get out of here. An elbow in someone’s face, a punch, a crackle of power – but they were hopelessly outnumbered. They had to try.
They ended up wrestled to the floor, jeering and laughter ringing in their ears. Cheek pressed to the glossy ballroom floor, muscles taut as they strained and struggled to free themselves. Someone slammed their foot down hard on the back of the hero’s knee and the laughter turned louder as they cried out and went still. Panting for breath, vision fogging with pain.
The villain moved over, setting a chair down in front of them. “Help [hero’s name] onto their knees.”
After that blow, on their knees was the absolute last place they wanted to be. The hero was hauled up, cruel hands steadying on their shoulders. They must have passed out for a second there because they jolted back to a splash of champagne tossed in their face.
Nausea burned in their throat.
The villain held up a hand and the various suggestions and crows of the room fell silent.
Their gazes locked all over again, no smiles this time.
“Beg,” the villain said, softly.
The room around them bristled with excitement, blood lust, hatred still. Eager and watchful.
Forget a knee, the hero remembered the ideas of before. The examples, the mortification, the rendering of pieces.
room full of enemies - and currently there was only one way out.
Worst. Party. Ever.