“Man, you’re dressed?” Lace asked. “I’ve been in my pyjamas all day!”
“You didn’t get all dressed up for Love Day?” Erin asked with a wink.
“It’s- it’s Love Day?” Lace said embarrassedly. “Oh, i’m so sorry, Erin! I completely forgot.”
“That’s okay, you’ve given me enough flowers in this relationship.” Erin smirked, reflecting on all the different coloured stages she got through in the bachelorette challenge that won her her wife.
“True. I love you, Erin.” Lace said. Lace took her love into her arms and kissed her. At that moment, Meili and Genevieve both ran into the room, presumably playing tag. Meili’s eyes widened with shock and slight childhood disgust.
It had been a week since the wedding plans had been started and you were still working on Genevieve’s wedding gown. Her engagement dress was to be one of her mother’s old gowns modernized - it was a tradition in her country and so her dress was already prepared in advance… The night before the engagement party, Jan paid yet another visit to your room.
*knock knock knock* “…Princess?” You sighed as you padded over to the door and gave him a tired smile. “Hello Jan…and how many times do I have to tell you? The princess is no longer me, remember?“ You smiled sadly as he shook his head. “No, Princess! To me, you are the only one who should be his Highness’s bride!” His words touched your heart but…it was already too late. No matter what he said, or how much you tried to convince yourself, Joshua was marrying another woman…and there was nothing you could do about it…
Suddenly, Jan spoke up “I-I’m sorry Princess…but…I can’t leave this alone anymore…I MUST TELL HIM!” Leaving you with those words, he sprinted from your door, down the hall and straight to Joshua’s office.
You stood there, dumbfounded. “Wait…what…J-Jan!! No!!! Wait!” Bunching up your skirts, you hastily ran after him at a significantly slower pace. “Damn it…why did I have to listen to Genevieve and wear a dress today???” Sighing, you raced after him, or at least as fast as your dress and heels would allow you. Cursing yourself, you kicked your heels off, leaving them stranded in the middle of the hallway and quickened your pace, desperate to stop Jan.
Finally, you had reached the looming door…but it was already too late. Through a tiny crack, you heard Jan’s desperate voice. “….regained her memories Your Highness…” crap! you thought …but…I wonder what he thinks…? You edged slightly closer to the gap, hoping to hear Joshua’s reply but instead, you lost your balance, stepping on your long skirts and accidently pushed the door open, hurtling in as you tried to regain your posture, and landed right into Joshua’s arms.
You froze as the room filled with an awkward tension. It was silent. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you tried to get up. “S-Sorry Your Highness,” you mumbled as you straightened yourself in front of him. “_______?” He was choking with pain and confusion as he spoke. “You…remember?” you looked up from the floor at his words and immediately broke eye contact, looking away. “I-I…” He walked up to you and grabbed both of your shoulders, forcing you to meet the pained expression on his face. “You…remember?” he repeated, “…and you didn’t tell me?” All of a sudden, you felt yourself drown in your emotions and all the words just came tumbling out of your mouth. “I-I’m sorry Joshua! I wanted to tell you! I really did! But then you got engaged and I didn’t know what to do because I love you so much and I just wanted you to be happy! So the reason I didn’t say anything was because I didn’t want my feelings to burden you because you might love a different girl already!” Your flow of words was greeted with silence as he stared down at you blankly, seeming to be thinking intensely about something. You stared up at him with worry, terrified of what he was going to say. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke. “You’re right.” His words were as cold as ice and froze you to the spot. “It is a burden. It would’ve been better if Jan kept quiet about it because, you were right. I don’t love you anymore.” With that, he let go of your shoulders and turned away. “I love Genevieve now, and we are to be married. I hope, Miss. ________ that you can keep quiet about this. I wouldn’t want her to worry.” You felt your eyes prick with tears as you choked back your sobs. “…yes, Your Highness.” And fled from the room, feeling as if he had just brandished a machine gun and shot a million holes in your heart.
I’m gonna say they were paired up for a project. The blonde girl (Who I’m gonna name Moira) was a model who was going to wear a dress made by the brunette (Whose named Genevieve as of now) and they just fell into a pattern of banter and getting to know one another, finding things they had in common, talking about their passions, and generally a healthy relationship yes please thanks.
The best lover is someone you can consider a friend
The night of the engagement party - Joshua’s side of the story (narrated)
As he walked into the extravagant hall, Joshua sighed and plastered on his practiced smile. Feeling Genevieve loop her arm through his, he stiffened and couldn’t help but think that the only one allowed to do that…was you.
Entering in a flurry of flashes and smiles, Joshua looked around, waving at the odd person. Though the party was extravagant and grand, it looked painfully bland to him because you weren’t the woman next to him. He knew that you should’ve been the one he was entering with…but his own stupidity pulled the two of you apart.
Making his way to the stage, he spotted you instantly and felt his breath being taken away. You looked beatiful. The curled locks that fell past your shoulders, the subtle flower that hung from your neck…and your dress. It was an amazing outfit that he knew only you could pull off. Only you had kind enough features that could be paired with such dress without losing any of its beauty. Genevieve looked pretty, Of course she did, but none of that compared to you…and though you didn’t notice, he didn’t take his eyes off of you all night. As the King made his announcement, Joshua’s eyes were fixed to your face, the pain that he saw flashing behind your pupils stabbed at him. He subtly stared, zoning out from what was happening around him. It was only until he heard the chanting that he finally blinked back into reality. A kiss? With…HER? It wasn’t that Joshua didn’t like Genevieve, it was just that the thought of kissing another woman disgusted him. However, bracing himself, he nodded, knowing that it was his duty as an engaged Prince. So, forcing himself with all his might, he robotically turned to face Genevieve, pulling her close to him, desperately trying not to grimace.
As he drew near, he saw you out of the corner of his eye. You looked near tears. Pain showing clearly on your face. Wait, he longed to call out. D-Don’t go…please don’t go..I don’t love this woman. I will never love this woman…I will never love anyone as much as I love you… it took all his self control to keep from running through the crowd to stop you…but then you were gone. The heavy doors had been opened and shut. It was already to late…
Well, he thought, I suppose that’s it. She’s gone. It’s…officially…over. He squeezed is eyes shut in dread when…No…this isn’t right….I can’t do this… letting his eyes snap open at the last minute, Joshua planted a small peck on Genevieve’s cheek instead, earning protests from the onlooking audience and a look of confusion from his parents. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the crowd and said in a calm voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight to celebrate this joyous occasion. Please, do enjoy our vast display of food and drink. The dancing will begin soon.” Saying this, he calmly led Genevieve off the stage and, after leaving her to converse with other lady nobles, quietly escaped.
He sprinted down the deserted halls, desperately searching for the one face he yearned to see but, she was nowhere to be found. “Come on…where are you?!? …please…please still be here…”
You ran through the wilderness, thorns and nettles tearing at your skirts, sending rips through the thin material. Tears were blurring your vision but you continued on. You knew this place so well that you could’ve located it even if you were blindfolded. In no time, you reached the clearing and stopped.
Here it was. Your portal to the past. To the memories that were engraved into your heart. Here it was. Your house. The grand building was overflowing with flashbacks and you smiled bitterly as you pushed open the door, just as you had done so many times before. You looked around and shivered, seeing the thick layers of dust that covered all surfaces. It was as if it, and all the memories that it contained, had been tucked away, not forgotten, but not remembered either. Like a fond memory that could be turned to and remembered briefly in time. However, as you looked around, some things weren’t quite right. You could see shards of glass and pottery in small groups, dotting the room, as if someone had brought them crashing to the ground out of frustration, or anger. There were less books piled up on the tables, as if, whoever once had a passion for them had forgotten or even lost the motivation to read. There were little messages on post its, pressed against the wall. You circled the room and read things like, “I miss you.” “This is all my fault.” “I love you.” “Please come back.” “Don’t leave me all alone.” “I can’t live without you.” and it broke your heart. You hadn’t realised how much he had suffered…until now. Quietly, you made your way to your ghost of a room and looked around, remeniscing all the memories they held. The designs, the smiles, the jokes…but as your eyes rested on the centre, you were more than shocked to see the opened box. Gingerly, you stepped towards it. The letter and the riceball plushie that you remembered packing, was no longer there…in its place, at the very bottom of the dark pit, was a single note. [I’m sorry. It’s all my fault that your wish can’t come true…but I love you _________, and I always will.]
Valjean & Fauchelevent & Cosette, or any variation thereof, for the platonic Valentine's prompt?
“Sister Marguerite said that Saint Valentine was a martyr.” Cosette makes her pronouncement with all the solemnity of a miniature Sister of Perpetual Adoration, despite the daisies sticking every which way out of her hair. One of them gives way and falls down onto her nose. Father Fauchelevent picks it up with a hum and adds it his daisy chain.
“Yes, child,” says Jean Valjean.
Cosette considers this. “Martyr means he died.” Her eyebrows draw together in concentration. “Why did he die? Was he bad?”
“No,” says Jean Valjean with infinite gentleness. “He was good. Very good. Like your mother.”
Cosette squirms a little, as she always does when her Papa mentions her absent mother. “You didn’t say why though.” She looks pointedly at Father Fauchelevent, who laughs and pats her head. A few more daisies are displaced.
“Listen to our little scholar. Won’t take no for an answer!” Cosette pouts a little and Fauchelevent laughs again, even harder. “Valentine helped good Christians in love get married. Wasn’t allowed back then, so he got himself in trouble.”
Cosette digests this new information, biting her lip. “Does that mean it’s good to get married? Sister Genevieve said only sinners have to get married.” She pronounces the word “sinners” with care, as though it’s a word from another language she hasn’t quite mastered yet.
The two old men look at each other. Fauchelevent coughs. “Well, it’s good enough for some I suppose. Better to marry than to burn, eh?”
“But why would I-“ begins Cosette before Fauchelevent hurriedly cuts her off.
“What I’m saying is, it all comes down to love. Those as marry without love, well it don’t do them much good does it. And there’s plenty of love can be had without marrying, good and bad.”
“Hmmm,” says Cosette. She looks down picks a little at the hem of her dress. And then – “I don’t think Sister Genevieve likes love either. She looked mad when I said I loved you and Papa.” She looks back up at the two of them and lifts her chin in a defiant pose. “But I think it’s good.”
Jean Valjean closes his eyes and smiles deeply before kissing her forehead. Smiles come more easily to him these days. “Very good. The best thing in the world.”
Fauchelevent finishes his daisy chain off into a crown and drapes it on Cosette’s head. “That’s right, my girl! A fig for Sister Genevieve, and not one of my good ones neither.”
Cosette cries out in delight at the crown, feeling it with her hands. “Teach me! Teach me! I want to try!”
“Said you was a scholar!” says Father Fauchelevent approvingly. “Guess it’s time we teach you a trade. But your Papa has to join too. No idle hands here!”
Jean Valjean holds out his hand for a bunch of daisies. “I can help. I raised a sister and three nieces.” And somehow, that’s easier to say here too. The garden leeches some of the pain of the past away as he sits and helps another little girl deck herself out in flowers.