Caramelinda Merengue is seventeen and Castle Candy is never quiet. The halls are constantly filled with the chatter and activity of a world that moves more quickly than she feels she will ever be comfortable in. She hides in the shadows, back against the walls watching, almost always uncertain.
Caramelinda does not fit in with the girls, the women, she is with. Rococoa commands every room she walks into, demands respect and people listen. Lazuli is always off somewhere, buried in a book studying some new way to bend magic to her will, a feat Caramelinda does not yet understand. Citrina is unendingly kind -- patient to a fault, and easy to get along with but not easy to know. Sapphria is still a girl - bright and troublesome, nothing like the princess she should be, and it makes Cara feel a little more at home, not that she can let herself admit it. Their brother Amethar is still a child, 12 and reckless - she envies all the things he is too young to understand.
One day, these people will be her family - now they are the strangers who hold her fate in their hands.
--
Sapphria Rocks is sixteen and Castle Candy is as much a prison as it is a palace. Her sisters, when they are within the walls of the castle are kind and over protective, but they mean well. Rococoa gives stern warnings with a gentle intent, Lazuli tries to tempt her with the magic she is learning to tame, Citrina reminds her that she will one day be a diplomat for the House of Rocks - all remind her that there are expectations she is destined to meet.
Caramelinda though, is quiet. She is a quiet reminder of the world outside the castle, the places Sapphria so longs to be, and she can’t be ignored. In these walls, she is muted, exhausted, lost - things Sapph can’t stand to see and plans to change.
--
Caramelinda Merengue is seventeen and she has not had fun since she set foot in Castle Candy. Her days are filled with classes, learning the history of the House of Rocks and how to conduct herself in Court as a member of the royal family. She longs for an escape. Longs to leave the walls of the castle and see the towns, the lands, she will have access to when she finally marries into the family; when she finally knows who she will marry.
She’s on her own, tucked away in the back corner of an underused banquet hall when she hears someone calling her name. For a moment, she tries to make herself small, unnoticeable, but there is nowhere to hide; instead, she straightens her shoulders and turns to be Caramelinda, Dutchess of the House Merengue, soon to be Princess of the House of Rocks, and is shocked to see the youngest princess staring at her eyes bright and grin wide.
“Cara-” Sapphria stops herself suddenly, making a face Caramelinda can’t quite read, “Cara, we are getting out of here.”
“Princess Sapphria,” Caramelinda tucks her fingers between the pages of her book and relaxes a little. “What?”
The princess’s comment catches her off guard; she’s not quite surprised that Princess Sapphria is the one making this offer, but she isn’t sure how she should react. This could be a way into the family’s inner circle, away from the periphery where she has been sitting for the majority of her stay, but it could also be a trick meant to get her in some sort of trouble.
“Caramelinda Merengue, you heard me. We are getting out of here.” The younger girl offers a crooked grin and extends a hand, “You don’t need to call me Princess. You’ve met my sisters, I’m never going to be Queen, I don’t want the title.” The ease Sapphria says this with is startling, but Caramelinda holds her tongue.
She glances at the hand being offered and at the girl offering, and weighs her options. The title princess is heavy on her tongue, but she swallows it down, pulling her hand from her book and resting it flat on the table. She searches Sapphria’s eyes for some sign of trickery, and finds nothing. “Why ‘we’? Why don’t you just go on your own?”
Sapphria takes a single step closer but doesn’t make any move to force her into a choice. This close (and they haven’t been this close before, Caramelinda would remember that) she’s beautiful, red eyes wild and hoping for a challenge, hair clearly up for days too caught in her own mischief to pay attention to it. She is a hurricane waiting to happen, and taking her hand would be volunteering to be taken directly into the storm.
“Easy,” and the grin is wider, “It’ll be more fun with you by my side.”
Without another question, Caramelinda grabs Sapphria’s hand, and is swept up into her.
--
It becomes a habit - sneaking off with Sapphria. The court has yet to announce who Caramelinda is to wed, and Caramelinda has become more comfortable with not knowing; in the same breath, she’s grown more comfortable with Sapphria at her side. There are seldom days they are not caught somewhere they shouldn’t be: in the kitchen making a mess of the day’s meal, in the garden running through freshly planted flowers picking their favorites as they go, sneaking into rooms they aren’t supposed to know how to unlock.
“Come on!” Sapphria giggles, fingers tightening around Carmelinda's as they run. She looks wild like this, like she could take on the world by herself and conquer the war that is brewing far away without the help of an army. They run past the training grounds where Amethar charges someone with a wooden sword, doing his best to be scary at all of twelve, past the shrine to the Sweetening Path Citrina won’t address, up into Sapphria’s quarters, “I have a plan. An adventure of sorts.”
She says this like there’s something Caramelinda will say no to. All the nerves and uncertainty of that first day have vanished, Sapphria is more home than this palace is, “Sapph, whatever it is, I’ll probably say yes.”
--
The clearing is quiet; far enough from Castle Candy that the general commotion can’t reach them, lost in a world that’s allowed to just be the two girls. Sapph is leaning over the neck of her meep, gentle fingers running over its beak, watching Caramelinda laugh at a joke she told on the ride here. In the midday light, Cara is radiant, the quiet reserved girl she was when she arrived all but a memory.
Not much has changed here in the years since Sapph had been here with her sisters. In the distance, the castle was visible through the trees, pink tower tops offering an imposing shadow in the (summer) sun. In the distance there is a stream she and her sisters used to play in while the King and Queen sat with amused laughter across their faces. Carefully felled trees had been made into benches that were now overgrown with purple candy grass, and tiny gummy mushrooms.
The area evokes a warmness that Sapphria has missed, a familiarity that has grown distant as she and her siblings have grown older and apart.
With a brief shake of the memories out of her head, Sapphria jumps off her meep and lands gracefully, flipping her braids over her shoulder. Wandering over to Caramelinda, she grins and offers a hand to help her off her mount with a deep, comical bow.
“Alright, we’re here,” Cara manages through stifled giggles, “what’s the big adventure?”
“Okay, hear me out-,” The older girl raises an eyebrow, “the adventure was sneaking out and riding here.”
“Sapph, do you really not have a plan?”
“We can make our own adventure here! There’s a creek. And,” she looks around quickly, “we could fashion swords out of fallen branches. We’ll make our own adventure! The world is ours out here!”
She drops Caramelinda’s hand and throws her arms out wide, spinning around to gesture to everything,
“Stop that! You’re going to make yourself dizzy!” But Cara is rolling her eyes and stifling another giggle behind the fabric of Sapphria’s borrowed shirt.
Sapphria stops her spin, and locks eyes with Caramelinda, “Before we go out and adventure here, I did grab a picnic from the kitchen. So, we should eat and plan.”
“We’re out here, we might as well.” There’s a dramatic sigh from the taller girl, but no honest complaint, “Please tell me you brought something good.”
“Only the best for you, my darling Caramelinda,” Sapphria pulls a blanket off the saddle of the meep, and picks up a bundle of food wrapped in cloth before tossing it to Cara. “I tried to steal sparkling wine, but the cooks insisted it was for the party tonight.”
The pair settles in the grass, blanket laid out. Caramelinda on her stomach, crop top inching further up her back as she moves, kicking her feet up behind her, Sapphria sitting cross legged, shoulders far more relaxed than a princess’s should ever be. It’s easy to laugh here, to share jokes only they understand, and scheme for ways to avoid the party that will inevitably bring the reality of court life crashing back around them. The weight that has lived in Sapphria’s chest for the last decade lifts as they left, leaving her feeling lighter than air; one day this will crash around her, but for now, right here, it’s never been easier being fourth in line for the throne of Candia.
Here, in this clearing with her best friend, she can relax.
Off in the distance, a trumpet blares noting the arrival of someone important. From here, the sound is distant and soft as the band that stands at the castle gates begins to play a familiar tune.
Sapph’s eyes light up, and in a quick movement she is on her feet, extending a hand to Caramelinda once more. “Lady Caramelinda Merengue,” she says, syllables long and drawn out, “would you do me the honor of dancing with me at this fine event?” She gestures around the clearing again, eyes flickering between Cara and the tops of the castle’s towers, high above where the music originates from.
Caramelinda sits on her knees, takes Sapphria’s hand, and uses that to steady herself as she rises to her feet. “Now, Princess Sapphria,” Caramelinda smirks, two can play the title game, “Why should I give you that honor?”
“Because you love me,” the words roll off her tongue before she can stop them, but she doesn’t let that stop her, “and when are you going to get a chance to dance with the Princess of Candia?”
“I could go back to the palace and get your sisters, ask one of them to dance.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” Caramelinda challenges laughter in her eyes, and instead of letting her go, Sapphria pulls her closer.
“I’d rather you dance with me then them.” A pout crosses her features, “Please, Cara, a dance?”
The older girl rolls her eyes, but that doesn’t move to go back to her meep. Instead, she straightens her shoulders, rests a hand on Sapph’s shoulder and pulls the hand she was holding into position. Sapphria’s fingers find a place at Caramelinda’s waist, resting where the fabric of her shirt doesn’t quite meet the riding pants she’s borrowed.
Finding the beat of the music isn’t hard. It may be distant, but dancing in court is second nature; all that’s missing is the telltale drag of fabric on the ground as couples find their way around the room. It’s a struggle to find who leads, before they give up the formal dance all together, instead finding their own rhythm like they’ve done this a thousand times.
Whenever the music swells, Sapph lifts an arm for Cara to duck and spin under, hair flying out behind her. When it slows or quiets they part only to find each other in the middle of the clearing again, mirroring each other; it doesn’t take long for the music to fade entirely, announcing whoever had arrived had fully made it inside. That didn’t stop the girls though; they found music in the wind, following the pattern of separate and spin, meet in the middle, hands together while they make small circles across the clearing.
Breathless and pressed together they stand laughing, unable to look away from each other. Sapphria finds Caramelinda’s eyes golden, promising, happy, and can’t stop herself.
Feeling bold, the adrenaline of a dance punching through her veins, she pushes up on her toes to meet Caramelinda’s lips with a surprised kiss. There’s no thinking, no finesse, just the brief press of her lips to Cara’s - for a moment her heart stops, and the world goes still. She pulls back slightly, bites her bottom lip and offers an uncertain smile trying to read the other girl.
Sapph doesn’t get much of a chance. Before she can say or do anything, Caramelinda has freed one of her hands to rest warmly against her cheek. The pad of her thumb traces her cheekbone and Sapphria’s heart stutters in her chest as she is kissed again.
This time, there’s a little more skill and finesse, less adrenaline. Caramelinda kisses like a wildfire, warm and consuming, and like being kissed (being loved) was all she wanted.
Sapph curls her fingers through Caramelinda’s hair, and breathes her in. In the distance she can hear the sound of the guard looking for them, asking them to prepare for tonight’s festivities, so she sighs and pulls back ever so slightly, “They’ll be looking for us. We should probably go back.”
“Or,” Caramelinda offers, “we could stay here for a little while longer.”
--
(Sapphria can feel a weight on her shoulders - the knowledge that this is it for them. The news came in this morning, whispered in all of the court chatter. Caramelinda is getting married soon, within the year.
She should say something, should uncurl her fingers from Cara’s hair, and take the necessary step back but she is frozen in place, locked in this moment. She should be able to look away, but in this one moment Caramelinda is hers and they are at peace.
Time has stopped around them, and she is counting the breaths the other girl takes as the kiss sits softly against her lips. In a moment of quiet softness, she rests her forehead against the other’s chest and inhales deeply.
Lazuli will love her.)