Chapter Text
“Sitting alone today?”
Daring’s eyes snapped up and were met with Cerise, her cloak pulled low over her forehead, holding a lunch tray and smiling awkwardly.
“Oh, um, yes!” Daring said, trying to gather all of his normal princely tone of voice. “Eating alone is a wonderful way to meditate and—”
“Nice try, Princey,” Cerise said. She set her lunch tray on the picnic bench and sat next to him. Not across from him, next to him.
Daring used his fork to cut his PB&J into smaller and smaller cubes.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. It was kind of nice to just be outside. After the whole Winter-Kingdom-became-evil-and-froze-Ever-After thing, there seemed to be a permanent smell of spring in the air. And mud. A lot of mud.
“Where’s Rosabella?” Cerise asked, her mouth full of steak. She was so focused on her meal that Daring wasn’t sure if she even realized that she asked.
“We broke up,” Daring said. His PB&J was quickly becoming multiple crouton sized bits.
“HUHumph,” Cerise coughed and pounded her chest, “Ehem. Sorry, went down the wrong way. You broke up?”
“Yes,” Daring said, after making sure she wasn’t choking anymore, “Why are you being so forward? Weren’t you really shy and aloof a few months ago?”
Cerise gave him a grin, flashing unusually sharp canines, “Actually, you were one of the people who helped me realize that I don’t have to be shy and aloof. It’s—It’s a lot of energy to, y’know, do what I’m doing right now by coming up to you and talking to you like this, and I still get anxious, but…” she trailed off.
“But…?”
She met his eyes, “After I made a friend, I realized that I was really lonely before. Like, really lonely. So, I don’t know. I wanted to make more, I guess.”
Daring was the first to look away, putting his full attention back on his sandwich cubes and potato chips, “Who was your friend?”
“Raven. She was the first person to learn, uh, private information about me. Well, the first person who had good intentions,” Cerise said. Her voice, though still somehow soft and quiet and raspy at the same time, shook slightly.
Of course it was Raven. After being turned back into a human, Daring realized that he was guilty for treating Raven like he did earlier in the school year. He wasn’t the worst to her, but he definitely said some things he regretted. He was guilty for a lot of things.
“Enough about me,” Cerise said, “Tell me why I can see a visible rain cloud above your head.”
“Huh?” Daring looked up.
“Oh, uh. It was a joke,” Cerise stuttered, attempting a laugh, “because you look upset.”
“‘Upset’? Ah, my dear maiden, you misunderstand! I am merely connecting to nature, as all good princes should!” Daring almost leapt to his feet and gestured gracefully to the scenery around them. Almost. He channeled the princely voice from earlier—the tone he always used around other people—and then some.
Cerise raised an eyebrow, somehow looking both unimpressed and amused with the same expression.
“No, you’re right,” Daring slumped, stabbing a PB&J cube with his fork, “It’s about the Beast thing.”
Cerise’s mouth formed an O, but she waited for him to continue.
“My whole life, I’ve been told that I was going to be a heroic and dashing and charming —if you will—fairytale prince. I was going to be the one to save the day, the one to battle the Evil Queen and wake Snow White from her poisoned slumber.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yeah. And then I became the Beast,” Daring sighed, stabbing another cube, “There’s a curse among royal families, especially ones with the Charming name. ‘Those who are vain and cruel are cursed to be the Beast until pure of heart’,” he quoted.
Daring kept his eyes on his sandwich cubes. He heard Cerise’s cape rustle as she shifted to face him better.
“I… Was I vain and cruel? I was— am arrogant and selfish. I know that much. But cruel?” Daring looked at Cerise, gripping the fork tightly.
“No,” Cerise said, “Yeah, you were definitely arrogant. But you weren’t as selfish as you think you think you are. You’re not anymore, at least. And you were never cruel.”
Daring huffed, “I certainly don’t feel pure of heart.”
Cerise was silent for a moment. She scooted closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. It felt nice. It grounded him in reality.
“Those who are pure of heart never actually feel like they’re ‘pure of heart’,” Cerise said, “I think you always had a heart of gold, but for whatever reason, you kept it hidden and wrapped it in layers of a ‘Prince’ exterior.”
Daring swallowed and averted his eyes, “Thanks.”
His voice broke, but thankfully Cerise didn’t mention it.
She patted him on the shoulder and stood, gathering her tray, “Are you done mutilating your sandwich? Class is going to start soon.”
Daring glanced down at his lunch tray. He never actually got to eat.
“I have a couple protein bars in my locker,” Cerise said, “and there’s always the vending machine.”
“Yes,” Daring said, he grabbed his tray and the two of them walked back inside the school, narrowly avoiding the mud.
“Are you coming to bookball practice?” Cerise asked.
“I think I will,” Daring said. He stopped walking, causing Cerise to pause as well, “Um. Thank you, Cerise. For, well. You know.”
Cerise grinned, flashing her canines again, “Gotta help my teammate, right?”
Daring laughed, feeling like a weight had fallen off his chest for the first time in years.
They stopped at Cerise’s locker after they put their lunch trays in the castle-teria. She handed him two protein bars and a little chocolate candy left over from the True Hearts Day party a couple months ago.
“Thanks,” he said, “Again.”
“Don’t mention it,” Cerise said, “And I want to say thank you too. At lunch, I said that you were one of the people who helped me realize that I don’t have to be aloof.” She didn’t look at him, eyes trained on something inside her locker, “so thank you.”
“Just out of curiosity, when did I—”
“I’ll tell you later,” She flashed him another one of those grins that was going to become a constant in his life.
“I can wait,” Daring said, he gave her his own blinding grin that always came with finger guns, as he left for his next class.
He liked Cerise a lot. She was a good friend. And a hexcellent bookball player.