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Riddle held his face carefully blank while he watched Neige LeBlanche and his dwarves perform their dance. They currently rehearsed on the stage a few Savanaclaws had hastily put together this morning. The one that would be used by the different SDC teams the day of the contest laid still in parts to the side of the coliseum, covered by a tarp.
He had never read any books or manuals concerning dancing or choreographies –so his knowledge on that front was insufficient at best– but even he could see that they were in dire need of practice.
Constantly, one or another of the dwarves tripped over their own feet, or bumped into their neighbour, or was simply not in synch with the rhythm of the music. He didn’t need to be a professional dancer to see that. Neige, in the middle of the chaos, tried to hold up the pretence of order, showing dancing moves that were probably meant to seize attention, so the other’s blunders wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb, and aiming smiles at the audience so cheerful that they made it hard for Riddle to believe they were real.
His many (Hysterical, Riddle thought annoyed.) fans –Royal Sword Academy students who watched the rehearsal and cheered their classmates on– outnumbered Riddle’s lone figure, and he was in no mood to have one of them take offence at him if he pursed his lips in the distaste he felt at the display.
Unlike almost all of his under as well as upper classmen, he didn’t dislike Neige LeBlanche just because he was a student of their rival school. One of the Royal Swords was one of the most important persons in his life, after all.
But he disliked how the eight dancers cheated their way through their performance, obviously (and obliviously) thinking if they only smiled and laughed enough, they could surpass what Vil and the others had worked so hard for with sweat and tears.
Which they had.
Of course, Riddle had noticed how beat and exhausted Ace and Deuce struggled through their lessons, rubbing aching muscles and fighting to not let their heads sink down on their arms in slumber. (And when they had, Riddle had made sure to not let it slide.)
Day after day, Vil’s doubtlessly strict training leaching them out, on top of doing homework and fulfilling their obligations as a part of the Heartslabyul dorm.
The both of them gave everything they had and their every effort to get better, which had shown in how –after two weeks– they had managed to sit through their lessons without their eyelids growing heavy and their heads nodding to their chests. Had shown in the bone-deep exhaustion of inexperience getting replaced by eagerness to outdo themselves even further. To get so good as to win because they wouldn’t aim lower than the very top. (And if they grew a little bit forgetful, not doing so on purpose, gracing rule 339 and adding a sugar cube too little to their lemon tea, or brushing their teeth just once after the cafeteria ghosts had served turkey, Riddle forced himself to look the other way.)
He highly approved of his freshmen’s hard work.
So much, in fact, that he had already thought of a reward they would receive after the SDC was over and done with. They had more than earned it.
Riddle had no doubt whatsoever that they would win.
Caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that Neige and the dwarves had left the stage, only realized it as someone from the camera and lights team called him over. He shoved everything aside for a moment, and gave the Scarabian asking him to organize them an additional headlight they needed his full attention. He scribbled the order into his notepad.
“I will have it brought to you during lunch break,“ he acknowledged with a nod.
The Scarabian thanked him in a rush, before hurrying back to where another boy waved him over.
Riddle scanned the list that had assembled itself on his notepad. Of things he still had to check were going smoothly, things he had to organize for various stalls or the stage crew, or things he had to report to the teachers.
At that moment, Vil, Rook, Epel, Kalim, Jamil, Ace and Deuce entered the stage.
Riddle heard scattered boos from bold Royal Swords, but they didn’t seem to hear them, huddling together, smiling daringly, putting hands on shoulders, exchanged encouraging words. They dwelled in their own little world, and Riddle watched as they got into their positions, stretching arms, kicking legs, rolling shoulders. Vil let his gaze roam over his team members one last time, before gesturing to somewhere behind the curtains.
The music started.
Riddle startled as Vil began singing, and found himself hurrying out of the area at a brisk pace, withdrawing far behind the stage where people hustled and bustled around, carrying costumes or cameras or cables, and where he couldn’t hear the song.
He didn’t want to spoil himself the final performance in two days.
He wanted to see and hear everything for the first time alongside all the others.
He wanted to watch Ace and Deuce win with Cater and Trey at his sides.
He wanted to see Vil and everyone else give their best when it was time.
xXx
Neige hummed the song they had performed to only a few minutes ago, lost in thought. His foot tipped up and down to the beat and its catchy, happy melody just wouldn’t get out of his head.
He took his time changing out of his PE uniform and sliding out of his sneakers. After freshening up by rubbing his face and neck with a cooling wet towel, he let it hang loosely over his shoulder.
When Grum rolled his eyes at him and snorted in annoyance, Neige ceased his humming and fell silent with a fond shake of his head. Grum had often complained about how he wouldn’t get rid of his earworm and how everyone’s cheerful repetition of their chosen song got on his nerves.
That reminded Neige of how he would love to hear the song Vi-kun and his team had chosen for themselves, as well as see their dance choreography. He didn’t want to wait two days longer due to the different SDC teams being not allowed to watch each other’s performances prior to the actual event. He was convinced that Vil had cooked up something spectacular!
He went through the dwarves’ and his own choreography in his head and came to the conclusion that it needed improvement. It wasn’t perfect of course, he knew that, but wasn’t the most important thing the fun they got out of the whole experience?
Neige grinned to himself. They would have to step it up a notch to beat Vil and his friends. And he was positive they could manage.
Now though, it was time for a well-deserved break, and Neige let his eyes roam over the dwarves bustling around and bickering and decided that they would be alright without him for a while. Closing the last button of his shirt, he stepped out of the dressing room of the coliseum to catch some fresh air. He popped open the lid of his water bottle and took a big swig.
Now that he was outside –and out of Grum’s hearing range– he started whistling and went to a patch of sunlight framed by the building’s columns.
That was when he noticed the boy standing beside one of those columns. The boy leaned against it, standing in its shadow except for the tips of his shoes reflecting the sun where they stood out into the light. His back was turned to Neige, but he couldn’t overlook the bright red of the boy’s hair, demanding his attention immediately. He also couldn’t fail to notice his small stature (It was hard to ignore with himself towering over him by half a head.)
Neige could catch a glimpse of a pen flying over a notepad, causing the ribbon on his left arm to flutter. His black uniform gave him the obvious clue he needed to identify the boy as a Night Raven College student, but he didn’t know which of its dorms was represented by the golden adornment fastened to the ribbon.
Neige strolled towards him, a friendly smile on his face. He would have never thought that he would encounter a dwarf among NRC’s students (although he was somewhat taller than his seven friends). It was a surprise, but a pleasant one, and Neige was eager to learn where the boy came from.
“Hello there!“
The red-haired dwarf whipped around and Neige winced internally. He probably should have announced himself a little less enthusiastic.
The boy furrowed his brows for a second and rightened the striped ribbon around his neck, before large grey eyes met Neige’s, and he was hit by how young the other looked and how innocent, and how childlike his features were, and how small his hands holding his notepad were and-
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to startle you! I was just so excited to meet a dwarf that goes to NRC because all of my friends are dwarves too! And I thought we could become friends, and maybe you would want to watch the SDC together and-“
“Excuse me, are you talking to me?“
Neige nodded excitedly.
“Uh huh! But sorry, I didn’t catch your name, and have I introduced myself? I’m Neige LeBlanche, but you can call me Neige!“
The red-haired boy stared at him with slightly parted lips. Pink blotches appeared on his cheeks.
“What… What did you say?“
“Huh? Oh… I said my name is Neige Le-“
“No, before that.“
Neige frowned, regarding the reddening face of the boy with concern, and taken off-guard by his quivering but calm tone of voice.
Was something wrong?
“Uhm… I want to become friends with you, if that’s okay. And I am sure my other dwarf friends would love to meet you as well! They are a group of very different personalities, but they are very nice!“
“You called me a dwarf.“
“Huh?“
Neige felt more confused with every second and began to think that he maybe should have approached the boy differently and that he was in over his head. Or-
“DID YOU JUST CALL ME A DWARF?! HOW DARE YOU?! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!“
Those large grey eyes glared at him with the intensity of a forest fire, and Neige took a hasty step back, startled.
He had an overwhelming feeling he had said something wrong.
xXx
“What’s all this commotion about?“
As he saw the ruckus stemming from a group of eight very familiar people, Vil’s mood plummeted.
He groaned silently, subtly dragged a hand down his face and allowed his lips to curl in displeasure for only a second, before smoothing it into a blank mask. He would just ignore Neige and his entourage and hope they wouldn’t take note of him, Epel and Rook.
He hurried onward, forcing his mind to retrace every step they had taken during their rehearsal and how he would take care of mistakes they had to train out of, instead of his thoughts slipping into darker realms.
Rook chattered on and on about how beautiful they had danced, and how uplifting their shared effort was, complimented a particular good move from Jamil, and mused over a note Deuce had hit perfectly. Vil could see his friend gesticulate in the corner of his eye, hair and the feather on his hat bobbing up and down with his buoyant gait.
Epel seemed to indulge him, silently drinking the apple juice his family had sent him through a straw, but Vil caught him wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform.
The baby potato was lucky Vil wanted to reach their dorm as fast as possible or else he would have given him a wordy lecture.
“What in tarnation-?!“
Vil rolled his eyes, a reprimand already on his tongue that they had no time to loiter.
“Oh, mondieu,“ it came from Vil’s other side.
When Rook stopped too, it gave him cause to turn around and check out what had captured his classmen’s attention. Surely, Rook had read the room and was aware of his discomfort being so close to Neige.
As Vil turned to the direction Rook and Epel were staring, his eyes widened.
“Why are you collared?!“
He would not by any chance want to miss the answer to Epel’s aghast question.
xXx
Neige faced them after Epel’s outcry, attempting to calm down the dwarves flocking around him, with various degrees of success. He laughed sheepishly at them, confusion painting his face, and after Vil swiftly cut down any attempts to make small talk, he finally came out with it.
“… And then I told him that my other dwarf friends would love to meet him too.“
Epel spit out the juice he had just sipped at that, and started coughing into his armpit. It absolutely didn’t help that he was laughing at the same time. He tried to choke out some words and had to start anew a few times because he was interrupted by his own bursts of laughter halfway through.
“H-how are you still alive?!“
Rook made a funny face, before a hearty laugh broke through his composure, and he clutched the fabric of his uniform over his heart. He shook his head and his hair swished from one side to the other.
Vil trembled with the force of trying to reign in his own laughter, with his hand in front of his mouth as if the physical barrier would help contain it. When he burst out laughing anyway, he doubled over from the force of it. The image of Riddle loosing it and putting his collar on Neige was just too damn funny.
A very confounded Neige stood in front of them, a little lost –“I don’t know what’s going on, but you are laughing, so it’s… okay?“– and one or three dwarves indignantly demanded them to stop, but they kept laughing until their visions blurred and fat tears ran down their cheeks.
Over the course of the remaining day, Vil found himself to be in a splendid mood.
xXx
“Come on, Riddle, take off their collars,“ Trey pleaded, pointedly ignoring Ace and Deuce howling with laughter in the background and Cater not-so-helpfully snickering behind him.
“I’m not even thinking about it!“
“That’s absolutely reasonable. He called you a dwarf, after all.“
“Not. Helping. Vil.“
Vil smiled innocently at Trey, who threw his hands in the air in defeat.
“How dangerous ignorance can be,“ Rook whispered to no one in particular, a dramatic air around the words, causing Cater to snicker harder. He hit Rook’s shoulder, clutching his stomach with one hand.
“Stop it, Rook. Don’t make me laugh! I’m supposed to be a responsible adult here and talk Riddle into releasing them.“
Epel interjected.
“What makes Riddle remove the collar usually?“
Cater shrugged, and before he could come up with a reply, Ace and Deuce answered for him.
“If you apologize properly.“
“Or when he is in a good mood and you promise to do better.“
“Trust us, we speak from experience.“
Cater nodded. “They totally do.“
Vil shook his head, amused.
“Hey, at least he didn’t set them on fire.“
Rook laughed at Epel’s comment, and Ace nodded in understanding, the three of them clearly reminiscing.
“Please, Riddle,“ it faintly sounded from the background.
“I’m. Not. Even. Thinking. About. It.“