Work Text:
Title: May I Have This Dance?
Fandom: MapleStory
Summary: Adele and Jerome never did get to finish their dance.
Pairing: Adele/Jerome
Jerome stares heavenward. At the dazzling fireworks. At the indigo sky blushing radiantly. At the legendary knight whose energy blades for wings dance as she and he descend from midair.
The heart of his regard, his guardian angel.
Adele has yet to relinquish her grip on his wrist. She clings to it as though she were the one in peril and without wings, refusing to let go.
He, more than happy to reciprocate, wraps his fingers around her wrist and clings to it in kind. As he feels his lips curling up, he likes to think his face mirrors the subtle smile that he sees on Adele's visage of steadfast loyalty.
Alas, no matter how much he desires to prolong it, this moment between them must eventually meet its end. At last, their feet safely meet the ground of Ristonia.
"No, the key–!" Adele suddenly panics. Her gaze flits skyward. "Cedric possesses the key that can awaken the Ancient God! He is going to sell it to–"
"Worry not. Boo has it all handled. The real key is in safe hands," he reassures, his fingers slipping into his right pocket.
"I… I see. If you say so," she relaxes slightly, only slightly, as her wings dissipate.
He observes the way Adele carries herself. There is still something of a weary guardedness in her stance, displaying a penchant for vigilance from a warrior whose heart is just one more sword in the repertoire of aether blades she can conjure up. That's who she is–the sort of knight who spares no effort to protect her liege in earnest, throwing herself into danger at a moment's notice. He admires her immensely for that.
And yet Jerome cannot help but long for that other side of Adele, that Adele he met back at the masquerade.
"You know," he starts, "We never did get to finish our dance."
Adele does a double take.
"I'm sorry?" she asks him with a tilt of the head. Her long, charcoal hair falls over the shoulder she leans to.
"Our dance, the one we had at the ball."
"Is that what you mean? Jerome, I…" she fumbles for words, "…was under the impression that we were merely blending in with the party."
He concedes with a nod, "We were, indeed, though a dance is a dance no matter the circumstances," he offers her an outstretched hand and dons a smile he hopes to be enchanting enough for her. "Shall we?"
There! Once more emerges the girl untethered from her valorous duties, the shy Adele who tries to hide her fluster under a jaded disposition. Subdued shades of scarlet from her cheeks betray her true emotions.
"I don't dance."
Déjà vu sets the stage. Curbing his mirth at Adele's response, the boy plays his role. "Don't worry. I can teach you," recites Jerome.
Adele recognizes those words, he can tell. Those silver eyes, as sharp as her blade, illustrate her keen memory through a gleam of amusement.
Their hands meet, Adele's fingers lacing with his own, and neither boy nor girl miss a beat.
They sway to and fro, riding the flow of the calm breeze. Jerome comes close to losing himself in those vivid pools of silver staring back at him intently, his head swimming from how utterly mesmerized he is over this sight before him.
He can feel Adele cradling his hands so delicately. He can see how the corners of her lips curl up a tad. Jerome gets to know this benevolent soul, this girl who was robbed from her past and now seeks to find her place in a life so foreign to her. The way she treats him, the way she regards him… Adele tells him through these actions that she's willing to accept him as a companion. And she also reveals her desire to learn more about the ways of the present which she strives to embrace.
His heart racing for Adele, Jerome obeys the inclination to oblige.
He and Adele begin to draw imperceptible circles beneath their feet as they orbit each other. Wind born from movement clings to the pair like strips of ribbon.
"Hey," coos Jerome.
"Mmn…?"
"I cannot thank you enough for sticking with me, Adelaide, even now as I speak. I'll cherish every moment I've spent with you. I promise."
"Finally calling me Adelaide? Are you not the one who said my name was too long to shout out in the middle of an emergency?" she remarks with amusement dripping in her voice.
"In what way is a dance between myself and such a magnificent woman an emergency?" he smirks.
"Be still my heart," comes her deadpan quip.
He chuckles. His grin broadens from ear to ear, stretching so far that his cheeks start hurting.
"It's that kind of wit that'll certainly make me die laughing."
"At least become King before you do."
The odd glint flashing across Adele's eyes evince a playfulness seldom expressed from their owner. He notes how much of a contrast it is when compared to her usual stoicism. Uncharacteristic is not quite the word Jerome would use to describe it. If anything, he prefers to think that it's… different.
A welcome trait from the Adele he unconditionally yearns for.
And so, the pair dance on grounds bathed in Ristonia's ethereal glow. They perform their ritual of partnership for their only audience, the moon–a nocturnal beauty whose crescent shape imitates the most arresting smile he has ever seen on Adele's face.
This moment is a treasure, and Jerome will make sure to secure it in his heart.