The Arcana - Julian Fanfics!

VII. The Chariot

*hey guys! thank you thank you thank you for all the amazing support and feedback for this series! hopefully you enjoy this one, it was super fun to write and I'm literally so excited to write the one after this ahhhalsskfjekgrjg (ps, for those of you who've read my Muriel series, I forgot to mention Val made a lil cameo in one of the previous chapters XD, some characters from series I've got planned also appear, but you'll meet them later). Anywho, thank you for reading. Love you all, stay safe and stay informed. xxx

I cling to Julian in an effort not to lose him. His height might save him, but if I get swept away in this crowd, I'll be done for. The Masquerade is in full swing around us. Revellers twirl with linked arms, a dizzying array of silks and shawls and skirts in all the concieveable colours, embroided, sewn and stitched with patterns that couldn't possibly have been done by hand. I spy one man adorned in soft white feathers and lilac silk. Another woman wears a formitting black gown with the most audacious thigh-slit I've ever seen, her panther mask set with chips of glittering onyx.

Oh, and the food! Platters of basted meats crusted with crackling herbs and seasoning, pyramids of exotic fruits and cakes, even the vegetables; some have been pickled, steamed and roasted, others mashed, caramelised and smoked. There's a fountain of champagne in the centre of the room that changes colour and flavour depending which of the hundreds of spouts you filled up from. Earlier, Julian filled a champagne flute with a bubbly pale purple liquid that turned out to be grape. On a dare from him, I tried the crimson champagne, bubbling so angrily it looked as though it was boiling. Unfortunately, it turned out to be chilli flavour, most of it ending up on Julian's boots after I spat it out.

My mouth still burns as Julian weaves us through the crush. "That table looks interesting, darling," he says, peering over all the heads of styled hair and gaudy masks. I nod, having absolutely no idea what the table looks like because of all the giraffe people blocking the way. "Oh, sure. Must look great from up there." Julian glances down at the tangible sarcasm. "What's wrong?" I pout exaggeratedly, planting both hands on my hips. "I can't see anything. I'm too short." Julian only smiles like he's just stolen the stripes off a tiger.

"Ophelia, my dear, when has that ever stopped you?" He wiggles his eyebrows, dipping his head in the direction of the nearest table. Large, higher off the ground...I feel a grin tugging my lips, and clasp my hands behind my back. I blink innocently. "Why, Julian, whatever are you suggesting?" He holds out his hand, winking. Well, as much as someone with one eye can wink, but the obnoxiousness of it is unmistakeable. I slip my hand into his, letting him push through the crowd towards the table. When we reach the table's edge, I prepare to hike my skirts to my knees to try and heave myself up there. But before I can even think about it, Julian braces his hands around my waist and pushes me up 'til I'm standing high on the table. I shriek with laughter, my hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he gazes up at me.

Is this what it's like to be tall? I gaze around the ballroom, everything suddenly visible over the sea of people. Must be nice. Julian's hands slide down from my waist until they rest over the back of my thighs. I can't tell if the heat is from his grip even through the gauzy fabric of my dress, or if it's just me. I smile down at him, running a slow hand through his hair.

"Hello, you."

Julian gives the backs of my thighs a gentle squeeze. "Why, good evening. How's the weather up there?" I close my eyes, letting the smells and sounds of the Masquerade wash over me. Fortunately, no one seems particularly fussed over me standing on the table. Up here, it's less crowded, almost like I'm seeing and hearing and smelling everything for real. "Divine," I say, eyes fluttering open to meet his. Julian's expression is soft, wide and adoring.

I smirk down at him, tugging on his hair. "You look nice from this angle, dear," I say wickedly, my heart doing a little flip when he bites his lip. "I could say the same of you, my love," he replies, cheeks flaming pink. For a moment, the desire in his eyes is deafening even over the Masquerade din. Like the moment of numbness in the wake of rolling thunder.

One hand gently pulling his hair, the other grasps his forearm and pulls him up onto the table with me. Suddenly I'm eye level with his collarbone, his arms coming around my waist and grasping my hand. The music is elegant, classy, nothing too raucous. But the beat is there, and that's all we really need. "Will you have this waltz with me, my darling?" Medical skills aside, Julian's smile could probably jumpstart a heart. A throng of party-goers gather around the edge of the table, cheering and throwing flowers. Reaching out, I snatch a rose from the air and hold it to Julian. Eyes glinting, Julian leans down and bites down on the stem, holding the rose in his mouth. I take up a waltz pose, mindful of the plates and platters around my feet. "This waltz, and every other that comes our way, dear."

With that, we sweep into a haphazardly dance on the dining table, stepping over the sausages, whirling around the desserts and hopping over the hors'douveres. The crowd around the table swells, stamping and clapping and cheering to the beat. Julian gives me a knowing glance, smiling with the rose clamped between his teeth. Isn't this familiar? His eyes seem to say. Ah, a bit rowdier, that's more like it. Julian turns sideways, so I clasp his hand and spin out wide. With light steps he moves in, so I curl back into him with a whirl of blue fabric. Butterflies flutter wildly around us, trailing in our wake. Julian dips me low, his forehead nearly touching mine. I rumble with laughter, feeling lighter than I ever have before. Even though we're only dancing a few heads above everyone else, it feels like we're dancing on clouds. Like the whole ballroom has dissolved into vapour, and it's just Julian and I waltzing through the sky.

Carefully working around the platters of food, we finish of the dance with the last few moves and ending as we started: his hands on my waist, eyes locked together. The crowd's lost its mind, applause momentarily drowning out the music. Julian's flushed pink and panting under his tight costume. My frizzy blonde hair sticks to my neck and face, so that I'm peeling strands away from my cheeks. Absently, I unbutton Julian's costume a little so that he can cool down. A chorus of Oooooo ripples through the crowd. Someone even wolf-whistles. Smirking, Julian holds up his hands in mock surrender and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. "Ah, applause. The only thing as sweet as you, darling." I smile sweetly, unbuttoning another button on his cosutme. His eyes fly open, hands shooting to catch mine and prevent potential public nudity. "Not in front of the audience, Ophelia," he says loudly, gazing out at the crowd accusingly. The crowd erupts into laughter, and Julian's lips twist into a smile. Holding each other's hands, the other flung out far, we both take a bow, basking in glorious attention.

Only, when Julian bends at the waist, something shiny slips out of his costume's unbuttoned front. I just catch the glint in my periphery, something silver. Something round. It bounces off the table with a ping and lands in a stray champagne glass. A burst of bubbles fizz to the top of the glass, before the foamy liquid clears and I see what it is. Suddenly, my knees turn to liquid. Am I really seeing it, or did dancing take more out of me than I thought? But no, because Julian sees it, too.

He blanches, face turning white, then red. The crowd seems to have dispersed, resuming their partying. No one notices when Julian dives for the glass, scrambling over dishes of dip and sending platters flying, to stick his fingers in the champagne to fish the diamond ring out.