"Do you remember dancing like this at our graduation from the academy?" The villain asked, rotating the hero in a slow waltz.
"Don't bring up old memories. Not now."
"Close your eyes, darling. Listen to the music."
The villain's grip tightened.
"You can't. Neither of us can. Just stay with me."
Prompt courtesy of @the-modern-typewriter from her amazing Patreon!
The hero clenched their jaw, eyes locked just past the villain's left ear. Around them, no one dared stopped dancing, or eating, or conversing as the secret police swept through the ballroom, removing the hero's co-conspirators with brutal efficiency.
"That's not true," the hero whispered. "These are your people. You can stop them."
The villain shook their head, daring a glance up at the throne. The tyrant was smiling as, one-by-one, the villain's elite operatives dragged their quarries away, their trademark white uniforms now spotted and splashed with red. "It was all I could do to get your name off the list," the villain said quietly. "That was more than I should have done."
There was a scream, cut off with the crunch of baton on bone. The hero almost broke but the villain hung on. Luckily it went unnoticed as other nobles and honored guests faltered in their attempts to ignore the abrupt disappearance of dancing partners, the rivulets of blood gumming the soles of their shoes and the hems of their gowns.
The villain shot a cold look to the operative in question. Disappointingly sloppy. There would be discipline later.
"Please," the hero whispered. They were trembling in the villain's grip. "If you ever held any affection for me, I am begging you -"
"You're begging me?" The villain dug in their nails viciously and the hero gasped. Good. "I've begged you for years to put aside this stupid, childish rebellious streak," they breathed in the hero's ear. "What were you thinking, getting involved with these - these - "
The hero's eyes flashed. "Idealists?"
"Amateurs," the villain said. "You're terrible at this game. Lucky you, to have me to fix another of your mistakes."
The song came to an end at last and the hollow-faced ton of the court applauded. The surviving dancers bowed raggedly to each other. The villain's bow was flawless and quick, their hand tight on hero's wrist as they escorted them from the floor.
From the throne the tyrant caught the villain's eye, raised his glass with a wink and a cruel smile. The villain inclined their head in obeisance and pulled hero from the ballroom.
"I told people there was still some good in you, some part of you that was just playing the long game," the hero said through gritted teeth. "I was wrong. You're a monster."
The villain shrugged. "A monster holding your life in my hands. You realize that, right? All the evidence I made disappear? I can bring it back."
The hero shot them a furious look that wasn't nearly as frightened as it should have been. Gods, they really had no self-preservation instinct at all. "Blackmail?" they hissed. "I know you know I have no money, no influence. What do I have that you want?"
I want you safe, the villain thought but didn't say. "Your reputation," the villain said. "For honesty."
The hero jumped as four white-clad operatives melted out of the corners around them. "[Villain]...?"
"My people here will escort you to my home, where you'll be safe. We'll discuss your new responsibilities in the morning," the villain said, taking hero's coat from one of the bodyguards and settling it on hero's shoulders themselves.
"My responsibilities...?"
The villain twisted the fabric sharply to pin the hero's arms under the wool, until the hero looked up. There was the fear. Finally.
"You work for me now, [Hero]," the villain said, as the strains of the next dance started up once again in the next room. "Long live the King."
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