Harry watched the odd girl settle herself against one of the back walls. Evidently she was searching for someone in this crowd and wanted to be discreet. He did not like spies and their games of intrigue, but this one at least seemed to have no ill intentions towards Bridget, at least for today. So Harry allowed himself to focus his attention away from the girl and towards Bridget. He had a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He was going to be needed tonight, but first he needed to talk to Bridget.

Sparing only a few more moments to search for anything that seemed amiss, Harry downed the last of his drink and hoped it would give him what courage he needed as he strode towards Bridget. He still hated being in a suit, being so exposed, and became all the more aware of it as Bridget’s eyes found his. This could end very badly, but I’ve held this in for far too long.

“Happy birthday, Princess.” Harry said with his best bow and flourish.

“Thank you very much, dear knight. How do you find the party this evening?”

“Very enjoyable, your highness. But rather lonely. Would you perhaps honor me with a dance to make it less so?”

Her smile. So beautiful. “Of course. The honor is all mine, dear knight.” She said, and extended her hand to him. So soft. So delicate. He closed his hand gently around hers and led her up to the dancing floor. He took one more bow and closed the position and started to dance.

“How am I doing so far?” He whispered to her.

“Very well. Zoe should be proud that you managed to actually sound properly pompous.”

“You have no idea. She wanted me to give this whole monologue.”

They both simply laughed and twirled with the music, utterly lost in each other's company. So graceful. So perfect. How could she possibly love me? Harry almost lost his footing, but with a gentle lead from Bridget he managed to recover and not look even more foolish than he already felt. Trying his best to salvage his dignity, he continued his steps and finished with a deep dip. He pulled her up as the music finished and they looked at each other again. Her face was alight, a radiant dawn in a world of darkness. Her laughter was so infectious he found himself grinning like he was eight again being gifted his first sword. Those bright purple eyes shone like perfectly cut amethysts, a portal to a magical world where he could bathe in their warmth forever.

His urge to kiss her then and there was stronger than he even realized and he found himself much closer to her than he thought he should be. But now is the time! You’ve been waiting for this moment. Now, time to man up!

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“Hey, Bridget.” He said, fighting back the lump that sat squarely in his throat.

“Yes, Harry?”

“I just… I wanted to…” He trailed off. There was movement against the back wall where there shouldn’t have been. A guard had left his post and left out the southern door. The spy was already moving towards the door to follow. Whatever was happening, was clearly not what he needed right now.

“Can you give me a minute?” He said hurriedly, and all but ran towards the south door.

The hallways of the castle always ran a perfect circle around the central point, and that made it easy to lose your target as they could have left in any direction. Luckily, he caught a glimpse of the glittering blue dress of the spy as they rounded toward the west. He followed as quickly as he could without his sword hitting things or making noise. She stopped behind a table and pulled two daggers out from under her dress. Clearly the guard detail needed further training on how to look for weapons on women. But they were pigs, and he knew that, so instead he simply settled into a low crouch and approached the spy as quietly as he could to peer at whatever it was she was watching.

The west balcony wasn’t particularly interesting, being used only to give speeches and small ceremonies during the beginnings of spring and autumn. However, there was a single cannon placed there only ever fired at the passing of royalty, and always without ammo. Yet, this guard seemed to be loading in a live charge for some as yet unknown purpose.

His attention was brought back to the girl who was motioning for him to come closer, but had not even turned around to see that he was there. How did she know? Harry crept to her and set his attention back to the guard. Whoever it was, he was clearly not one of Harry’s men. He had already loaded the charge and was lighting the linstock in one of the hallway torches.

Harry’s attention was once again drawn back to the woman beside him as she motioned for him to draw his weapon and she turned one of her daggers around to grip it by the blade. The guard had turned back towards the cannon and the woman counted down from 3 and hurled her knife into the back of the guard’s knee. He collapsed, screaming wildly in pain. Harry and the spy quickly rose from their position and ran to approach the man downed by the flying dagger. But even as they ran he raised the linstock to the cannon. She threw her second dagger straight at his shoulders, but it was too late. The linstock found the fuse and in a large flash of fire, the cannon roared through the night.

Harry stumbled back a bit as the explosion sounded through his ears. He never could get used to these devices, even if they were far more common now than when they were first made a couple decades ago. The spy was the first one to approach the wounded guard and she quickly kicked the man off his crawl and pinned him on his back. “I have some questions for you, and if you make it difficult getting answers, that knife in your knee will be the least of your concerns.” She half whispered to the downed knight.

“You’re too late!” The man spat through clenched teeth, and a large cry of men sounded from the city down below. Harry struggled to put together what was happening as he knew next to nothing about what was going on. What the hell does he mean ‘we’re too late?’ Another sound answered in the night; the warning bells began ringing and Harry was nowhere near Bridget. Idiot! He cursed himself and began running at a full sprint back to the ballroom. Whatever was happening, Bridget was in trouble.