I thought I'd go ahead and write an Inkheart story. I really like the book and the movie, and Dustfinger and Roxane are by far my favorite pairing, so I thought more should be written about them! This story is based off of their relationship from the movie, rather than the book, because I thought they had an absolutely sweet love story in the film that wasn't quite all there in the story. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

One

Orient's castle looked the spitting image of an ancient medieval palace. It was formed out of gray and white stones and rose high into the air with towers and immense walls. Vines, covered with tiny white roses, wrapped up trellises and wove around balcony railings, perfuming the air. There were hundreds of rooms in this castle, all decorated with great banners, immense furniture, and balconies that stepped out into the crisp fall air. Men and women dressed only in the finest frequented torch lit corridors and spacious halls. This castle was one of the most famous in all the land of Inkheart, for its beauty and for its constant ceremonies.

It was nearing dinnertime, and guests and citizens of the palace began to find their way to the huge town square, located in the center of the palace with the great walls surrounding it. There was to be much entertainment tonight, with jugglers, dancers, singing, and the fire breather, Dustfinger, which everyone had heard about. Gay laughter and merry conversations filled the palace to the brim as everyone made their way outside, and no one noticed one of the chamber doors open and perhaps the most beautiful of the castle's women stepping out.

She didn't consider herself to be extremely beautiful, though everyone claimed it was so. Her long dark hair was draped elegantly down her back, flowing down to her waist, and her hazel eyes were shining with pleasure for the night's events. She was dressed in deep red, with a tiny jewel on her forehead and long strokes of fiery orange tracing down her long skirt. She had the palest, and yet, softest, skin of anyone in Inkheart, and she truly was a glorious creature to look upon, though she never noticed.

In her hands was a mandolin, finely crafted, perfectly tuned for its mistress's part in the festivities of the night. There were to be three nights of entertainment for the castle and village's occupants, and Roxane had been chosen automatically for part of the entertainment. The knights loved watching her, just for her beauty, the children were soothed to sleep with her singing, and the women thought they had never heard a lovelier voice. Roxane had been given a nickname, Golden Throat, because of her absolutely exquisite voice, but she much preferred her usual name and only tolerated it when her false name was used.

She was somewhat interested in the fire breather that was well reputed throughout the castle. She had heard of him and was curious to see how skilled he truly was at his craft. She was determined not to go out of her way, however, to see him. There was much profit to be made in her talent, and she had a desire to do her best tonight.

Jugglers were already at work in the square, throwing their balls or batons into the air and catching them skillfully. A play was going on in the east corner of the square, and that was where mostly everyone was gathered. The scent of roasting meat drifted through the air, and children, music, and laughter could all be heard. The sounds, smells, and sights, lifted Roxane's spirits, and she smiled as she found her way to the small seat reserved for her art.

She sat down and waited, like most of the other performers, for the play to finish before she began to play. Her thin fingers worked the mandolin strings deftly, perfectly, and she began to sing, her voice soft and lovely, a ballad about a piper who had lost his pipe. Some people passed her by while others stopped and listened, all of them pleased with her craft. Several gold and silver coins found the small flowerpot she had next to her, filling it, in a very short amount of time.

The sky darkened, bringing out the stars, moon, and the fire. Roxane couldn't see the famous fire breather, and after her flowerpot was filled for the second time, she took her mandolin in hand, got up, and moved towards the huge crowd that surrounded Dustfinger.

Roxane couldn't see past the bodies that surrounded the fire juggler, but she could see flames rising into the sky, and she was entranced as they licked up higher and higher, threatening almost to burn out the stars. She and the rest of the audience gasped and stepped back as an enormous red and gold dragon burst into flames above them and then soared down towards them, its wings outstretched.

It was magnificent, and Roxane desperately wanted to see the man who could do such magic. She slipped gracefully through a small gap in the crowd and found herself standing in the front. She was given a perfect view of the mysterious man behind the flames. His hair was light blonde, with some of it pulled back into a braid to keep it out of his face. The loose hair rested on his shoulders and glittered in the firelight. His eyes were blue, a majestic, regal blue, and they sparkled and burned as he toyed with the fire. He wore a black shirt with silver stripes shooting up and down the arms, black breeches, and black boots, all giving him a dark effect that took Roxane's breath away.

He gazed only at his flames, dancing in his hands, flying out his mouth, and soaring up into the sky. But then he looked to the side, briefly, and for one heartbeat, his eyes rested on Roxane's. She returned his split second gaze with her own, and then he looked away and continued his work.

The light in his eyes, the flames that licked up in his blue irises, captivated her. He loved what he did. That much was obvious. A smile of pleasure was on his face, showing white teeth that only gleamed in the lighting.

Roxane couldn't understand how he played with fire the way he did. Wasn't it extremely dangerous? What power did he possess that allowed him to do such a thing? What did it take to make the dragons and serpents that he could create?

She was as inquisitive as the children around her, but she knew he wasn't able to tell the secrets of his trade, or else he would have no trade left.

Dustfinger finished ten minutes later, and the crowds parted, going different ways. Roxane decided to rest from her singing and looked around at all of the vendors who had their wares displayed to everyone. She lingered at the table of a jewel seller and gazed admiringly at his gem necklaces and rings. One necklace in particular caught her eye, making her think of the fire breather. It was made of gold, red, and orange, and it shone magnificently in the light of the cart.

"You are welcome to try it on, if you wish. I enjoy having beautiful women try my things. It draws the attention of potential buyers," the salesman smiled.

Roxane nodded and then proceeded to clasp the necklace around her neck. It brought out the light in her eyes, making them sparkle. Orange wasn't typically one of Roxane's colors, but the red and gold matched her outfit, so the necklace did draw attention to her beauty.

"Promoting your jewelry again, Ralis," a soft voice, accompanied by an English accent, questioned.

"Ah, Dustfinger!" the salesman exclaimed, and Roxane found her cheeks turning red as she turned to look at the fire-eater. "Of course! As always!"

"And a finer model you couldn't have picked," Dustfinger complimented, and Roxane averted her eyes to the ground, blushing furiously.

"You're too kind, fire dancer."

"I did enjoy the pleasure of your voice this evening, accompanying this pleasant event," Dustfinger said, smiling a small smile at her. "It was lovely."

"Thank you. You're fire display was terrific. It must have taken many years to be able to perform like that," Roxane returned the kind gesture.

"Ah. Many years indeed," he nodded. "Ralis, do you happen to have any more orange gemstones? I'm trying to make a collar for Gwin, as much as he hates them."

"I forgot entirely about him! Where is the little fellow?" Ralis asked.

"He was out hunting, but…"

Roxane felt something slink past her legs, something furry and fast, and she jumped back with a small squeal.

"Ah! There he is!" Dustfinger said, bending down and scooping up the marten into his hand.

"Getting fat, I see," Ralis chuckled.

"He must have been delving into Orion's chickens again. Shame on you, Gwin. You know better," Dustfinger chuckled, placing the marten on his shoulder. "Have you never sent a marten before, my lady?" he asked, seeing Roxane's amazed expression.

"No. I've only heard of them, but never seen them," she marveled.

"I would let you hold him, but he bites."

"He wouldn't bite her. No one could ever bite the Lady Roxane," Ralis smiled.

"The Lady Roxane. Indeed, you are as popular, I believe, if not more so, than I am," Dustfinger commented. "You may pet him if you wish. Just be cautious. He does bite."

Roxane nodded and then reached out and timidly touched the marten on his horned head. Much to her delight, the creature purred and rubbed his face into her hand.

"I guess he doesn't mind me much," Roxane smiled and then pulled her hand away. "He's adorable."

"A little rascal," Dustfinger said, stroking the marten's head fondly. "So, Ralis, have you any orange gems?"

"I have," Ralis nodded. "I have three little ones that should do quite nicely. I haven't been able to sell them, due to their size, so I shall give you a discount."

"I need to be off, Ralis," Roxane said, taking the necklace off her neck. "I prefer to get inside before it gets too rowdy."

"Are you staying in the castle as well?" Dustfinger asked, looking at the gems Ralis held out to him.

"I am," Roxane nodded. "I'm one of Orion's guests."

"And well you should be," Ralis nodded. "Good night, Roxane."

"Good night."

"Tell me about her," Dustfinger spoke as soon as the exquisite woman was out of earshot.

"Taken a fancy to her, have you? Join the hundreds of others," Ralis grinned. "We don't know too much about her. She doesn't have a family, and she travels with a group of other performers, common people, really. She has performed in great halls before notable audiences, and she is the most beautiful woman in all of Inkheart, or so it's been said."

"I have heard all of that," Dustfinger said lightly. "But what of her likes and dislikes? Why hasn't she found a worthy suitor? What makes her happy?"

"That is something you'll have to find out on your own, fire fingers. No one seems able to answer that, but no one has ever asked her, either. To most, she's just a perfect work of art, flawless, a perfect sculpture of some goddess here on earth."

"I'll learn what I can," Dustfinger grinned. "Thanks, Ralis."

"Any time. Tell me how that collar comes out for Gwin."

"I can do that."

Roxane made her way into the palace and then slipped quietly through the corridors towards her chambers. She was grateful for the solitude in the castle, for while she enjoyed celebrating and crowds, she much preferred the peace and quiet, especially at night.

Her chambers were quiet, and she quickly changed out of her elegant clothes into her nightgown. She moved to the room's balcony and then opened the balcony door and peeked out. From the balcony, she could see the square, from somewhat of a distance, and she watched as two bright streaks of fire flipped effortlessly about in the air.

Just as Dustfinger could weave his charm with fire, he had thoroughly woven his spell around the beautiful woman who admired from a distance.

Roxane could have watched him all night.