A/N: Also on my tumblr (aconiteandmoonlight. tumblr. com). Enjoy! :)

Prince Stiles hated balls. Not the spherical playing device that the common people used to entertain themselves. (Stiles was actually really jealous of his future subjects' ability to freely partake in such frivolousness. Damn lucky peasants.) Or the erh... anatomical aspect of the word. (For he was a man and he did happen to play on that particular team. And hey! He was a Prince, he could go sleep with whatever gender he prefered and anybody who thought badly of it could be court marshaled!)

No. The type of ball that Crowned Prince Stiles of the Kingdom of Clubs hated was the one he was currently attending. The one that included dancing.

Just the thought of it was enough to make him sick. The complex little movements, the having to watch where you are putting your hands to avoid offending the "proper" lady, (who, for the record, had been grabbing all over his royal business) and the twirling! Oh god, the twirling! He despised twirling. It always had him feeling nauseated and sick. And it brought back horrible memories of vomitting in the rose bushes after his "trusty" bodyguard, Sir Scott, had given him far too many drinks.

Nope. Prince Stiles hated balls. In fact, he absolutely loathed them. He was half tempted to just start a fire- Hey! Maybe that could work? Let's see, if he just moved those candles a bit closer to those ridicuously big curtains, than the whole place would go up in smoke, and maybe even permanently damage the ballroom! And-

No! Uh uh. Bad thoughts! No arson for the Crowned Prince! That would reflect rather poorly on the kingdom and he already caused enough trouble for his father after he "accidentally" locked Princess Lydia's body guard, Sir Jackson, in a broom closet.

For his defense, the asshole totally deserved it!

And speaking of the asshole knight, he was currently making his way towards Stiles, following in the wake of his charge. Who looked like she was on some sort of mission... and oh crap.

Crap.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Princess Lydia was going to try to set him up on a date again.

This would not end well.

"Prince Stiles!" Crap. She was getting closer! Ah! What to do? What to do? Maybe he should make a run for it? Would the door guards let him through? No, they had probably been ordered by his father to make sure he stayed in the ballroom. Maybe he could go hide in the curtains! They were monstrous enough for him to conceal himself!

"Prince Stiles!" Crowned Princess Lydia of the Kingdom of Diamonds smiled as she lay on hand on the prince's arm, effectively trapping him. Damn it!

"Good evening, Princess Lydia. How are you on this wonderous evening?" He really hoped that he was just imagining that nervous quiver in his voice. And...nope. The princess was grinning like a cat does, just before it pounced on a baby mouse. She had sensed his fear.

"I am marvolous tonight, thank you for asking." She gave him a devil's smile. And oh yeah, he was so screwed.

"Sir Jackson, go away. Go find some drunk girl to go fondle out in the gardens." Lydia waved her hand over her shoulder dismissively. The knight scowled and rolled his eyes, making his way over to a gorgeous and most likely inebriated blonde.

"So Prince Stiles, I see that you are once again without an escort for the evening. And at such an important event as tonight, we simply can not allow that!" He really didn't like the way her eyes were twinkling. That promised trouble. A lot of what would most likely be highly embarrassing trouble.

And he knew tonight was an important night! It was the Trump Ball, for god's sake! The one night a year where the four Suit Kingdoms came together for fun and festivities. And it was unfortunately the Club Kingdom's "honor" of hosting it this year.

Otherwise he would have totally faked illness.

"Well umm...you see..." Crap. He needed an excuse. Crap. Crap. Umm...

"It's okay, Prince Stiles. I know how horribly shy you are! No need to say another word! I, Crowned Princess of the Kingdom of Diamonds, will find you a companion for the evening!"

Crap. This was not good.

"Really, Prince Stiles! You should have just asked me in the first place! You simply can not spend the night alone! I mean, look! Even your knight has a companion!"

Scott found a companion? Where was he? Oh there he was. Over there with Princess Allison. Well good for- Wait what!

His Head Knight and Royal Bodyguard of common birth was flirting with the Crowned Princess of the Kingdom of Hearts!

Nope, that was not going to end well. But really, he did not have enough time or headache tonic to deal with his knight's star-crossed love.

Not when Princess Lydia was scanning the crowd like a hawk looking for a field mouse.

"Really, there most be someone at this event who is suitable for the honor of dancing with a Crowned Prince! Well, if worst comes to worst, we can always use Jackson. He is of high enough birth."

Jackson? Dance with Sir Jackson! Uh uh. No way. Not happening. He would rather fall back on his plan of arson.

"Oh look! Your siblings have found partners for the evening!"

Really? Stiles looked around the dance floor searching for the twins, finding them both dancing near the windows. Prince Isaac had a pretty brunette in his arms and had just executed a perfect lift, while Princess Erica danced with a more rugged looking noble. Stiles felt a bit sick as Erica allowed her partner to twirl her. God, he hated twirling!

They both, using what he was sure were there freaky twin powers, looked up at him at the same time. And damn it!, they were laughing! They were laughing at him!

When he became king, they were so getting locked away in towers.

"Now let's see here, -Oh!"

Uh oh. That was a very victorious sounding exclamation of surprise. Which meant...

She had found a target.

"Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. He will do perfectly."

Stiles cautiously turned towards the door where Lydia was looking, not really wanting to see the man Lydia had picked out. And- oh.

Oh.

My.

God.

Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, was a ridiculously fine man, chatting amicably with one of the door guards. He was tall, dark, and so handsome that Stiles felt his knees shake a bit and his royal business was now definitely paying attention.

The man laughed at something the guard had said, and Prince Stiles could see the absolutely adorable way his eyes crinkled in mirth. And suddenly, Stiles recognized him.

Crowned Prince Derek of the Kingdom of Spades.

And Stiles really should have been paying more attention at some meetings because he had never before noticed how completely, utterly, sexy the Spade Prince was!

"Yup, by that look of complete lustful wanting on your face, I'm going to assume he is a good choice." Stiles flushed red. Was he really that obvious? "And yes, you are that obvious." He swore that Lydia was a mind reader or had made some sort a pact with a devil...

"Alright, you just wait here and I'll go fetch him for you!" Wait? What! He could not dance with that total hunk of man candy! He had to stop her! And oh crap.

Too late.

She was already halfway across the ballroom and was approaching the visiting prince at mach speed.

Maybe the curtains were a good idea after all?

He couldn't bare to watch Lydia talk to Derek, so he looked away aand pretended to study the lovely architecture of the ballroom.

He could not dance with Derek! He was going to make a complete and utter fool of himself! He was going to step on the other Prince's feet or forget the steps to whatever dance they would be doing. Or he could run into one of the other dancers and completely embarrass himself. Or he could trip! Oh god what if he tripped? Or worse he had to do a twirl. Oh god. He would have to go do the honorable thing and kill himself, if he vomited on Derek's feet. Isaac or Erica could handle running the kingdom, and yes, his father would be devastated, but at least his son would have done the honorable thing-and oh crap! Someone just touched his shoulder. Lydia was back.

"Princess-"

And crap. That was definitely not Lydia. Or a princess.

Prince Derek grinned down at Stiles and oh my god, he looked absolutely wolfish.

"I'm afraid I'm not a Princess, Prince Stiles." Oh crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap!

"No! I mean, I know you're not a princess! I just thought you were Princess Lydia! Not that you look like Princess Lydia or anything. And not to say that Princess Lydia doesn't look nice! Because she does! And I know you're a prince and-"

Derek threw his head back and laughed, ending Stiles's disastrous rambling. And now, Prince Stiles felt a bit indignant. How dare Derek just laugh at him like that? He opened his mouth to let out a very angry rant, but Prince Derek cut him off.

"I'm sorry, Prince Stiles." Derek said as he finally calmed down. Hmph. He better apologize. "I know what you meant and didn't mean to startle you. I actually came over here to ask if I could have a dance? For the purpose of improving international relations, of course." He said the last part with a wink, and oh my god, Stiles just totally turned into a soft mush. Well except for his royal business, which was definitely not soft in any way.

"Oh, umm... Of course!" Stiles cringed at the squeak in his voice, but Derek just smiled and took his hand and led him off onto the dance floor. And oh god, here we go.

They moved to the center of the dance floor, Stiles managing to avoid tripping or running into anyone. (10 points for Stiles!) Derek lifted their left hands into the air and placed his right hand on Stiles's hip. Stiles gulped and placed his free hand on Derek's shoulder. Then the music for the waltz started and off they went.

At first, Stiles was a nervous wreck, trying to avoid stepping on or running into anyone. But Derek was a excellent dancer, and the Prince of Clubs began to fell more comfortable as the Prince of Spades's strong arms lead him through the dance.

He finally managed up the courage to look up at his dance partner's face and Derek was grinning and staring into his eyes, and suddenly the night felt a lot more magical.

They continued to sway and sweep through the song, Stiles becoming much more relaxed and actually began to enjoy the dance.

That is until they got to the twirl.

Oh god. Stiles didn't realize that it was even coming until Derek lifted their arms higher and removed his hand from his hip and oh god, this was going to be disastrous.

No! No, don't think like that! Just do it!

Stiles removed his hand from Derek's shoulder scrunched his eyes up and twirled.

And oh god this spinning darkness was a nightmare and oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!

But then Derek's hand was back on his hip, and he opened his eyes, and he was safe and steady and hey, that wasn't so bad.

Smiling, the Club Prince put his hand back on Derek's shoulder and they continued the dance. And it was magical and enchanting, and he didn't want this to end, and then-

"Excuse me? May I cut in?"

Who the hell was this bitch! A blond bombshell had tapped Stiles on the shoulder and was looking expectantly at him. Her beautiful dress said she was of noble birth, but that still didn't mean should could cut in a dance between two royals! Especially two Crowned Princes!

Derek's eyebrows were furrowed and he suddenly looked a lot more intimidating, and in no way cheerful, and looked like he was about to say something, but Prince Stiles really hated confrontation so-

"Of course. Please enjoy yourself." And he had managed to say that with very little malice, and he was now quite proud of his acting abilities. He smiled and nodded at Derek before making his way back to Lydia.

And oh, she did not look happy.

She was berating her knight in very hushed whispers, and oh! That blond that just cut in on him, must have been the one Jackson had danced with earlier.

"Look what you've done! Did you not see her move towards them! You should have stopped her! You should have whisked her away and kissed her so senseless that she would be in no condition to ruin my matchmaking!" Lydia took a deep calming breath and Stiles could see her mentally counting down from ten. "Jackson, just go get me a drink before I order you beheaded."

Grumbling, Sir Jackson sulked away to the drink table and Stiles arrived in the presence of the Diamond Princess.

"Oh I could just kill him for his stupidity. And I will most definitely be killing that blond bitch that stole your man. Once I find some aconite, she is so going to be drinking wolfs bane tea!"

Stiles gulped at the killer intent Lydia was releasing. "It's fine, Princess Lydia. No need to kill anyone."

"No, it is not fine! You two looked so great together and she just ruined it!" Stiles was pretty sure he could see the hell fire blazing behind the Princess's eyes. Pact with a devil was looking a lot more likely.

Sir Jackson arrived back with a drink, and Lydia downed it one shot that would make any sailor proud. She took another breath before turning back to Stiles.

"Alright, here's what you are going to do. You are going to go back out there, cut back in and send that blond bimbo packing!"

Wait what?

No!

He was horrible at confrontation! He couldn't do this!

Lydia, however, thought otherwise . "Alright now go! Go and get your man!"

"He's not my man!"

"Not yet at least!" And Lydia gave him a shove and he was stumbling back on the dance floor back to Derek.

Okay he could do this. He could do this. He was a Crowned Prince for god's sake. Okay here we go.

He walked up to behind the blond and tapped "gently" on her shoulder.

"Excuse me? May I cut back in?"

The blond gave him a look, and looked ready to refuse, but Stiles beat her to it. "For the purpose of improving international relations, of course."

The blonde seemed to then remember who he was and she nodded nervously before sulking away. Probably to go find Jackson again.

But he didn't really care because Derek was laughing and he was back in his arms and they were dancing again and Stiles couldn't help the irremovable smile that was plastered on his face.

Maybe balls weren't that bad after all.