Title: Harlequin

Summary: Wherein Cloud is not a courtesan but Sephiroth is still a General. Welcome to the King's Ball. Seph/Cloud, girl!Cloud.

A.N.: In honor of Asuka Kureru and makokitten, without whom this story wouldn't even exist, much less be here on FFnet. On the other hand, this is all their fault. Personally, I still can't believe I was trying to write chick lit.

The castle's main hall was supposed to be beautiful. It was draped in silk and golden finery, it was glamorous.

It was gaudy, Cloud thought behind a well-practiced smile.

She was dressed to match, tonight: her dress velvet, low-cut to emphasize her (very modest) cleavage, tight on her corseted torso to show off her curves, a shade of rich purple that was supposed to somehow "bring out" her eyes. The dress was, according to the women she asked, absolutely decadent – which was a good thing, since that was exactly the impression she wanted to give. She needed to fit in.

The jewelry she wore finished the ensemble. Of course it was all glass, but it shone, and that was the important bit.

She was somewhere between amused and disgusted at the whole costume: mostly disgusted, but all that she asked was that it did its job, and then she could be away from this dangerous place and these ridiculous clothes. All that they need to be complete, in her opinion, was that the rings were hollow so she could put poison inside, and the thought made her smile. She'd be much less annoyed at the size of the things if they did have poison inside, because then they'd be more useful, but as it was the reason she had chosen them like this, rather than tastefully discreet, was that they'd make good brass knuckles in a fight.

But alas, the poison rings were too well-known, these days. No, she was keeping her poison in a brooch, hidden on the inside of the outrageous dress.

Cloud wasn't usually a courtesan, though she'd been told she was pretty enough to pass for one – if she did something about that crazy hair, and stopped working out so hard, and put on some weight, and then they could start on her manners. All in all it seemed like too much trouble for a life far too full of subtleties and complications and, frequently, unhappiness, and Cloud was rarely ever in the mood to deal with so much nonsense.

(She had found unhappiness enough in her own life already.)

It was unusual for Cloud to be thus dressed, and it was unusual for Cloud to be acting like this, but it was not at all unusual for the ballroom in the castle to be thus decorated and filled: the current King, for all his shrewdness and political savvy, had become more and more open about his liking for opulence and indulgence. The court, said certain people, was absolutely decadent nowadays (always said with emphasis on the "absolutely decadent", the tone ranging from severely disapproving to secretly delighted). And among those people were the ones who had decided they would no longer stand for it. But of course they wouldn't do anything themselves – not in the sense that they were willing dirty their own hands. They were too discreet or too afraid to do that, but they were willing to pay someone to do so in their place, and therefore Cloud was being welcomed into the Castle for a ball meant to invite whores, dressed to match and carrying poison with her.

Granted, she'd be much happier entering through the back door, dressed as a servant and carrying a blade instead. Maybe several blades, just for safety. But even when the King's General was away, there were too many excellent watchdogs within the palace to risk such a plan.

The first thing she noticed upon entering the ballroom was that all the information she's been given about the place's security was now absolutely useless. She would have wondered how could her information be this wrong, and if she had been set up somehow and this was actually a trap – if she hadn't seen the man sitting at the side of the King, watchful eyes scanning everybody who passed through the door.

…truthfully, he was hard to miss.

General Sephiroth was well-known across the continent as one of the greatest fighters that had ever been born, as a strategist without equal, as a ridiculously handsome son-of-a-bitch. She had to admit she still hadn't quite expected it, however – word of mouth said he had silver hair, and she had been expecting him to look strange and out of place.

He certainly looked strange – he looked as strange as an elven prince would, standing in the middle of a gathering of mortals. She would never expected anyone to look so handsome, so regal, so otherworldly.

When she realized she was in danger of staring, she huffed – annoyed with herself, she knew better than this, she was better than this – and turned away. Until she felt eyes on her. And, searching, felt it was him.

Annoyed still, and with her pride smarting, she turned again and held his eyes, defiant, not quite realizing what the surprise in his eyes meant until it was too late. By the time she turned away again, she knew the mission might be ruined. She had acted, somehow, just a bit differently than the usual, and she had his interest now.

For the first hours of the ball, she thought she'd managed to slip by unnoticed after all. Aside from the occasional thoughtful look in her direction, the General seemed to leave her alone; and none of the guards seemed to pay her any attention.

It was, however, all but impossible to approach the King unnoticed. She noticed how he was quietly kept to well-known courtesans, and who she assumed to be his regulars; she noticed how the guards didn't linger on her or anybody else, but didn't pass anybody over either. She had been quite prepared to poison other people besides the King, but she saw now that such a ploy wouldn't work, either.

The security here was too good. Of course, the presence of General Sephiroth must be very encouraging to his men – just as it was a great deterrent to her. By now, the only true chance she had to succeed would be to sneak into the King's bedroom while he was occupied, and she doubted the King wouldn't be well-guarded even then.

This was ridiculous. The mission had been a bust from the beginning; now it was time to just cut her losses and go.

She disliked the idea intensely – it hurt her pride, and she was naturally stubborn besides. So she stayed and observed long past the point of prudence, looking for that one weak point that would allow her to complete her mission. She kept herself amused by keeping track of the General, who seemed to be very much annoyed by all the attention being showered upon him. The only person who made his cold eyes soften was a young man with spiky black hair and an easy smile, who regularly talked to him and often made him smile.

She idly wondered if they were lovers. She hoped not; the young man had been looking at her with assessing eyes for a while now, and she was in no mood to be either the victim of the jealously of a lover or the target of an offer for a threesome. …Not tonight, at least.

It was after being pestered by the black-haired young man yet again that the General suddenly got up and started making his way towards her. Cloud allowed herself a small moment of panic before assessing the situation: it wouldn't do to try and make her way out now; if she got caught now, it would be her own damn fault for staying so long.

(Except it would be the fault of whoever sent her on this damned mission too, and she swore that if she got caught here and now she'd break out and hunt her employers down. And make them suffer.)

He reached her.

He bowed, and asked her for a dance. (On the other side of the room, the black-haired young man was grinning proudly.)

Dancing with Sephiroth was nothing short of amazing. Cloud supposed, vaguely, that they were just compatible, seeing as she had never had quite such a strong reaction to merely dancing. They talked, a bit, enough to get a feel for each other; they danced, moves perfectly synchronized, disregarding the stares and whispers that followed them.

A part of Cloud was metaphorically smacking herself and moaning about the attention of others and the evils it brought. The rest of Cloud was thoroughly enjoying the night and telling herself to shut up already.

And so it was that when Sephiroth suggested they head back to his bedroom, she had a moment to think of her mission, and another to think I am not being paid enough for this shit, and another to say yes.

What shall be said of their night together?

Neither of them bothered with niceties or the motions of seduction. They were on each other before the door had fully closed, and if there was tenderness in their movements it is safe to say that it was incidental. They were almost fully clothed for their first joining, both of them too impatient to get the clothes off safely; there'd be time enough for that later.

When they did get around to taking off the clothes, they did it slowly, each hungrily looking at the other. Let it not be said, however, that they looked at the other and thought of anything but their own pleasure. Let it not be said that when she rode him she was setting the pace for his sake; let it not be said that when he pushed into her body he was careful because he was thinking of her comfort.

Neither of them were gentle persons. There was no romance there.

They had a good night.

Most morning afters are awkward enough when one of the bedpartners does not find poison in the other's dress.

Unfortunately for Cloud, she woke up, missing the arms that had been around her, to find that said arms had been busy with her dress, finding her brooch, opening it to find the poison inside. She briefly considered throwing a fit over privacy and leaving other people's things alone; then she took a good look at the General's face, decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and brained him with the bedside vase.

The General hadn't been expecting it, which was possibly why she managed to do it. He didn't go down, though he swayed on his feet: her hit had been too weak. She snarled and hit him again, properly, this time. He crumpled, and she caught him before he hit the ground, and – with some difficulty, the man was much bigger and heavier than she was – put him on the bed, as quickly as she dared.

She didn't bother putting the bothersome dress back on: she didn't plan on being seen as she left. She stole some of the General's clothing instead, and then left. She was sure he'd raise the alarm as soon as he was awake, and she planned on being at least halfway gone when that happened.

Sephiroth felt very much like pacing. And like frowning. And like punching something, too, but he controlled himself.

By all reports, his—yesterday's girl (and she had been a girl, not yet a woman) had somehow slipped past his security and left the Castle already. But that mattered little enough. He'd find her again.

She wasn't getting away from him.