A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. Big big thanks to Kris, as always. *heart*

First ficlet is highschool AU, the rest are set in canon.

Drowning

Jane wanted to drown. Perhaps she could fall into a patch of quicksand, or she could get eaten by a giant squid. Anything, anything but this. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring determinedly out to sea, while her classmates gaped, pointed and sniggered around her. She wanted to jump straight into the water and swim out until it reached her neck, but the teachers hadn’t yet given permission for the kids to leave the car park, and so she was stuck, humiliated and burning with shame.

It was all her mother’s fault. When Jane’s old swimsuit had finally reached the point of no return, Adeline had decided that a shopping trip was in order. She had bought her daughter dresses, and cutesy tops that she wouldn’t be caught dead in, but worst of all she had bought her a bikini.

In Jane’s opinion, and she had been giving it a lot of thought since she found out about the school excursion to the beach, bikinis were for women with the means to fill them, not girls who were feeling awkward enough about their bodies without giving people an added excuse to stare, thank you so much.

She had managed to keep her swim shorts, but had forgotten to pack a spare t-shirt to wear in the water, which led to her current, unenviable position.

Pepper, who had been trying to encourage Jane’s femininity for years, was beaming with pride. And Jester, loyal, faithful Jester, was trying to distract the others with terrible jokes, which only made the whole situation more painful.

Jane groaned, hugging herself more tightly and scuffing at the gravel with sandalled feet. Her humiliation was almost complete. Now all she needed was . . .

“You look ridiculous.”

. . . Gunther Breech.

Jane shot him an angry glare, but couldn’t stop the colour in her cheeks from increasing by a few shades.

Gunther ignored her expression, smirking calmly before turning slightly aside and stripping off his grey shirt.

There were a few girlish squeals from the onlookers, and Jane had to admit she was grateful for her already-present blush. Then Gunther turned back and pulled his shirt down over her head, crossed arms and embarrassing swimwear, until the hem brushed against her mid-thighs. His smirk widened as he stepped back, and then began walking towards the beach.

Jane felt gratitude swell in her chest, but it was quickly nipped in the bud by Gunther’s parting shot.

“Do us all a favour and wear a wetsuit next time.”

Dance

“Shall we dance?”

He asks it to tease her, because he knows she’d rather die than be ladylike in front of him, but she accepts anyway. She accepts because when they dance, in the heat and the dust or the rain and the mud, when their swords meet and their arms ache, when the sweat rolls down his face and he grins, she knows he understands what it is to truly dance in a way no other partner ever could.

Snow

Jane thought snow was wonderful. Wet and cold and often annoying, but wonderful. It turned the world into a clean, blank page, wiping away everything wrong, if only for a little while. So when she woke early one morning to find the whole castle blanketed in white, she sprang out of bed, pulled on her clothes, and hurried downstairs.

Smoke curled from Pepper’s kitchen fire, but the rest of the castle slept, and the yard was silent. After a furtive glance around, just to be sure, Jane spread her arms wide and twirled around and around until dizziness pulled her to her knees. She kneeled in the cold snow for several minutes, struggling to keep her giggles quiet, her breath misting in the air.

There would be snow fights today, and Lavinia would want to make snow angels, and Cuthbert would try to pour snow down his sister’s back. Gunther would probably try the same trick with her, Jane supposed. Jester would sing fast-paced songs and encourage everyone to dance to keep warm. Pepper would make thick pea soup, Rake would fuss about the delicate plants in his garden, and Smithy would work steadily in his warm forge.

Dragon would curl up in his cave and want to sleep all day. The king would smile happily out the window but not actually step foot outside, and Queen Gwendolyn would stroll about the garden, smiling wistfully as she thought of her old home. The two older knights would stay in their quarters, playing their war games, and Jane’s parents would sit by the fire in the great Hall, playing cards and chess by turns.

Jane stood, smiled, gathered a handful of snow and threw it high into the air, smiling and shivering as it fell in clumps on her head. Then she dusted herself off, and ran for the warm and dry kitchen. Oh, how she loved snow.

Unbeknownst to Jane, Jester, watching smiling from his tower room, shared her thought exactly.

Breathe

Sometimes, Gunther felt as though he could not breathe. When his father was making demands and the villagers were being unkind and he couldn’t perfect his training. When Jane was doing everything perfectly and he couldn’t seem to satisfy anyone, not even himself. When he had to work and train and clean up his father’s messes. When it all sat on his shoulders, pushing him down until it was all just too much, until he was suffocating under the weight of it and he just had to, had to escape, do something, anything to get away from it. And then everyone would look at him, superior in the knowledge that they would never behave so foolishly, so selfishly. And then, suddenly, the breath would come back in a great, heaving rush, and he would have to lean against a wall somewhere and breathe and breathe and not cry, until he could stand and swagger and act as though nothing was wrong, and learn how to breathe for another day.