xxi.
KING ALEXANDER CASIMIR'S DARK FACIAL skin seemed to glow like gold caramel under the pristine yellow lights of the chandeliers gleaming overhead as Isadora Tremaine straightened to her full height slowly and met his eyes.
He stood tall, his hands pinned behind his back and his gaze rested into her eyes like it belonged there-like though his countenance was bothered with emotions Isa couldn't exactly pinpoint, his gaze still fit in with her own like two pieces of a perfect puzzle.
"Your majesty," Count Vladimir broke the silence, and Isa was forced to tear her eyes away from the King's own and glance towards the Russian Count.
The man was grinning from pink ear to pink ear, his smooth white skin resembling those of the sculptures that the Romans had once very often built, a new one day by day. The confidence in the Russian Count's manner bordered on a very skilled unease while the overhead yellow lighting danced in his platinum hair, as though he was certain that no matter what he did or went on to do, his form could do no wrong.
"Magnificent ball," Count Vladimir uttered, with hard dimples in his cheeks that Isadora hadn't noticed before.
"It pales in comparison-certainly-with every other that I have attended, even in Russia," The man uttered an airy laugh, his blue eyes dropping to his feet briefly before they flickered up to meet Isa's eyes.
"Though I believe Queen Ariana would argue that the event has not yet quite started."
Isadora stayed silent, feeling suddenly out of place in face of this Russian Count's familiarity with the Queen mother of Angria. In the past days, she felt as though try as she might, the Queen hadn't let her venture close for her to even deign to speak of such familiarity with the female royal. Isadora had been held at more than an arm's length with civil propriety, so much so that she wasn't sure if that was because of the Queen's utter disbelief at her only son and ruler's fancy, in line with strict royal behavioral rules, or because Isadora and Archie were misunderstood to be carrying a disease that neither were entirely aware of.
She tried to tell herself that it was alright. She tried to tell herself that they were royals, and this Count too, was a nobleman. She tried to tell herself that there were walls around her that she couldn't cross because of the circumstances of her birth, and that was how it would forever remain. And that was alright, was it not? Some things existed high above that one couldn't reach, hold or mold, and that was alright.
The King of Angria spoke to the Count in a low tone, and Isa, lost in her thoughts, missed what he had uttered. His facial expression remained stoical as he had addressed Count Vladimir, and she couldn't read the words she had missed on his face at all.
Around them, the orchestra picked up again and couples joined up again on the dance floor, continuing their dances reluctantly. Isadora saw the Queen mother's extravagant form glide over onto the floor, gesturing with her diamonds clad thick wrists signals of encouragement towards the orchestra in the further corner of the room and towards the couples on the floor. Queen Ariana's face was slightly flushed, reminding Isadora of Lady Tremaine's own face when the woman took over the unspoken duty to mend Isadora's ways in front of people that were to only be pleased.
The flush of apology, and second hand embarrassment that those who created never really felt.
Having restored the ballroom floor situation back to it's required state, Queen Ariana waltzed over towards the standing forms of Isadora Tremaine, Count Vladimir and King Alexander Casimir.
In her observance, Isa hadn't again heard a single word being exchanged in between the Count and the King. The former talked with a brightness and civility in his tone, while the latter replied in a low tone that seemed to display none of the aforementioned qualities. Isadora was certain the King's tone was curt as much as it was low, and she was thankful suddenly that her mind was blocking his words out amongst the strums of the orchestra and hushed talking of the guests.
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𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 - Cinderella AU
Historical Fiction"Want, Isadora? I don't want you. I need you," The royal neared her, his dark jaw set tight as his sharp brown orbs bore into hers. "I need you to be mine," He husked, his voice etched with firm desperation. "I could raze this entire kingdom to the...
