24 Hours With a Prince

hope is a beautiful thing

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked perfect. My dress hung nicely on my frame, the gold glinting gently in the light. I slipped on a pair of blue, satin shoes - they matched the shade of my dress beautifully. I quickly studied my makeup in the mirror, and after realising there was nothing more to do, I left my room with the clack of my heels.

I gradually descended the marble staircase , whilst watching the crowd below be disperse into the ballroom slowly. My breath hitched and my steps faltered.

There he stood. Handsome as ever. He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me. Directly, at me. He chose to wear a black suit for the ball, adorned with many silver chains and buttons, all of them glinting in the candlelight.

His hair looked gently tousled, but he managed to make it look effortlessly eloquent.

My legs seemed to keep leading me down the stairs, even when my brain had given up. I soon reached the prince, feeling so small stood by his side.

“Princess” he greeted, extending his hand. I reached out with mine, my hand lying atop his. He brought our hands up and brushed a kiss onto the back of my hand. It made my heart flutter, but was nothing more than a kind gesture. At least for him. I however, would treasure this moment forever. His eyes finally left mine, dropping down to search my dress. His eyes trailed down from my face to my toes, and back up to rest on my collarbone, and god, how I wished we could stand here forever, not talking, just together.

We silently entered the ballroom, still not having spoken more than a word to each other. As soon as we had entered the room I tried to make a break for the alcohol, hoping it would make this more bearable. That was when his hand grabbed me and spun me towards his body, my chest colliding with his.

I could tell his eyes here on me once again, but I couldn’t bear to look up and see hatred in his eyes, when all I wanted to see in them was love. For me. For us.

He led me gently over to the centre of the room, my dress gliding across the floor after him. I finally looked up and met his gaze.

They were filled with a question. I look to his hands, hovering around my waist, waiting for my permission. I smile, and nod - surprised by such a sweet thing.

He rested his hands on my waist and it felt like they had been made for it. They molded  perfectly around my hips; leading me around the floor in time with the song.

The song was a slow one. Not mournful, or sad - but not happy and upbeat either. It was nice thought. It reminded me of what it was like to feel hope. Hope for my future. My country. My love for him.

Hope is a beautiful thing.

:)