The Worst Kind of Wonderful

Chapter FIFTEEN

The royal ballroom was decorated with gold and silver, all attendants in the finest and strangest garb either of them had ever seen. Christine spotted the king and his foreign queen, a hawk shifter, standing at the edge of the room eyeing their guests. They were, undoubtably, searching for their son and Elizabeth to see if they had found one another yet but had not seemed to notice the girl under her the silver cloak of her mask or the white feathered dress that consumed her.

Every movement was choreographed, every dance was precise and the sound of song filled the air. Christine found herself wondering where George was in the sea of hidden faces. Elizabeth floated through the room, separate from her sister, finding herself a step behind the king and queen who no longer bothered to conceal their faces, opting instead to grasp the handle of their disguise as a half hearted attempt to fit in. Obviously hoping for recognition so they could part the crowd around them.

All was merry until the sound of thundering footsteps silenced the music and an eerie dark poured over the room. Every head turned and every breath caught until there was only silence. A man. A man who most nights may even have been considered a boy. A man who was fashioned in the very richest robes dyed a vibrant red devoured the room with his presence. The secrecy meant to be maintained by his disguise was fruitless due to his obvious lack of control over the power that radiated from him, demanding with the loudest silence to be noticed. Christine's breath was unsteady as his agonizingly slow and suddenly and deliberately silent decent down the stairs and into the room continued. Every soul in the grand ball found their mind to step back, all but Christine who stood frozen like a fawn in danger, waiting for the opportunity to run, eyes wide, posture stiff with nerves.

"Those eyes." Were the only words she could process. Those eyes that cut through his mask like a flame through darkness, like a knife to her sanity. Something was stirring, something was happening that was entirely public and yet so very private that some felt the urge to look away. That something, was between the man, the prince, and his fiancées "kid sister" (as she was often called). Fire melted, magnets tugged, eyes encapsulated until the two were face to face, eye to eye. They knew. But faster and louder then a bullet from a gun the prince John was up in a plume of fiery anger.

It was only then that Christine could feel George's hand at her wrist. Stealing John's attention from the girl that had taken him and staking a claim that the prince believed to be reserved by pure fate for only he himself. One moment the future king was leaving in a fit of rage up the grand staircase and the next Christine realized that she she was being tugged along with him. Struggling to keep pace as John almost carried her upward but still in her cloud of shock Christine was able to make out the face her beautiful fair haired sister in the sea of masks and gold. She was a broken porcelain doll. Her sturdy yet gentle, opinionated yet soft spoken, flame of a sister had been put out in a single breath of time.

She was only able to focus on that image for so long before she was plunged into a pool of darkness. A darkness that went up in smoke as they reached a hall lined with torches that twisted and squirmed, taking over the space of shadow, that spat sparks that shot up before floating to the stone floor like fallen stars.

Though they were alone Christine could still hear murmurs of confusion from the ballroom below. Those voices made her feel as though they were there watching them. She felt exposed, like she was on a stage in front of everyone in that grand room, like she was on display.

The princes mask had transformed in the dimly lit hall, becoming dark in contrast to the blazing flames. The attraction was palpable, but as she stood there looking into his dynamite eyes, she couldn't erase the face of George Brams. In the images that swirled through her head, a crowd of people watched her, his face standing out among the rest. She knew there was no going back now that her mate had found her and she him, but she couldn't help the sweet memories that invaded her head from appearing.

Images of her and George came in and out of focus as the great choice rang in her head. Her heart beat fast, mind abuzz with images of her past and confusion about her future. Her head was up in flames as the images flashed in her thoughts, out of control. She needed to get out. There was a riot in her mind and suddenly she was plunged into darkness again as her eyes fluttered closed. Then the answer was clear. She had to see George. Christine looked up at John who was too preoccupied in watching her, in taking her in, to notice her inner turmoil that showed just slightly in the furrows in her brow.

"I'm sorry." She spoke the first words she ever had to him, and then she was gone. Out of the hall. Down the stairs. Through the crowd. And past the threshold. But she was followed: not by the prince, not by her sister, but by her ever loyal companion George Brams. They ran that night, and never stopped running. But without her soul, her life was empty, she felt her love for George over time erode into a solid bitterness.

Prince John married Elizabeth Levine but the line of succession and reign of the alpha kings ended without an heir, King John always guarding the hope that his Christine would return, refused to complete their bond. They all often wondered what life they would have led if she never ran. If George never followed, would she come back for her soul mate? They would never know. As the years dragged on, a life on the run that never held adventure was all Christine would know, and a life of luxury that never made him happy was all John could have.

And they all lived on, dignified and indifferent on the outside, but in true despair, ever after.

~*~

I looked down at Harper and noticed a pool of tears floating at the brim of her lashes, I felt guilt bubble up within me before she spoke, "That was sad Mia." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve before sitting up straighter and continuing, "but it's my new favorite story book. It didn't have all the happy stuff, but I liked it because it talks about mistakes. It says that even girls who are meant to be princesses can make their own choices, even if they make the wrong ones."

"I think you're right, that's a good message to take from it. You make your own fate, for better of for worse."

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Video of the Chapter: This Masquerade(thisstory told in clips from the movie version of my favorite musical: The Phantom of the Opera) link- http://tinyurl.com/themasqueradestory