[ in case you'd like to listen to some music during the ball that fits the whole theme of the book. ]
You were drowning in fabric as the gleaming, mysterious car had come to pick you up. The ballgown that the prince himself specially gifted you wasn't obnoxiously large, and after a few minor changes had been made, it hugged each one of your curves perfectly. Due to the restricted space of the backseat, it felt like your dress was suffocating you while the chauffeur drove you to the palace.
It was the night of the ball, and you were frightened. You already knew for a fact that nobody in the higher class would be accepting you - or at the very least, only the prince would be. This was your first step into the vibrant stage light of the wealthy class, and for once, you would be on the same level as them to inspect and gawk at you as much as they pleased.
"I must say, it's impressive to see somebody such as yourself climb to the top so quickly." The driver mentioned, breaking your train of thought. Your head craned away from the window-sill that showed you the passing scenery outside beginning to drown away into darkness. As you looked away, your orbs focused upon the rear-view mirror. Your eyes met with the drivers' reflection, and you could see the wrinkles forming near his temples due to his growing age.
"Well, I wouldn't say that I have made it to the top. I am just the same woman as I was barely a week or two ago, and I still have nothing to my name." You responded politely to the man. His eyes repeatedly averted from the mirror onto the road, illuminated by the warm and bright headlights of the car.
"You have the fact you work for the prince himself now. Surely that will attract some business for you?" The man carried on the conversation, determined to make some sort of small talk and save himself from the painful silence that once rested in the vehicle not too long ago. He seemed like the type who grew anxious from isolation and so was overly chatty to prevent his fear.
"It is truly an honour to serve the prince himself. However, I feel inclined to keep such information classified. If word broke out about the emperor hiring my fortune-telling services, I don't think my business could take the surge of reservations that would come. I would be booked out for the whole year at the very least. I guess that's just the power of the royal family's fame, especially among the upper class." You replied, suspiring at the thought of the enormous workload which would come your way if the news was made public.
"After all, I already have a generous salary from the prince. There is no need for me to worry any longer. If things continue to go North, I may be able to rent a better place to live in the foreseeable future." You added, a pleased smile on your lips as you already began to mentally say your condolences to the dump you were currently dwelling in. Anybody would be happy to live in a better place - your current home was so rundown and just about everything needed to be repaired.
"Oh! By the way, is there anything I should take note of during this ball?" You questioned the chauffeur, hoping that he could give you some insight. Since he was a chauffeur from the palace, he must have driven several members of the upper class here and there. If anything, he most likely knew more about you.
"Well, you should make a mental note not to stare too much at anybody or else you'll just cause them to spread rumours about you being lower than them. Most of the upper-class in this kingdom happen to be quite refreshing and relaxed. Each family has a unique sort of style, so there's not really an easy way to fit in." The driver confessed.
"Won't you look at that? We're nearly there." He mentioned as the palace began to come into view, its towering walls only letting outsiders catch a glimpse of the beauty within. You had barely been able to see them on your first visit to the palace considering you were fast asleep until you had arrived at the doorstep.
"It's hard to see the true beauty of the palace with those large walls in the way." You stated as the wall grew taller with each second that the car was advancing closer towards the barrier made of ivory stone. There were two gateways in the wall, one to act as an entrance and the other as an exit.
"Those walls were only built around fifty years ago during the civil war. If they had known there were going to be walls built around the palace, they wouldn't have made the exterior so eye-catching. After all, you've seen what the palace looks like behind them. I think many people would pay good money to see what it looks like without the walls once again. Photographs weren't even a thing back then, so we have nothing but paintings and sketches as a reminder of its former beauty."
"Well, it's stunning inside and out. I'm sure many people would beg to differ that the interior is even better. After all, as the home of the royal family, the palace was practically made to impress." You replied, thinking back to the time you had first entered the palace. The lavish lifestyle you had never known for once was right in front of you, and it felt as though for one moment, you had great significance in this kingdom.
You both arrived at the large, arch-shaped entrance lined with gold. The gate had already been open for the guests to have access to the palace. The car was readily identifiable as a palace car and thus swiftly granted access. As he drove up the winding road to the main entrance, hedges of different shapes and sizes could be seen on either side with several flower bushes and exotic trees scattered around to add unique pops of colour to the shrubs which were hidden with a blanket of snow.
Soon enough, he pulled over, and a kind butler rushed over to open the door for you as if you were somebody of great importance. You stepped out, your orbs focusing upon the pearl and white marble palace, the gold detailing seeming to dance thanks to the sunlight.
Any snow had been swept away, and the once sky blue carpet that was on marble steps leading up to the doors was replaced with a red carpet which was most likely only used during special occasions. The rug was probably there to lower the chance of any guests slipping on the overly-polished marble.
As you walked out from the black vehicle to timidly waddle your way into the palace, you could not notice the black irises watching you so intently from not so far above. Leaning over the palace's head balcony was none other than Bastiaan who had been waiting for your arrival in particular. He donned a plain tuxedo but with a black dress shirt instead of the usual white one. His hair had been styled in a way so that it was slicked back, (thanks to some shiny hair product), giving him a more refreshing and mature look than he initially had the previous times he met with you.
A silent overjoyed feeling rose in his orbs as he saw you wearing the matching white and black ballgown he had uniquely prepared for you. He was even more pleased to know that it fitted you wonderfully, inclining him to compliment himself on his fantastic sense of fashion mentally.
Once he saw you disappear through the palace entrance, the prince turned around and exited the balcony which had been located in a neglected guest room. He swiftly left, paying no attention to the decor. As he stepped out into the hallway, one of the butlers jumped at the sight of him.
"Your highness! We've been looking all over for you!" He exclaimed in a relieved tone. The butler jogged over to Bastiaan who immediately commenced heading down the stairs towards the ballroom. He had ordered the guards to take you there while waiting for him to greet you on your arrival.
"Your highness, you're not ready yet! We only have ten minutes left to get you prepared!" The butler yelled in a distressed tone as Bastiaan disappeared down the stairs to the first floor. He hurried by the tall and exotically-wallpapered walls, his feet beating harshly against the black jade ground as he advanced towards the ballroom.
He halted his fast pace in front of the large, golden double doors that appeared to have a whole story engraved upon them. They were wide open, showcasing the triple-tiered diamond chandelier suspending from the ceiling in all its glory.
The ballroom had a monochrome chevron floor that met with a large, round mural. It rested directly beneath the chandelier and illustrated an oil painting of a colourful garden with a mountain range peeking from behind. The walls were incredibly lanky with golden columns which seemed to draw one's attention to the renaissance mural adorning the ceiling.
At the back wall, there were broad arch windows with gilded grilles and a raised platform where two maroon velvet thrones rested, showing signs of sovereignty to whoever sat upon them.
In the middle of all this, the prince's dark orbs rested upon your back. His breathless lips pursed together in relief at the sight of you. Unexpectedly, he had missed you more than he thought he would. Nobody had ever made him felt this way before, so when he was around you, it was only more difficult for him to upkeep his distant facade.
"[Name], welcome. You have arrived earlier than I expected." He smiled, lying through his teeth. He had sent the car early for you to be reunited with him as soon as possible. There was no way for him to know quite just what was happening to him yet, but the more time he spent with you, the more he could find out what this addictive disease was all about.
"Ah yes, the car came to pick me up ahead of time. I have learnt all the names and faces off by heart of our three official suitresses so I can do my job more effectively." You remarked proudly. It had taken you a while to memorise their names and the basic information gathered from the notebook. And by, surprisingly, asking around.
"The guests should be arriving in around ten minutes," Bastiaan informed you, as he pulled back his sleeve to read the time on his quite large, silver watch.
"You must stay close to me at all times. When it is time to dance, you must stay by the side and wait until I have finished. When you speak, you must whisper your words to me. If spoken directly to, you must respond politely and in formal language. Those are the basic guidelines you must promise to follow for me tonight. Do you understand?" He interrogated you. His serious tone and aura inclined you to nod frantically and give him a sense of reassurance. After all, you did not want to let him down.
The tension in the air broke when the chamber orchestra began to play from the right side of the ballroom. You both had been so caught up by each other's presence that you had barely taken note of the musicians. They had started tuning their instruments and playing several notes to prepare ahead of time. Butlers and maids rushed in quickly to place newly developed food upon the buffet table before abruptly leaving. Several servants took place to the side in a drab black uniform, holding a tray in hand to serve hors d'oeuvre and alcoholic beverages to the attendants.
The lights were brightened in preparation for their arrival, signalling the spotting of numerous guests in the distance who had arrived a couple of minutes early.
"Ah, make that five minutes then. Do you have any questions?" Bastiaan inquired in a mollified voice as if the occasion did not bother him at all. On the other hand, you were practically trembling for fear. The only high-class person you knew was Abella, and she was incredibly relaxed and was a well-known socialite.
"Not at the moment, no." You shook your head to confirm with him.
Bastiaan walked over to the back of the ballroom and towards the windows. He took a seat at the smaller and less grand throne, a meter or two off centre from the larger one. You followed after him, pausing at the bottom of the steps, unsure what to do since he went to sit on his throne.
"My father will be here in several moments, [Name]. You are to stay at the bottom of this stage and wait until I rise. I have listed you down on the staff list as my private attendant for the night so make sure you act like one." His voice became more hushed as the shadow of his father arriving at the ballroom had come into view in the doorway.
You were able to sense the very presence of this man and turned around, bolting to the side, keeping your head down. Sweat began to form on your palms as you didn't even dare raise your head to look at the king in the eye. If you were to do so, you would be regarded as an extremely disrespectful peasant in this kingdom, and the succeeding generations of your bloodline would be too.
You heard heavy footsteps and the ringing of expensive jewels which decorated the king's tall and muscular frame. He had aged like fine wine; women still fawned over him. He wore an elegant velvet outfit that was completely black and red, and as he approached the stage, his footsteps rung louder and louder in your ears.
He paused for a moment, and two high-ranking palace staff members rushed over to remove his long cape and carry it away, out of sight so that the king could sit upon his throne in a more comfortable position. He then slowly walked up the stairs and sat on the larger throne. He sat as still as a statue before beginning to speak.
"I trust you will talk to the four women who you have told me you had in mind?" His father confirmed with him in a booming voice, speaking as though his question was more like an imperative. You shuddered at the mere sound of his voice. After all, the power dynamic you two had was beyond comprehension.
"Indeed, father," Bastiaan responded in a mellow tone. Of all days that he could act up against his father, he knew that tonight was not the time to do so.
After those words had been spoken, neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity. Yet as that, too, flew by, the guests who were earlier compiled in the lobby entered the ballroom. You raised your head mildly to sneak a peek at these guests who were dressed in the most outstanding of clothing. They appeared otherworldly, as though they did not come from the one you knew, and before you could even blink, the enormous ballroom was full to its brim.
After a minute or two of their arrival, the once silent ballroom had broken into music and chatter. As the guests had begun to settle in, some slowly approached the king to have a conversation. Most likely high ranking dukes and so forth.
Once his father had been distracted by conversation, Bastiaan managed to slip away and down the steps to socialise. It was time to get to work. With such a tight time limit to find a bride, every second was precious. He looked over at you and tapped on your shoulder to gain your attention. You immediately turned around, being cut out of your interested staring towards the guests.
"Shall we begin, [Name]?" The prince asked you, receiving a nod.
He began to walk into the crowd with you following close behind him. Before you could travel barely three meters into the ocean of people, Amery Smith had rushed up to the prince and stood right in front of his tracks. Her long and curly auburn hair had been neatly put in a bun, and her blue eyes contrasted with the pink and ivory ballgown she was wearing. It was over the top and eccentric, to say the least. But despite her sweet appearance, her eyes held the rage of a ravaging sea.
"Ah, Lady Smith. I trust you have received the news I sent to you?" Bastiaan questioned her, a careless smile on his lips as he tilted his head. He knew perfectly well that he was about to set her off, but it would be her loss instead of his.
He had ordered the news that she was no longer a potential wife to him to be sent earlier in the week after he had visited you and she was boiling with rage. Her hands were clenched into fists as she glared up at the young man who was not in the slightest taken aback by her fiery temper.
"How could you! Why would you do such a thing?" She yelled, not paying any mind to the level of her voice.
"Just because I wanted to." He reacted plainly, putting his explanation in short for her.
"But-"
"Amery Smith, you are unfit to be the queen. I mean, look at the childish behaviour you are displaying at the current moment." He elucidated, glaring at her with a judging gaze. She sighed angrily, and you could practically see the steam blowing out of her ears as you peeped out from behind Bastiaan.
"I am perfectly fit to be Queen! I have one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. What more could you possibly want? I am loyal, rich and beautiful. I don't mind sitting still and looking pretty if that's what you want!" She objected.
"That really just isn't my type. If you continue to object my decision, I'll see to it that you are excluded from the palace." Bastiaan coldly replied, brushing off her presence as he continued to walk by without a second thought. Sundry people had paused, but luckily, not many had noticed due to her voice being drowned out by the boisterous laughter and music from other people.
"Prince D'Aramitz!" She screeched, attempting to chase him through the sea of clothing.
Hearing her call out to him, he quickly grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him through the crowd until her calls and cries had been drowned out and were distant enough for the two of you to be reckoned as safe from the woman.
"I should file a restraining order against that bit-" He cut himself off from cursing, remembering his position and whom he was with at the current moment. He finally released the tight grip on your wrist, leaving a soft red mark from how strongly he had held onto you, determined not to lose you in the crowd. You rubbed your wrist gently to try and rid yourself of the mark that remained on your [S/C] skin though it scarcely hurt if at all.
He paused for a moment and noticed your behaviour, his eyes snapping to your wrist upon realisation. He seemed as though he were about to have a heart attack at the way his eyes had widened. His black irises looked apologetically at your skin, and he grasped your hand. He was promptly leading you to the corner of the ballroom, which was only a little way away to shield everybody's eyes from the sight of him raising your wrist to his lips.
You blushed a dark shade of wine-like red, your cheeks appearing to glow in such a luminous way as his pink lips tenderly began planting kisses all over your wrist. What in the world was he doing? You felt as though you were about to faint as he refused to cease kissing your skin.
Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as he suddenly licked your wrist. As he did this, his striking clouded orbs seemed to glare at you with an unknown desire before he finally pulled away.
"My mother said that kisses would ease the pain." He explained in a grave tone. You could tell from the way he spoke that he didn't have a clue how inappropriate what he just did was. He had been isolated from a lot of human interaction growing up, so maybe that was what had led to this weird behaviour he was showing to you.
Growing up, the only genuinely human interactions he could enjoy were with his mother and still to this day, he treasured those moments. When he had become scraped on the knee, his mother had kissed him to alleviate the pain.
He tilted his head, wondering if he had treated your wrist incorrectly due to your now flustered state.
"Is something the matter, [Name]?" He cross-examined you, only receiving a negative shake from your head as you were left speechless, not wanting to embarrass him.
"We better start scouting the other girls down, your highness." You decided to change the subject, voice still weak from what you had just experienced.
He perked up at the suggestion and neatened up his tie before clearing his throat, "Yes, you're quite right. Shall-"
"Your highness!" A voice yelled from the crowd. You jumped up at the call with alertness and stared past the prince to see none other than Odile Agnes. Her mature appearance did not fit her wild and easy-going personality, and just by her very presence, you could tell that what the prince had written in the notebook about her being 'wild' and 'bossy' was correct.
She stood there pridefully in her flamboyant dress that didn't seem fit for a formal ball. She wore a striking, fiery red gown that plunged in the middle of her cleavage and her dress was relatively tight-fitting in a lot of areas. It was an incredibly bold outfit for one to wear. It was slightly inappropriate since it was a ball and the general style of dress that women would wear were the traditional princess-style ball gowns.
Her bob-cut blonde hair had been clipped back with some matching hairpins, and her slender blue eyes seemed more striking in real life than they were in her picture.
She ran over to the prince, a broad smile on her lips. "I missed ya', D'Aramitz! I've been looking all over for you. I'm so glad you're thinking about marrying me.." She bombinated joyously, becoming more timid nearer to the end of her sentence.
"Good to see you again, Lady Agnes." He greeted her politely, making her burst out in laughter so suddenly that you felt your heart skip a beat.
"You still act so serious, D'Aramitz. I think that's one of the things I've always liked about you. You're totally my type." She announced confidently, expecting to gain some sort of reaction from him - but there was nothing. He didn't even blink when she had spoken that sentence.
"You aren't very much my type, Agnes. However, I feel as though you'd be a somewhat suitable queen for this kingdom."
After hearing that, you realised that this guy indeed had no filter and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. The only person he would hold back against was his father it seemed.
"Well, I don't mind that. As long as I have a chance of being married to you, I'll be happy. We can marry and fall in love later haha!" She roared as if she was tone-deaf. Besides, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? You sighed at the hopelessness of this woman; she was honestly too much even for you.
"Well, would you like to give me the honour of first dance? I reckon it will begin any moment now and I still haven't found a partner." Bastiaan offered, remembering his ultimate goal. He was here to find out as much intel about the suitresses as he could, and this would be the perfect chance to do so. Now that already one had been eliminated, he had much more time.
"I- I would be honoured!" She proclaimed, looking as if she were about to burst from joy. Her blue eyes squinted with happiness, and just on cue, the waltz music had begun to play. Immediately, nearly everybody rushed to the side. Since the ball was for the prince, it was only his duty to start the night of endless dancing and merriment.
He offered his hand to Odile Agnes, who immediately clasped his pale hand with her ashen one. He refused to pull her any closer but then fixed them into the proper waltz position before beginning to dance.
It seemed they were walking on air; each step moving in synchronisation to the beat as they drifted round and round the centre of the ballroom. You hadn't noticed, but Odile Agnes had already made several mistakes which did not remain unnoticed by the prince. Her hands were somewhat sweaty as well due to how anxious she was, and at this point, he was practically itching to get away. He feared that if they carried on like this, his toes would not exist at the end of the dance.
She accidentally trampled on his black leather shoes once again, her face becoming redder with each time she had done so.
"I'm so sorry. It is just that I am quite nervous, you see." Odile explained herself as she timidly looked up to the prince, not noticing that other pairs of people had begun to join the dance as the first verse of the song had now passed.
"Quite understandable and I cannot blame you, Agnes. However, haven't you learned to dance properly? A princess such as yourself should be honing and improving her skills so that her mistakes are at a minimum. You are meant to set an example and represent your people, are you not?" Bastiaan quizzed her, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Well... Well, I've been fairly preoccupied lately, so I haven't been able to practise as much as I hoped." Odile confessed, her grip tightening on the prince as she was wary of him feeling inclined to leave her in the middle of the dance.
"Busy going to unnecessary galas and matchmaking sessions?" Bastiaan questioned her, causing a loud audible gasp to be heard from her figure.
"Lady Agnes, I know all about your poor attempts to hook yourself onto a man. Is that really what is important to you? How must I expect you to stay loyal to me if we were to marry? Let's say you became queen and had an affair - the papers would go insane." Bastiaan explained.
"Prince D'Aramitz, it is embarrassing that you have received access to such information on my private life. I admit that perhaps my priorities have been in the wrong place, but I'm willing to change my fickle ways for you. Can you blame me? I never thought my time would come - the time where I could have a chance to be with you." She insisted, shielding herself from any more negative feedback.
"If you say so." Bastiaan's response was cut short as he soon spots you drifting by in the crowd, dancing with a young gentleman. His eyes widened at the sight, and his heartbeat spiked.
You had decided to take up Florian on his offer to dance. Abella had disappeared off to god knows where to uphold her infamous status as a socialite, unlike the somewhat withdrawn Florian you knew. You were surprised to see him there despite expecting his presence, and you could not deny that his ivory and golden outfit was angelic.
His grip upon your waist as you both soared throughout the ballroom was gentle, but he still managed to lead the dance with ease, aware of your lack of dance lessons.
"Please, feel welcome to call me Florian. Viscount Florian Von Faustus is such a mouthful." He made small talk as you danced, and sensing his touch on your figure, you felt as though you could finally be at ease. Perhaps you would be lucky and subtly learn something about your past.
As the music yearned on for several more minutes, you did not notice Bastiaan's wandering eyes which seemed to be glued upon you. His eyes only reverted to Odile when she would make the occasional attempt to revive the conversation. But it was never fruitful, and thus, useless; nothing could distract the envious feeling that was building up within him. Had the seed of jealousy been planted so deep in his heart without him noticing? It pained him to see you laugh with another man despite him barely knowing you. Soon, the jealousy worsened and near the end of the song, the moment that Odile had feared became a reality.
Abandoning Odile, he let go of her and pushed her away with enough force to rid him of her grip before he looked around the crowd of dances, his eyes fishing in the sea of music to find you.
After a moment, his eyes locked upon your figure that was not too far away and he squeezed his way past cautiously to reach you. He eyed the man, making a mental note of his ivory appearance.
As you enjoyed the talk you were having with Florian, you could not gain any inside information about your past which you had initially set out for. Despite supposedly only meeting each other, you could feel it in his touch that it was as if he had known you for a lifetime. You could see how he looked at you, with soft yearning eyes that seemed to be hiding a dark truth. You needed to discover the truth, even if it was the last thing you did.
Without a single word, your daydream-like dance had been interrupted by a dark figure hugging you tightly and sweeping you off your feet, carrying you away from your dance partner. Florian stood speechless at the scene that had unfolded in front of him, unsure about whether or not to chase after you since it was the prince who had just stolen you.
The prince transported you out of the ballroom in a haze before dropping you on the floor. You fell to the floor with a loud and painful thump and looked up at Bastiaan. Your eyes widened in a perplexed way, "Your highness?" You questioned.
"Who was he?" Bastiaan interrogated you, not bothering to explain himself. He towered above your figure. You sat on the marble floor, mum at the sudden occurrence.
"Who was who?" You asked, eyebrows knitting together.
"The man whom you were dancing with. Blonde hair, pale eyes and all?" Bastiaan queried you.
"Viscount Florian Von Faustus?" You said, wondering whether he knew him and if there was an issue with you dancing with him.
"Von Faustus? The military family from overseas?" He hummed and looked away from you before his black orbs reconnected with your [E/C] ones.
"I thought I had instructed you to wait by the sidelines for me, little lamb. Look at you, unable to get up." He spited you out of jealousy. He had no idea what had overcome him at that moment, but it was too late to turn back. His words urged you to stand up, and you did just that, with no sort of help. You clenched your fists and gave him a nasty glare for treating you in such a poor manner. Did he think it was alright to throw a lady around like a toy?
"He's a friend of mine-"
"You still disobeyed me."
"What do you think I am, a doll? You can't throw people around like that!"
He pushed you against the wall without a too considerable amount of force to injure you before cornering you. His hands stretched out and pressed against either side of the wall by your head, trapping you in a wall slam at the looks of things.
"Your highness-" Before you could object any further, his face became dangerously close to yours, only a few inches away. You could feel his warm breath hit your cheeks as he inspected your face close up.
"Well, you look like a doll. I apologise for my rash actions, but I can't have you disobeying me like that. After all, you're mine now." He purred into your ear the chilling reminder.
"Yours- Yours? Since when was I ever yours?" You echoed his words, bending down to move under his arms to escape from him. You were met with his leg which shuffled in the way, blocking your exit.
"Stay in this position if you want, I do not mind. People may get the wrong idea, though." Bastiaan stated as you crouched down in front of him. Embarrassed by the position and his words, you immediately bolted up straight and decided to grasp tightly on his arm, attempting to move his limb out of the way. Yet he just wouldn't budge.
After several moments of attempting this method, to no avail, the prince grew tired of your childish and weak way of handling the situation and grasped your wrists for the second time, slamming them up against the wall by your head so you could no longer move your arms. Pinned to the wall by the mischievous prince, a dark blush spread across your cheeks.
"Your highness-!" Before you could even endeavour to interrupt him, you cut yourself off. You were in such a public place, only just outside of the ballroom, and it would be easy to detect what was taking place. What had happened to the cute and loving prince you had met earlier this week? Did he have a split personality or something?
"I'll only let us continue with our night as we were if you apologise. Do you enjoy being this close to me?" He mumbled against your warm skin, not having a care in the world if you two were to be caught in the act or not.
A light blush on your cheeks, you nodded shyly. After all, you had signed on the contract that he could do with you as he pleased. You never expected such a thing to happen, but with how your feelings budded from that one night at the house you could only admit your curiosity as to how things would escalate with the prince.
In the dimly lit hallway, his lips could not resist your [S/C] skin, and he continued to hold you still as his small kisses slowly got lower and lower down your neck, planting kisses on you so gently.
"Do you want me to stop? How badly do you want to leave my grasp, hm? Now will you do what I have asked of you and promise not to defy me again?" He murmured to you, his hot breath tickling your neck as you felt the blood nervously pulsate in your veins.
You squirmed around, his hot breath sending shivers up your spine. "Stop it, stop it you fool!" But you were unable to release yourself from his grasp. Your calls were drowned out by the music, yet as you told him to stop, he paused, pulling away from your bare neck.
"What's the magic word?" He whispered, pausing for only a moment to speak.
"Please? I promise," You breathily respond. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks.
He finally pulled away, letting go of your wrists. You slumped over with your back against the wall, panting from what had just occurred.
"I hope that teaches you to be obedient." He spoke boldly despite the flustering experience as if it were nothing. He looked at your newly red wrists, his eyes easing up at the sight. He grabbed your hands, but before he could begin to plant kisses on you once again, you yanked your hands away.
A curious woman left the ballroom and faced the two of you, her amorous and smooth voice cutting the tension with a knife. Your head snapped towards her as she began to speak to the prince.
"I thought I saw you leaving the ballroom with a woman. I was hoping that you were finally going to add some spice into your life, but it seems like you were just lecturing a servant girl." She analysed, confirming your hope that she had not seen what had taken place between the two of you.
Stood right outside the bright light escaping the ballroom through the doorway was none other than Stella Hansen, the beautiful woman with black hair and honey hazel eyes. Her brown skin seemed to sparkle in the chandelier's motherly light as she interpreted the situation.
"Indeed. She evaded my orders, but since she is a fairly new staff member, I have decided to give her a direct word. I believe you won't be making any mistakes from now on, am I correct?" Bastiaan explained, his dark eyes glaring daggers into your form as if restraining and forcing you to comply with the cover-up.
You silently nodded your head up and down frantically in agreement as you then curtsied, wanting to show a sign of respect.
"Well, you know how peasants are. They can't get to our level no matter how hard they try." Stella Hansen claimed, sashaying her medium-length black hair behind her shoulders. She looked at the prince with an immodestly romantic glaze over her eyes. She slowly stepped over and outstretched her arm to rub some imaginary dust off of his suit. To you, it looked as though Stella were begging for an excuse to touch him and appear as his woman. You could tell from the plain black dress she was wearing. It was common sense at this point that the prince always wore black, so she had decided to wear black as well.
"Well, I don't think they want to be on your level." Bastiaan calmly responded. He was defending you from her harsh criticism as he knew how stuck up Lady Hansen could be. Stella looked somewhat taken aback by his response, not expecting the prince to say such a thing to her of all people.
You grabbed the cloth at the side of the prince's arm and tugged at it, catching his attention. He bent over so you could reach his ear, and you whispered to him, "You're supposed to try and win their affections."
The prince pulled away and susurrated into your ear, "I thought it was obvious that I already have."
"Excuse me, how dare you interrupt our conversation you lowlife brat!" Stella snapped at you as she closed the black fan that was once open in her clutch and advanced towards you. With one arm, she pushed the prince out of the way and raised her arm, the fan clutched tightly within it. You flinched at the sight of the incoming object she was about to beat down upon you as punishment and squinted your eyes shut.
The prince had grabbed her wrist, flinging her off to the side. He did with so much force that she stumbled into the opposite wall.
"How the hell have you not yet learned not to mess with what belongs to me? If she needs punishment, she'll get it from me. You're going to have to learn how to treat those beneath you with better respect if you wish to become queen someday." He lectured her before grabbing your wrist and hauling you along with him back to the ballroom. You looked at her with a moderately apologetic look.
You wanted to thank the prince for defending you in such a courageous way but for some reasons the words just couldn't leave your mouth. The way he had acted in such a short time had left you speechless and even as you returned to the ballroom, and he let go of your wrist, you still couldn't mutter a word.
He walked away, expecting you to follow behind his frame, and that you did. You followed his lead attentively, ready for anything that he needed. You were more than determined to upkeep your role and not break the simple rules he had given you earlier tonight.
It seemed he was scouting out for the final potential bride - Lilou Becker. It only took a few seconds to spot her as her white hair, and blue eyes made her easily distinguishable from the crowd. She was wearing a simple, plain white dress which contrasted well with the prince's outfit but then again, opposites do attract.
"Your highness." She addressed him and curtsied upon noticing him advancing towards her. He stood still, examining her every feature in such a judgemental way. She was the most respectful and mature woman out of the four.
"I have been hoping to bump into you tonight." She avowed, a light blush easing her dark cheeks.
"So have I. I wanted to tell you beforehand that when I have tea with you next week not to steal my bread again." You nearly burst out laughing at his request but bit your lip, muffling your giggles as you hid behind him.
"Ah, my apologies. I'll make sure to stay away from your bread then." Her cheeks blushed a brighter shade of humiliation as he publicly called her out.
"Do you want the chance to marry me sometime in the future?" Bastiaan caught her off guard, and she shyly looked to the side before nodding her head gently.
"Indeed, if you find me as a suitable bride. From what I've heard, I'm against Lilou Becker and Stella Hansen?" She confirmed with him.
"Correct. I hope you can give me the chance to speak to you more about the decision next week over tea."
"It would be my honour, your highness." She accepted his offer, a bright smile on her timid features.
"Very well, then. If you may excuse me." He said, walking off to the side of the ballroom to have a chat with you. You faced him, and he rubbed his chin in deep thought.
"So, what do you think so far?"
"I think you need to be more romantic or at least interested in them if you want to have a somewhat happy marriage." You told him, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow.
"This marriage is only for the benefit of my kingdom, [Name]. There is no need for such trivial things like love." Bastiaan complained to you as he ran his slender, pale fingers through his slicked-back hair.
"In that case, you should try to learn more about their hobbies, likes and dislikes, so on. We need to find out as much as possible about them to make the best choice. I am here not only to guide you but to make sure you make the best choice to lead this kingdom to a bright future." You explained to him as you rolled your eyes. You just couldn't resist doing the action; it was as if you were teaching a five-year-old how to romance some of the best women in the land.
You shook your head; he did not need to romance them. He already had them all wrapped around his finger. The current focus was to find the best one for the kingdom. At the moment, the best choice seemed like Lilou Becker, but she was too much of an enigma to tell just yet.
"Could you quickly do a tarot reading on my love life for me before you take your leave? I want to see what the future has in store and what I can do."
"I don't have any tarot cards with me-" Before you could speak another word, the prince took a golden tarot box out of his left pocket and presented it to you, urging you to take it.
"I can't accept this-" "If you don't accept my gifts, I'll have you executed." He pulled the same counter to your excuses once again, inclining you to take the tarot card deck into your hands. You had wanted to get a new one recently, but it was quite tricky to find a seller for them. You could tell that he had requested the cards to be made as the packaging had been customised to have your name written across it.
"Thank you, your highness!" You exclaimed, a broad smile on your lips. He nodded, a small blush on his cheeks as you thank him.
"It's your reward for behaving fairly well tonight and accepting your punishment." He claimed, clearing his throat nervously.
"Shall we get back to work then?" You suggested, to which he agreed. He led you back into the crowd, ready to socialise with the three suitresses for the rest of the night and into the early morning.
However, the sight of Abella in the hallway caught your attention. She looked like her hair and everything, in general, was in quite the mess, and her arm was linked with another man who definitely was not Florian. Was she unfaithful and fickle? Or were you just reading too much into what you had caught a glance at? She stumbled around, using the tall, middle-aged man for support as he led her back into the ballroom.
You continued walking as you watched this, only to face plant into somebody's firm chest and nearly fall backwards into a sea of people if it wasn't for the man to grab your arm and keep you from falling. You looked up to see none other than Florian, with a concerned look on his face.
"What's the matter, [Name]? What were you so caught up looking at?" He asked, a soft smile on his features as he pulled you back onto your feet. It seemed as though while you were distracted, you had lost Bastiaan in the crowd and ended up bumping into Florian once again. Only several moments later, none other than Bastiaan had returned when he realised he had lost you.
"[Name], if you're going to have such a hard time following me around, you might as well just hold my hand." He reprimanded, hands on his hips as his dark eyes glared at you for leaving his side without his knowledge. You sighed at the dilemma before you. You didn't know if you should tell Florian what you had seen or if that would just make him feel unsettled for no reason at all. However, your small mental debate had come to an end with the interruption of the prince himself.
"Ah, it's you," Bastiaan stated flatly as his black irises stared at Florian. He was quite a bit taller than Florian since he was that tall. He crossed his arms and sighed before cutting in between the two of you. He forced Florian's hold on your arm to break as he stood in front of you, presently scant inches away from Florian.
"Please don't touch what belongs to me without my permission. She's mine." He spat out venomously at Florian in such a calm tone, as if he had not threatened the Viscount Von Faustus.
"Ah, she merely fell over so I thought I'd help," Florian explained, a nervous laugh escaping his lips due to the proximity and the breaking of his personal space.
"Thank you very much. I shall see you around Viscount Von Faustus." He declared before grabbing onto your wrist to drag you away with him for what seemed like the millionth time tonight so you could both proceed with your ultimate goal.