This is an old one written in April of 2013. Still unfinished, sadly. I had in mind a headstrong princess, but the more I thought about it the more it started to sound like an old Disney movie. Bleh. Hell, that might have been the inspiration for it; it was so long ago I have no idea now, ha-ha. So this is all there is to this one; poor girl doesn’t even have a name.
As I fiddled with one of the many layers of my dress, countless suitors and family and friends came to greet me. I kindly nodded to them, smiling and grasping hands and kissing cheeks, though I wasn’t exactly paying them any mind. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be out of this room…’ I thought, a sigh escaping my lips. ‘And how I hate yellow… My maid must be blind or daft.’
My father had decided I’d been putting off finding a husband long enough, and had concocted a scheme in which I would be forced to choose a young man to marry. In normal circumstances, my family being no exception, girls were married off… young. But I somehow managed to convince my father to wait until now. Our family’s financial situation was also a deciding factor, and that age nineteen was ‘too old’. No one would want such an old shrew…
“Wine, Princess?” I looked up as one of the young servants came to me with a tray of wine glasses, filled with some of my father’s best. He was trying to greatly impress the guests tonight, I could see. I nodded and gave my thanks as he wandered off. Twirling a strand of hair about my finger, I meandered out to the balcony, hoping for some peace and quiet. It was far too loud in the ballroom.
I apparently came too late for solitude. A silhouette stood out against the night sky, leaning against the railing and absent-mindedly swirling wine round in the glass it clasped lightly. I stood for a moment, unsure if I should proceed or leave this person to their thoughts, when the figure spoke. “You may join me, if you wish.”
“I was unsure if I was welcome,” I replied, stepping up to the balcony rail as well. I glanced sideways, and my breath hitched in my throat at the sight of him. It felt as though I’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow… even though I knew nothing of him.
In the dim light, I could make out the high cheekbones, the gentle curve of his neck, his little pointed nose… It was too dark to tell the color, but his bright eyes reflected the clear night sky, the stars and crescent moon, and his blond hair curled about his ears lightly.
I felt my cheeks burn red; I’d never thought so poetically in my life.
The young man chuckled, a rich sound that had me smiling, even though I knew not what his laughter was for. “So, my dear, why are you out in the dark? Wouldn’t you rather dance inside? It’s much livelier and warmer.”
“Oh, no,” I said, laughing a bit myself. “It was awfully stuffy. And… I’m not much of a dancer.” ‘What a lie!’ I was actually rather good at dancing, and liked it as well.
“Well, maybe not with those lads inside. That and they all have one thing on their mind tonight. However… could you make an exception for me?” He turned his head to look me in the eyes, and I felt as though I was melting.
I could only nod, and we strode about the balcony to the music inside. I felt at home, in his arms. And I hoped he felt the same.