The Queen Of Eternity

They'll mess up this chapter in the movie

A ball.

A ball in the midst of a fallen rebellion.

I'd rather kicks his balls.

"Hello, Esmeray," My father's says.

I look at him, standing beside the door.

"Happy Birthday."

Do I look happy to him?!

"Thank you, sir," I manage to say without gagging.

He rubs his golden rings on his black tunic before giving my clothing an approving nod and walking away.

I slam the door shut and strip off the dress.

What? I like pissing him off.

»»-----♔-----««

The ballroom goes silent as my father walks in with me.

He yelled at me about the dress. Which made me ecstatic.

The silence, though, is too loud. I swear, you could hear a hairpin drop.

My father walks up to the throne but I stand in the middle of the ballroom as everyone drops to their knees.

Not to pay respect. In fear.

The princes eye me like another piece of land in their wishlist that they want daddy to buy.

The guards beside me eye me like an animal that can pounce and snap at any moment.

The people aren't all strangers but neither are they friends.

Atleast a dozen hands surround me, all expecting a dance.

I smile as courtly as possible before taking the hand of the first prince.

He twirls me around, his nervous and shaky hands vibrating against my back.

Instilled in every royal child of Queloband is the finest court decorum. One hair out of place and you see all the different functions of a belt.

   One after the other, I dance with each prince in the ballroom. I twirl and sway until my feet hurt.

I catch Luke looking at me with sympathy.

None of these idiots can dance, I mouth.

Dancing is an art form. It's submitting yourself to the music as the whole world fades away.

And all these idiots can do is either sweat too much or shake and grip me so hard I want to kick them in the shins.

I plop down on a chair, a glass of red wine swirling in my glass.

My head hurts. Don't get me wrong, I love dancing.

But not with boneheads who are so spoilt they can't even breathe before yelling at someone for no reason.

"Tired?" Azrael's voice questions.

I nod a reply as he stands a few inches away from my chair. He knows he can't sit beside me. That would be "inappropriate" because I am an criminal/assassin/princess whose father's money everyone lusts for.

"Come with me?"

I frown in confusion before asking, "Where?"

He offers me his hand in response.

I accept as, ignoring the glares he's getting.

    He leads me outside into the hallways, away from the ballroom and into my balcony.