>>6037224You are Lorina de Lindan and everything is wrong and you can’t take it anymore. You’ve been at the Semesters End Ball for hours, even dealt with the hooligan who spiked the punch with alcohol, yet he still hasn’t approached you for a dance. In fact, Albrecht seems to be trying to not even look at you. You’ve tried to get his attention on multiple occasions yet each time one of his four friends, some the heirs to the highest positions in Lindan, has sabotaged you. Percival de Bloodgrave being the only one of them to at least have a short waltz with you, seemingly out of pity. You hated it.
No one else seems to have dared to try and ask for a dance either, the lower-rank nobles are too intimidated by your royal status while it almost seems like those of higher ranks are avoiding you. You expected to be flooded with men attempting to win your favor on this night, the same as Arthur’s stories of the event, but even the middle-rank nobles seem put off by you. Have your vassals the terrorized Anastasia sullied your reputation that much? You already made a show of disciplining them publicly so why does everyone's cheer seem to dissipate when they see you? Or worse act like they’re a part of a joke that you were not invited to.
You’re royalty, this room should be one that you have under solid control. The people here should be trying their hardest to appease you, making blubbering fools out of themselves during the attempt. Yet, instead, you feel as if you were a peasant who wandered into an unfamiliar land where she doesn’t belong. Even though your dress is the most magnificent here, your hair sparkles under the moonlight and your makeup is by far the most beautiful. You even have Albrecht’s dagger hidden under your outfit to give yourself confidence during the night. So why do you find yourself lacking it when the smiles of your peers turn mocking?
You find yourself forced to retreat to your lonesome on the balcony. Your only company is the brisk chills of the spring night. You can see the capital light up for seemingly miles from here. People go about their night unaware of the politicking happening in the halls above them. Two catch your attention, a tall rugged man and a short pretty woman who live in a seemingly different world than you, they wave to you from past the Academies gates, your heart pulls in their direction and you find yourself wishing to walk away from these gilded halls in their direction. But before you can the loud clacking of heels and shoes turns your attention away from them and back to the ball. A slow dance has started and one couple is being given center stage, Anastasia Lyndale and Albrecht Von Herrman. The world slows as you watch the two of them dance, smile, and cherish each other as you stand alone on the cold balcony. Then if only to add to your humiliation the night only gets worse. For your nightmares are made into reality, the impossible is made possible.
