"What are you, a teenager?"
She had a blank face still plastered on her face, facing motionless towards the front entrance barracaded with old metal and copper fenced gates.
"State your business." The robotic man voice tone sounded.
The man said for the countless time, her still standing for the last 2 hour she has been there.
"I told you, I'm here to attend the royal party. Ball." She explained again.
"Madame, you have no identity, refused to show your student card, visa or, driving license and refused to bring your passport. You are not to be let in. " The automatic voice said.
"I'm- I'm sorry young woman, but if you have no card, you can't get in." The shrivelled, shaking voice said. She spun to see a man in his mere 90's came up. And she saw with irritational envy at how easy he was able to enter. The door opened for him and he smiled at her already wide eyed-balls, sparkling under the white moon.
He smiled an inch wider before stepping an inch, took a large step then another inch. To which she concluded he was in the mode of walking.
"Where the heck is that man." She muttered under her breath. Cursing him almost at the center of her mind for being late, leaving her and don't even mention about bailing. Her feet had been stepping on those few inch heels and her ankles are killing her.
The thought of sitting down did come to her mind. At the sidewalk of the grass, as the pavement was apparently the entrance to the gate itself, which she was smart enough to figure out it would be as embarrassing as wearing a bikini to a ballroom, let alone a secluded castle- the only one in this islandic town. Might as well shoot her and bury her under the earth, letting the earth swallow her whole.
She had been staring at nothing. Blinking when she must. Not a single thought of importance came to flash her mind.
Until she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Finally-" She heaved a breath. "You moronic monkey-"
She stopped as it wasn't the man she was thinking of. Only to meet a gentleman in a tuxedo of a red bow, a white lily on his right pocket and a mask only on one right eye.
She almost let out a breath of a whistle but stopped herself.
"I'm sorry, but you're holding the line."
He said politely.
Her mind went blank as she had nothing to say or words that could reply to his sentence. The slow, gruesome of no reply was replied by a tiny smile. It didn't help as it made Ave feel like a ticking time bomb.
"I'm sorry, but do you not have the special card?" He pulled out a yellow one. A similar color but this one was darker like a bronze and more 'immortal' -like if it had to be described.
He smiled in return.
"It's alright. I'll make sure you get there." He nudged his chin, putting a hand over her shoulder.
She looked up at his face, a little bit too staring. Not that she can make a full face out of him. Just a detail of his gorgeous features and eyeballs-of a color. Green.
Blue.
It didn't make sense that her neck started having neck pains. It gruesomely dawned on her teeny-tiniest brain call that she was staring a bit too long.
"Aren't you a little bit young to enter this castle gala?" She noticed he didn't look down to look at her, still standing at her, his warmth seeping through his jacket as he was still infront, holding the line, doing nothing with a hand still gripped across her shoulder.
"A friend invited me." She quickly answered.
It was more like a one quicky friend who spoke proudly of their friendship and bailed, and left her to die of embarassment in front high-borne people.
The tension and atmosphere in addition to her small stature- a little bit taller of a few inches than last week- didn't help the currently gruesome situation of a charming, handsome young man who just met a middle-aged woman who's a sucker for eye ball colors.
Coloring. She corrected.
It was then at the same exact moment she silently thanked god she didn't sit at the sidewalk. Her feet and calves were killing her.
Ave didn't bother to ask why the man was still standing there. Which she didn't bother to question.
It didn't occur to Ave that she was already amongst the royals that the bastardic man in the restaurant said, describing they were beyond royals of the universe.
To which she she had quickly forgotten of their friendship and sworn to never cross bodies with him again, since the next time could really be the death of her and now she couldn't think of anything that could get this man to speak and enter the gate already, neither open her own mouth.
"My lady, would you hold my hand?" The man smiled, asked politely, holding a hand out.
"Okay. Yes." She let out freaky smile, her eyes agaped a little.
"Now." He put their hand down resting at his side. "Just follow and don't wander off, okay?" He gave a little reassuring smile, looking, meeting her eyes.
She nodded with out question and looked straight at the copper gate.
"A vacant of 2 please." He smiled, looking straight towards the microphone of the voice security she bickered with a few moments ago.
"Okay- but the young lady-"
"Ah-ah. She's with me." He smiled, gently pulling her shoulder towards him, slightly bumping against his warm chest of his left.
She can't help but widen her eyes and took a sharp intake of breath.
She wondered if they ever found out if she was not a royal and if they did, would they kick her out?
"Door's open." The robotic man said flatly, replying, his happy disappointment of abstract meaningfulness entered her ears.
Safe. She said. Is she? The man who promised to come and be her date to the ball didn't come. Never appeared. Instead, a tall, handsome gentleman- totally her type-of a man appeared, held her hand and gave warmth to her senses which she doesn't know how to respond to. And now her mind is a jumble of flatterness, happiness and a delirious feeling of being able to do whatever that she wanted tonight.
That is available within the party.
But what about the man who wanted to come in together with her?
"Are you talking about the man who just stood behind the line, saw you and turned his tail back and ran?"
Ave stared at him shocking, a little bit too shocked to the core.
"We royals can read people's minds." He gave a tiny cheeky smile at her eyes.
Ave wondering whether it was true or not.
"It's a thing of the past. And besides, I- we," He gestured to the crowd, "Can read you like an open book."
"A-are you a dead vampire-" She quickly
sputtered out to which was replied with a hilarious grin to his eyes.
She slightly slapped him.
"And since you're so blushed to the cherry core, do you know what this royal ball is about?" He asked, cocking his head to the side playfully.
"No." Ave answered simply.
"It's an auction."
"What." Ave's face turned to stone, still walking along at his side.
"W-what auction?" She regretted asking more, even if her brain really didn't want to know.
"You know- trading stuff and people responsible who gets the money." He added.
"What stuff." She elaborated. Begging her mouth to shut the hell up before she escapes on her heels running back towards the back of the gate.
To which is a far away back.
As Averithe's head turned around, facing at how far back it was-how the distance was. And how far away they were, while still walking away, coming closer and closer towards the entrance of a gate-a two way door of a royal party.
Ball. She continuously added.
"Oh." He poked her cheek and brought her gaze forward again. "Don't look away from your front, dear, you know it is a bad omen to do.
Ave sighed. Worried about her future in the enclosed ballroom. Surrounded by royals, maybe doomed with her anonymosity and the checker pawns playing at their hands.
"To your question." He added.
"Sometimes it would be prostitues, women who offered themselves, ancient women or fantasised women." He smiled at the end, a small grin on his face, a duplicate of the cheeky, thus innocent looke of him.
Kind of like a signature. She thought.
If for not his handsomeness she would've punched him and kicked him in the jewels, maybe punch his snobby cheek bones and nose to her desirable state.
"Oh, I'll take care of you." He poked her cheek. A hand still across her shoulder, getting warmer as he didn't once remove it, and now being a sack burden of potatoes on her shoulder.
"Don't worry." He added to his already terrible words of sentences, -which Ave didn't respond to- nor question as it would make her feel more horrible, miserable and gruesomely too horrifying to think about.
And then there was this castle. In front of her. Tall, large, medieval and sneering at her mere existence. Maybe not welcoming to a commoner like her, but then again, she didn't pay attention to the royals she attended to at the royal ball party last week.
Her stomach was too busy demanding and she was too busy drinking and swallowing cakes. As her royal buffet weekly described. The next day her loo would look like pink-peached coloring and flowery smell.
Her eyes kept taking in the shape and details of the building until it dawned on her that this was not the same castle.
Now she's not so sure anymore.
It is now replaced with taller, sharper arches of towers. Castle with building of cement and sturdier, a whole lot looking-like medieval times.
She wondered where the previous building went. Was it swallowed by earth, or did it magic-
"Honey." He suddenly linked his left arm with hers, still walking, he slowed down to a slower pace.
"Let's play a husband and a newlywed wife today. We have a role to play." He ended with a rather daring statement.
She didn't know how to react.
Him being charming or him being dominantly royally conduct of speech that would cause her her doom, not his royally bloody self. Her mind rambled.
She didn't reply, to which they are now walking as slowly as possible, to which received states, from the surrounding royal guests. It was a gift that Averithe was wearing the yellow-Belle dress she rented- to which she never give back. She awfully fitted perfectly as the hours went by, and it would be a shame to fit back into her casual cashmere and skirt outfit.
His eyes started to widen, the crow's eye on his eyes started to twitch, as well as
his smile started to twitch.
A royally conduct speech of a sentence.
A sentence that made her speechless to the core. Her freezing, daring nerve muscle of a commoner's mouth, who she silently cursed at at its uselessness to speak and speak her truce, nor the willingness to follow his intentions.
"Yes. I'll be the wife." She finally replied. Still walking slowly as they nearly reached the foot of stairs sawn by the corner of her left eye.
He smiled down at her, smiling innocently, a signal of how this would go wrong if she didn't follow.
He slightly smiled back, did not look like a cheeky little bastard who wants to get punched in the face.
Instead, he looked like a gentleman of a royale born who's looking to accomodate to his best friend of a date night. If that sounded right.
She prickly blamed the commoner's blood of nerve she was born with, if she were a royal, she would already step him on the foot.
Then again, to the situation she's currently in, she had no choice but to smile, a soft smile to which she would never return again, against the slightly intimidating smirk of a grin he's using right now of a moment.
With her eyes widening inside her mind to tranquill her already override embarassment and surging of tsunami emotions.
"Now, let's walk to the gala, shall we. "
His voice cut out by chatters around. At least the noise would calm her, as her current situation procedes, at her second time of the night of her royal ball. Of a party.
With auctions. Her mind added to which her eyes went slightlt awide, deliberstely wanting to jag his red ribbon of a tuxedo he was wearing.
Her thoughts wandered for a second when it finally reached to the man who invited her in the first place, adding another nerve to the piling red surge of horrible feelings she's having at the moment. Wondering where he was at or whether he was just a con-man or a fraud or a trickster for scheduling a date but never arriving for it.
It was a few steps before they reached the steps of stairs that linked the front landscape to the ball party.
With him linking a bit tighter to her arm, they walked up and stopped in front of a waiter- a butler standing in front of the door.
"To whom am I speaking to?"
The man fished out of his pocket a card, of vintage brown and probably an initial of him written on it, along with a small smile, to which the butler looked down for a second before it widened for a split second, before stepping away a little, courtsied with a hand gesture of an open palm.
"What-"
"Let's go." The man tightened his grasp again, pulling her along, walking as he pushed the left door open, revealing a golden light seeping through. A chandelier not long after.
Ave wondered why her eyes shot up, wondered why her face felt beet red hot. And she wondered if this was the worst mistake of her life.
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