Adagietto: Bolero

The day had arrived faster than I thought. Although Mother had this night planned for ages, probably since my birth, I was secretly hoping it would never come.

Prospects Night.

Which, this year, also lands on the 24th night of the 12th month. I've read about people who used to live before the kingdoms. They called this night Christmas Eve. Apparently Christmas was an occasion where people would bring their loved ones gifts.

Why they assigned a specific day out of the year was never recorded clearly.

Prospect's Night is the most regal night in the land because tonight would determine who I spend the rest of my life with. Would I find instant love or would I be forced to marry someone who only proposed for status and money.

It seems quite stupid, really, if you think about it, needing to marry for power. My great-grandmother, Owareina Grim, ruled by herself just fine. Not only did she survive amongst the entirety of her kingdom pushing her to have another ruling body by her side, but she commanded the attention of not only our kingdom, the grand region of Hemiela, and also many of the neighboring kingdoms. 

Many times I wonder if I could be the same, if I could do without a man by my side, or anyone for that matter. I could inherit this castle as my birthright and live in my own comfortable solitude forever.

No, I have to marry. If I want to keep Hemiela I have to marry. Otherwise it would go to Griselda, the second oldest sibling, only two years inferior to myself.

My eyes lift to the family portrait above my bed. I find Griselda's face among all of us, her white hair a stark contrast to the rest of the family's black hair, with the exception of the redheaded twins of course.

Finally, next to the portrait my eyes find my dress. My beautiful, custom-made, prepared for months dress. The bustier being a sage-colored mesh, adorned with lace flowers over the cup area, attached to the satin skirt with a long slit down the left leg, just high enough to show my family's tattoo that gave us so much authority over the people.

Hanging with the dress is my eye mask, a sage color to match my dress, large enough to cover the entirety of my face except blow my lips. I suppose wearing the makeup is a fool's idea, but something about the way I look before I put on the mask is comforting enough for me to continue doing it. I get a glimpse of what normal would look like before having to step into my overbearing life as the kingdom's princess.

The dress is easy to slip on and Mother has people come in to make sure the dress fits in all the right places. My waist is cinched, my chest is accentuated, and my exposed leg is glued with some sort of skin-safe solvent to make sure my tattoo is visible at all times while still remaining decent. After that entire process is done, they drape my exposed leg and both my arms in a dainty gemstone chain, one that hangs loosely and makes the overall appearance seem elegant and effortless. Lastly, they fix the mask on my face and secure it with strings behind the curls on top of my head.

I cast my eyes downward and see the tattoo, a skull with a knife penetrating the top of it's head, a good fit to describe the Grim family. Ever since Owareina killed her opponent for the throne, the Grim family was always associated with death and violence. Instead of letting that get to Owareina, she decided to make it the symbol of her family. 

The other tradition Owareina started was the idea of not letting your face be seen in public. She fought her opponent and took power all while wearing an eye mask that covered the top half of her face, so that she could not be identified. 

A powerful woman.

And I could only hope to have half of her bravery.

Mother walks me down a long corridor and leads me to an all-too-familiar door with wooden engravings taking the same form as the flowers on my dress.

Mother knocks.

The doors open.

I would be knocked over from the wave of nausea that just hit me if I weren't already so terrified of making a fool of myself. My shoes are sage, no surprise, and they click they make as I walk to the top of the stairwell is enough to drive any person mad.

The room goes silent as they recognize who I am.

"May I introduce, Lady Gariela Grim, of the Grim Family Household of Regal Behavior," the doorman announces with his projecting voice.

Gariela Grim. 

The girl who didn't seem to have any personality other than being the heir to the throne.

At this moment I am glad no one could see my eyes, or they might find me appalling when they see there is no light shining in my pupils, signifying that I am overflowing with joy as I should be.

I pick up the side of my dress carefully, to not rip it out of place and walk down the grand staircase as I have practiced many times before. I look straight in front of my out of habit. Though no one could see where my eyes actually were as I was descending the stairs, Mother had drilled me until my toes were bleeding on how to correctly walk down a staircase in heels.

I look up because I fear she would know if I looked down.

At the bottom of the staircase I am met by my father, Gabrideon. The patriarch of the Grim family household. 

There are other introductions being made I'm sure, though I can't seem to hear a thing. My ears are ringing vigorously and my vision spots as I look around at all the people looking right back at me.

What I would give to look down at my dress to make sure I look alright.

My father notices my paranoia and hands me a drink to calm my nerves. "You look amazing, darling, all of these people just want to be you," he reassures me.

I am careful to not drink the liquor fast, seeming as that would be inappropriate, and I look around again at all of the faces. I notice both members of the second-tier royal families of Hemiela as well as the ruling families of the other kingdoms. There are few second-tier royal families from other kingdoms here, and only because they received special invitations from the ruling family of their kingdom. More than enough boys my age to keep me talking all night, leaving no room for doubt of a proposal.

But from whom.

"Lady Gariela, a pleasure," a young man comes up to me and waits for my hand. The first thing I notice are his eyes. They are a piercing shade of grey, a color that would match the sheets on my bed if I held the two close together. His face is framed with long dark, curly hair that cuts off below his ear. His dark skin pulled his face together to form one of the most beautiful men that I have ever seen.

"Elig Osbourne," he introduces himself. Osbourne. One of the royal families in Hemiela. His parents Marith and Dane have been over to the castle many times to discuss politics with my father. I hate it when the royal families come over because it means I have to cover my face. I already have a reason to not like him. But I grit my teeth and dance with him anyways. No doubt he would ask for my hand, however, if I refuse him so obviously, Mother would have my head.

My first dance is a Vietnamese Waltz to the tune of Symphony No. 5 in C Sharp Minor: 1. Trauermarsch by Gustav Mahler. We start the dance. Which also starts the small questioning.

"How are you this fine evening, Lady Gariela?"

"Wonderful. I hope you feel the same."

"Yes, I do. Thank you for welcoming me to your extravagant home."

Kiss up.

"Of course, seeing as though you are the one doing my family and the entirety of Hemiela a service, I thank you graciously for playing your part."

I've rehearsed this thousands of times.

"Oh, I would do anything for Hemiela, and to do so with such a an imposing woman by my side,"

Wrong. You would be ruling by my side.

"I-it would do me the greatest honor, Lady Gariela, if you would accept my proposal of marriage given to you right now."

And now I'm bored.

"Lord Osbourne, I plead for you to understand as to why I cannot accept your proposal of marriage at this time, as you are only your first dance of the night."

Needless to say this was not the answer he wanted.

He storms away like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

What a little boy.

Now the next dances I am called for are the tune of Symphony No. 5 in C Sharp Minor: 2. Stürmisch by Gustav Mahler, and the dance is the LiberTango. His name is Afervon Loaud, part of a royal family from the neighboring kingdom of Alodar. His pleasantries were as same as the last time, making small talk until the inevitable proposal of marriage. To which I respond the same line I gave to Elig. To my surprise, Afervon did not take this news as harshly as the other, he accepted with grace and kissed my hand as a way of telling me that he was always an option.

Maybe he will be the best one.

The third dance is the Regency Dance, halfway through the night is as best as any time to get bold with our dancing, in Mother's opinion. To the tune of Symphony No. 5 in C Sharp Minor: 3. Scherzo by Gustav Mahler, with a boy named Evon Miechler, one of the royal families in Hemiela. He was rather impatient with his proposal, as if it had somewhere else to be. I declined him, not on the account that I had previously used, but the account that he was rather unappealing to me anyway, and that if he did not like the ball then he should not waste his time attending it. I ended the dance early and went to go sit by my father.

Only to find my father dancing the Regency with Mother, their body language communicating true love even though you could not see the way their eyes shone as they looked at each other.

Oh, to have that.

"Lady Gariela," a voice came from in front of me. I turn my head to be met with stunning green eyes and defined cheekbones on a very pale face, crowned with golden hair that contrasted his black suit.

I know this face.

It is the face of Skelder Standsri. The only son of the ruling family in the cruel kingdom of Sersian.

The smirk gracing his face was one of mischief, though I must admit his beauty was striking. I recall the accusation being that Elig was the prettiest man I had ever seen, because Skelder took the prize by a landslide. He had hollowed cheeks, resembling both of his parents, his lips were full and tinted pink. Though I cannot stop myself from coming back to his eyes, that shine in a way that I never thought anyone from Sersian could have. 

"Care to dance," the words roll off his tongue like butter, inviting me to get up despite the ache in my feet from the heels. 

He leans close to my ear, "You may take the shoes off, I will not tell." He pulls away with the devious grin still pasted on his face. I give him a challenging look and he surprises me by giving me one back. I take off my heels and place them under the table, letting the hem of my dress cover my feet. 

As though he had planned his timing, the next dance proceeds to play the moment I step to the floor with him. And this one is my favorite. The same piece but in every way different from the rest, Symphony No. 5 in C Sharp Minor: 4. Adagietto by Gustav Mahler, and the dance is the Bolero, the most sensual. 

Perfect. 

He swifts through the first part of the dance with no conversation, which was very unusual. His arm was wrapped around my waist with my back to his chest and his mouth near my ear, so close to saying something and then deciding not to. Then the second part of the dance starts and he spins me so abruptly I end with a shake in front of him. His mouth is no longer near my ear, and now near my mouth. 

"Are you not going to at least try to maintain a conversation with me, Lord Skelder," I challenge him. 

"Why would I attempt to converse if we have nothing to talk about?"

"So you didn't ask me to dance to inquire about a proposal," I feel a twinge of disappointment that I shove down. 

"What would make you think I want to inquire about a proposal?"

"The other men that have made it so obvious that they want to at least try, I daresay you are holding up the line."

"Good, maybe it will give you some time to realize that you are too good for anyone here tonight, and maybe it should allow you the time to think about what you really want from this party."

It's like he could read my mind. 

"Too good even for you, Lord Skelder?"

"Never too good for me," his smirk grows wide enough to see the dimple in his cheek. 

I want to talk more but it seems the music has ended and the next dance is starting. He nods to me and I to him and he walks away without another word. 

Shame he didn't propose, I think I would've said yes. 

The next two dances ended the same way Elig, Afervon, and Evon's did. The boys dancing proposed and I declined both. I thought it would be inappropriate for me to accept a proposal for either boy when I could not remember their names. My mind was full of the blonde-haired marvel that addressed me in a way that I had never been addressed before by someone out of my family. I danced the seventh and eighth with Afervon, eventually accepting his proposal of marriage and the telling of our families of the upcoming union of Hemiela and Alodar, which pleased everyone. 

And the night ended like that, me with a promise of a ring on my finger in the morning, and the overpowering thoughts about the only boy who never asked. 

I think about him and his words, that no one but him was good enough, and yet he still did not ask me. 

I brush it aside because when I regain my head and think about the situation at whole I come to understand why he would never ask. 

He is the only son of Sersian. He has to keep the throne, no matter who he marries. 

I have eleven younger siblings. Eleven plans to take the throne if I do not. 

I would lose Hemiela if I accepted. 

He didn't ask because he knew I would lose Hemiela. 

Somehow he knows what Hemiela means to me. 

He did it for me.

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