Regina knew that for most young girls it was the most exciting event of their lives so far – but personally she just found it to be on the creepy side of normal.
It wasn’t that she’d always hated dressing up. When she was younger the brunette had taken great joy in twirling around in layers of gauze and chiffon, hair twirled elegantly up on her head. But after a while she’d realised that the dresses her mother had the seamstress make for her, the lavish jewellery she was gifted with at each and every special occasion – none of it was really for her.
It was all given with the intent of prettying her up for the prying eyes of perverted old men. Every time she was made up for an event it wasn’t so she could feel special or beautiful for herself – it was her mother whoring her out for her own gains.
And this, this goddamned ball – this might just be the night her mother made the ultimate power play. After all, well over half the noble girls in the kingdom got engaged the night of their coming out ball.
Honestly, she was a little scared about what the night might hold in store for her – what her mother might intend the night to hold in store for her.
*
Regina took a deep breath as she made her way down the elaborate staircase. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, roaming over her as if she were a piece of artwork for their enjoyment.
She knew how to ignore it though, the feeling of being on display. The only good thing about how often she was forced into these situations was that she’d quickly learnt to just pretend she wasn’t being ogled by men old enough to be her father and then some.
She still hated it though. And she’d never been the sole focus of a room before. It certainly wasn’t something she ever wanted to repeat.
She could see her mother watching her, dark eyes hard and glistening with danger. She lifted her chin, widening her fake smile so her cheeks dimpled.
Her skin was practically tingling with the sensation of eyes on her. All those people staring, unashamed. Finally though, she reached the bottom – her father taking her hand and leading her off into the crowd of pastel satins that had come before her.
*
She watched with a kind of bored fascination as the remaining girls descended after her. Some looked as terrified as she had felt – clearly unable to put on the façade that she did. Some looked disgustingly smug – as if the idea of showing themselves off to a room full of old creepers was actually appealing to them. As it went on Regina felt the boredom begin to overtake the fascination though. Her feet hurt and her dress was tight and constrictive. She’d so much rather be at home – dressed in something comfortable, giving Rocinante a good groom or taking him out for an evening ride.
The presentation had to be nearly done now, didn’t it? There must have been over fifty girls already.
The room fell into a hushed silence again as the announcer began to introduce the next victim of this antiquated ritual. For that’s what it was, really.
Regina tried not to roll her eyes, instead letting her eyes wonder to the lavish tables full of food. She was getting hungry, and she wanted nothing more than to slink off and disappear with a plateful.
“Finally,” the announcer drawled “our honored guest for this evening – Princess Emma of the White Kingdom.”
Regina’s head snapped up in interest. She knew of the Princess by reputation, of course, but her mother seemed to have some strange grudge against the White Kingdom and its rulers. So since she’d never seen any of them in the flesh, she couldn’t help but be curious.
“Please kneel for her Royal Highness Princess Emma,” the announcer commanded, as the doors at the top of the stairs opened once again.
Regina heard the rustle of fabric as everyone in the room bowed deeply around her – but she found she couldn’t quite make her body move.
The girl that was moving down the stairs was beautiful.
Her fair skin was complimented by the shining white fabric of her gown – making her look almost as if she were glowing as the silver embroidery sparkled in the low light. Her blonde hair was twisted up around a delicate coronet, woven silver flowers perched elegantly on her head.
She was almost certain the Princess was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Regina felt a tug on her arm and shook herself back to reality, bending quickly into a curtsy beside her mother.
Her eyes flickered back up to the vision in white, breath a little shallower as she watched the girl descend. The girl’s cheeks were dimpled with her wide smile, blushing prettily and chin tilted proudly upwards. There was a smug shine in her eyes and Regina felt herself deflate a little – beautiful or not – apparently the Princess was one of those girls.
She still couldn’t take her eyes off her though. The brunette watched, enchanted, as the Princess’ father took her hand and led her out into the room beyond. She rose slowly, eyes following the blonde head as it disappeared into the crowd – immediately surrounded by brocade-coated men of all ages.
There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned, coming face to face with a man who looked to be at least in his fifties.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, face full of self-assurance.
She looked at the hand he held extended to her to his face and back again.
“Answer the man, Regina,” her mother told her pointedly and Regina forced a smile which she was sure couldn’t look at all genuine.
“I’d be honoured.”
*
Regina was tired, and her feet hurt. Old men were not good dancers – they were also far too liberal with their hands. She felt like she wanted to peel her skin off, maybe burn it just for good measure. The one good thing about it was that she’d finally managed to slip her mother and escape to find something to eat.
The company might have lacked something to be desired, but at least the food was up to standard. Regina had never tasted anything as delicious – nor seen as wide a spread. She managed to snatch a plateful and escape to an ante room before her mother could reach her again. If she were paying enough attention she might be worried that her mother didn’t actually seem to be looking for her – worrying about what she might be doing instead. As it was, she was just enjoying the unexpected break.
She nestled into the window seat, forehead leaning against the window as she stared out at the stars. She could hear the music drifting in from the ballroom, the gentle hum of laughter and chatter mixing with the soft notes of the band. If every ball could involve her hiding behind velvet drapes and eating smoked salmon she might even learn to enjoy them.
A door slammed loudly and Regina jumped, fingers twining into the velvet and pulling it to the side so she could peer out.
Her mouth fell open.
Princess Emma was standing there – looking decidedly frazzled. The girl moved her hands to her waist, bending over and taking long slow breaths.
“Breathe,” the Princess whispered to herself, eyes falling closed “just breathe.”
Regina frowned, leaning a little further forward. As she moved, though, the cushion beneath her shifted and she felt herself tipping over the edge – and then suddenly she was as an unceremonious heap of blue satin on the floor.
“Ouch,” she groaned, sure she’d just acquired a good few bruises.
“Whoa, hey, are you alright?” the brunette’s eyes snapped up to meet concerned green ones, heart launching to her throat. She’d just made a complete idiot of herself in front of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen, great.
The Princess looked a little startled, but she straightened up and approached her cautiously, holding out a tentative hand.
Regina stared up at her, mouth hanging open, then shook herself quickly and reached out her own hand in response.
“Emma,” the blonde smiled at her shyly as Regina brushed herself down “I’m Emma.”
“I know who you are, Your Highness,” the brunette smiled in response “Princess Emma of the White Kingdom.”
She blushed, eyes darting down to the floor “Sorry I…I like to forget that everyone knows my name sometimes.”
Regina felt her smile widen slightly at the Princess’ reticence “Well, if it helps, I only know who you are because of the man in a bad wig who introduced you.”
Her eyes darted up to meet the brunette’s, grinning “I guess that puts me at an unfair advantage, then, since I wasn’t around when he introduced you.”
It was Regina’s turn to blush then, smiling nervously “I’m afraid I’m not nearly as famous as you, Princess.”
“Emma, please,” the blonde smiled “and that certainly doesn’t mean I care who you are any less. Now are you going to tell me your name?”
“Regina,” she supplied quickly “I’m, erm, one of King Xavier’s grandchildren.”
Emma’s eyes widened “So you’re a Princess too?”
She laughed nervously “Well no…not really. My father he…he’s fifth in line to the throne. I’m hardly anything really,” she shrugged.
The blonde shook her head “That’s not true – you wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t important.”
Regina rolled her eyes “Maybe that would be a good thing,” she mumbled.
The Princess peered around her to where she’d been curled up on the window seat, mouth pulling back into a smile “Were you hiding out in here?”
She bit her lip, looking guilty “Possibly.”
“Beat me to it then.”
Regina’s brown eyes widened, her own lips curling into a smile in response “Wait – you came in here to hide?”
The disappointment she’d felt at the Princess’ first appearance on the stairs disappeared completely. Perhaps she wasn’t the only person here who knew how to put on a façade.
“Guilty,” Emma shrugged “can you keep a secret?”
She nodded eagerly, inexplicably excited by the idea of the beautiful girl confiding in her – of all people.
“I hate balls,” she admitted shyly “I really do. All this getting dressed up and playing politics and being the pretty little spectacle for all those old creeps – I hate it.”
Regina laughed, incredulous.
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” she replied quickly “I feel the same.”
The blonde grinned again, face lighting up with the movement “You do?”
“I do. I’d rather be at home with Rocinante.”
Emma frowned “And Rocinante is your…?”
“Horse. He’s my horse,” the brunette supplied quickly “I love to ride.”
“Oh,” the Princess’ smile returned “you know you don’t really look like the outdoors type.”
“Pastel colored satin can do that for you,” she shot back quickly, eyebrow raising.
Emma grinned “Point taken,” she took a step backwards, holding her arms out and looking down at the layers of sparkling white chiffon she was wrapped in “I suppose I don’t exactly look like a soldier right now.”
Regina’s brow creased slightly “A soldier?”
The blonde blushed again, eyelashes fluttering bashfully “I like fighting – sword work’s my favourite but I’m also pretty good with throwing knives.”
Regina had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth from falling open again – suddenly feeling deeply guilty about her original assessment of the Princess. The girl was so much more than the pretty white dress.
“Truth is – I’m a lot more comfortable in armour than in a dress. A lot more comfortable.”
“I like the dress,” Regina blurted without thinking, cheeks coloring in embarrassment “I mean…I’m sure you look good in armour too I just…the dress is…it’s nice. It looks good on you.”
“Embarrassment looks good on you,” the Princess shot back with a smirk “you’re pretty when you blush.”
The brunette couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open that time.
“I’m sorry that was…too forward,” she moved to take another step backwards but Regina darted out a hand and caught her wrist
“No it’s…it’s fine.”
Emma’s gaze fell to the hand around her wrist and then flicked up again, green eyes sparkling “Well in that case…” she bit her lip nervously “may I have this dance?”
Regina’s breath hitched, not quite sure she’d heard the Princess properly. The blonde stepped back again, holding out a hand towards her – leaving no doubt as to her intentions.
“I…” Regina started but before she could finish the blonde was reaching down and grabbing her hand with a mischievous grin
“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling her into the center of the room “Don’t you like dancing?”
The music from the ballroom was still drifting in, and Emma started them moving, gently spinning to the rhythm.
“Not as much as riding,” the brunette replied “what do you prefer – waltzing or parrying?”
Emma laughed “Well one involves a sword and the other involves stupid shoes which hurt my feet so…take a guess.”
The blonde extended her arm, spinning Regina beneath it “Touché.”
“You hate the shoes too right?” Emma asked pulling her back in until they were entirely closer than appropriate. Regina had to try very hard to control her breathing “Well?” the Princess asked again, voice lower, quieter this time. Breath tickling the brunette’s face “Don’t you?”
Regina nodded, eyes glued to the other girl’s “Yes.”
“Good,” she grinned, taking a half-step backwards – and dropping one of Regina’s hands – before reaching down and very ungracefully pulling off her perfect white heels. With a flick of her wrist the shoes were across the room and then she looked back up at Regina, raising her eyebrows suggestively “Your turn.”
The brunette couldn’t help but smile in response, bending to pull off her own shoes. She felt Emma’s fingers tighten around her own, and then the other girl was pulling her towards the opposite side of the room to where the music was drifting in from.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Regina asked, trying not to trip over her dress as the Princess pulled her excitedly forwards.
“Exploring.”
The brunette shook her head in bewilderment at this girl who was not at all what she had first seemed, revelling in the feel of the soft, warm fingers surrounding hers.
*
“This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport – you’re having fun, admit it,” Emma smirked as she leaned further out over the stone balustrade.
Regina peered out gingerly, feeling a little nauseous at the large drop beneath them “Heights aren’t really my thing.”
The Princess turned back to look at her – face flushed from the cool wind, wisps of blonde hair blowing gently. Her green eyes were sparkling in the moonlight and Regina realised she’d been wrong when she thought the Princess was the most beautiful things she’d ever seen as she came down the stairs – it was now, moonlight surrounding her and making her glow like some kind of angel, cheeks pink and hair a little messy. Now she truly was the most beautiful thing the brunette had ever seen.
“You want to go back inside?” she asked gently, and Regina had to work had to get her mouth moving – instead of just staring slack-jawed.
“I…yes, please.”
Emma nodded and stepped back from the edge, reaching down to take the brunette’s hand again – as if it were the most natural, normal thing in the world – and leading her calmly back through the glass doors into the luxurious room behind them.
She pulled the doors shut and then turned to face Regina, so close their noses practically touched. The brunette felt her cheeks burn as blood rushed to them, glad that the moonlight was the only illumination in the room.
“I suppose we should probably…be getting back,” the Princess breathed “my parents are probably looking for me.”
“Mine too,” Regina admitted sadly “I expect they have plenty more old men ready for me to dance with,” she added bitterly.
Emma chuckled “You’re not the only one. But…if it makes it any better…I’d rather be dancing with you.”
She stared at her, not quite sure how to find words “Me too,” she breathed finally “but I suppose that’s not really how it works.”
The blonde’s face fell a little “I suppose not.”
Regina smiled sadly at her, and made to move away – but Emma’s fingers tightened around her own “Wait but…that doesn’t mean…will I see you again?”
“I suppose we might be at the same ball again?” the brunette shrugged.
The Princess nodded “Will you be at the May Day Ball?” she asked eagerly.
“Probably,” she replied, biting her lip shyly.
Emma’s face lit up in a breath-taking smile “Good…well then maybe I’ll see you there?”
She nodded eagerly “I hope so.”
“Until then though,” Emma stepped forwards, eliminating the gap between their bodies “let’s go dance and be pretty for the creeps,” she whispered, dropping a feather light kiss to the brunette’s cheek that made her stomach flip and her heart stutter “Come on – we should go.”
Regina nodded lamely, allowing herself to be led from the room and back down towards the ballroom and the line of old creeps her mother no doubt had waiting for her.
As they picked up their shoes from where they’d left them and slipped them back on, though, the blonde shot her one more beautiful smile – and the idea of seeing that smile every time her mother dragged her to an event suddenly made her feel like balls were about to rapidly become more her kind of thing.
