Red roses. White tulips. Yellow sunflowers. Pink roses. Yellow tulips.
It was a Royal Ball.
And it was a Royal Ball where everything had to be perfect. From the food to the drink. The decorations to the costumes.
Everything, meant everything. And nothing would go unnoticed by Jane Franklin..
Except the fact that soon-to-be King Troy Bolton, was not paying quite as much attention to her as he should be. They were set to be married by the end of next month and Jane couldn't be any more happy. The fact that she would be crowned Queen to everyone's favourite new King was the highlight of her days. But May 26st couldn't come any slower, and she felt much chagrin. The only thing fault was that Troy hadn't chosen to marry her, nor did he have a say in the matter.
"Maiden Gabriella, bring me my gown. The guests will be arriving shortly and I will need help getting ready. Come now."
The petite brunette turned around and nodded. She was under Bolton's control and demand, not this newcomer's. She was employed to assist him, not his future bethroved. Gabriella Montez, young woman at only twenty years of age, had been employed by Bolton when her family had suffered a disastress accident and she had been left alone, by herself.
Jane glared at the younger woman and stormed off in direction of her bedroom. Gabriella sighed before picking up the light teal colored dress that was hanging over the wooden wardrobe. She followed Jane into her bedroom, closing the door behind herself. She placed the dress down gently on the bed and proceded to unzip Jane's corset and remove it from her fragile looking body. Jane could be classed as too thin for someone of her age and height, but she only claimed that it made her look more beautiful. Picking up the gown from the bed, Gabriella held it out as Jane stepped into it, zipping it up at the back.
Placing her heels on her feet, strapping them on tight, Jane turned to her dresser. Seating herself down as she waited for Gabriella to attend to her hair and make-up. Freeing her blonde dry hair from the towel, Gabriella brushed her hair before taking her time to create a tight bun on the back of her head.
A rather loud knock on the door made Gabriella put down the hairbrush and open it politely.
"Maiden Gabriella, Troy would like your assistance." Henry Davids, the King's personal guard beckoned for her.
"No, no, no. She is helping me." Jane objected, rising from her stool.
Henry shook his head, "Troy has already settled it. Gabriella will help him and Maiden Taylor here, will be brought to help you get ready." Jane sighed, agreevated. She didn't like Taylor, but nor did she like Gabriella. "Maiden, you may," he ushered towards the doorway and Gabriella nodded, following him outside the room.
Taylor curtsied for Henry and he nodded, bringing Gabriella along behind him. She knocked on Jane's bedroom door and the blonde woman rolled her eyes, "If you think that for one second this makes us fairly acquaintances, you are wrongly confused."
She nodded, closing the door and picking up the previously forgotten hair brush.
After descending the numerous steps and climbing up another set, Henry and Gabriella arrived infront of a large wooden door, the man knocked, Gabriella stood beside him silently.
They heard a soft 'enter' and Henry turned the golden doorknob, opening the door. He didn't step in but left it open and ushered for Gabriella to enter. She smiled and entered, Henry closed the door behind her.
She didn't know where he was. He wasn't in on his bed, but rather sat infront of his dresser, a frown on his face as it was placed between both of his hands. "Troy..." She could call him as she pleased, he was caring towards her.
"Shh, for a second... please." He asks of her and she can't help but oblige, she must do anything he asks.
She walks further into the room, readjusting the small white bonnet on her head.
He sighs a deep breath and she's unsure what to do.
"I need your advisement on a matter." He starts, standing from his seat and walking over to the bed. He sits on the edge and stares over at her. She almost blushes at the way his pants are slightly loose and his shirt open over his chest. "Explain to me... how my father expects me to marry someone that I do not love." He requests firmly, placing his hands at his sides on the soft mattress.
She gaps for a moment, her fingers twitching together. She's nervous, but she doesn't know why. And she's confused. She's a hired maid and servant, a slave almost, and he asking her for psychological help? What good or use could she be?
"I- I don't know, your royalty." She stutters out, casting her attention to the carpeted floor, admiring the decoration. "I believe your father only has the best of intentions at heart and wishes to find you a suitable queen." It's a fine explanation, but she won't get away with it. She knows it and, more importantly, he knows it.
She's been attached, attracted, allured by him for some time now and she's not sure how to handle her new feelings, her new desire for the man she can never have.
Troy continues to watch her, a small smile appearing on his face as she shifts on her feet nervously. She turns and faces a full length mirror. She takes a deep intake of air when he slowly walks up behind her, his breath tickling the back of her neck.
"Why are you so afraid of me?"
She looked down again, her eyes cathing him from the bottom left corner, "I'm not."
"Why don't I believe you?"
He apprehensively rests a hand on the low of her back, sending a cool shiver down her spine. He moves it lower and around her waist, before drawing her closer to him, and her face heats up again at the contact. She's not sure what's happening, but no one has ever touched her like this before.
She feels the small headdress removed from atop of her hair and elicits a soft noise when his hands travels across the base of her neck to scoop her hair to one side.
It was wrong for him to be doing this. She wasn't his in a romantic way, but in every other. But he owned her. She was his.
"I am not, though. I assure you." Her voice is almost mute and he likes the way she sounds when she's tense.
He moved his hand through her dark curls again gently before trailing it down the middle of her breasts, grazing her smooth skin. She shivered at the feeling, "close your eyes."
Gabriella's not positive she wants to. She likes admiring him as he watches her.
"Why must I-"
He cuts her off, both hands gripping her hips and holding her tightly in place so she doesn't move.
"Close your eyes." He repeats and she obeys.