Alrighty, I've been debating whether or not to post a story on Fanfiction for a while...or at least one written like this one. This story is written as a Reader-Insert and is geared towards female readers, but It doesn't REALLY matter, I don't think it'll turn into a 'romance' but I really don't know, I learn more about this story every day so...yeah. Tell me what you think!

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Feet flying like feathers across the wind, hair, flowing like a stream of water, body molding to the form in your mind like clay under the potters hand. You were a dancer; it was your life, your dream, your act of survival. Your face remained a mask, formed in the expression of a dazzling smile, never betraying the utter nothingness you felt tonight.

A leg lifted up to touch your head while the other leapt up into the air. A hand reached up, another grabbed your foot. When you set down again you were spinning, whirling around on pointed toe beneath you. It was normally exhilarating, to dance before the king in his court. But tonight, you were just there to show off for his son's friends.

When you felt your momentum slowing down the leg that was lifted up into the air set gracefully on the ground behind the other one. As soon as your bare toes scrapped against the dusty floor you began to bend your back, pausing for a minute when it was parallel to the ground.

Then, moving at blinding speed, you leaned backwards pressing your elbows to the ground. Sweat dripped down your back, telling you that this performance was nearing its climax. Shifting your weight from the feet firmly planted to the sliding elbows you shot up into a perfect handstand. Pushing yourself up onto your hands from your elbows was probably the most difficult maneuver you had attempted tonight. From the claps and whistling around you it must have been done in the best way possible. Good, so you weren't too exhausted this time.

Shifting your weight again you plummeted onto your knees, pausing for the barest moment before putting all of your remaining strength into preforming a short backflip. You felt your long hair swish past your face, scrape the floor, then fly through the air as you finished your revolving flip. Claps, loud shouts, applause, all sorts of compliments rained down on your performance. You gathered yourself in a split second, bowed, smiled, and walked out of the area provided for your various performances.

Your feet didn't quite ache yet, but you could still feel every muscle in the sole of your bare foot, not to mention your arms. It was possible you had pulled some sort of ligament in that last maneuver. But it couldn't stop you; you had to this all over again in two hours.

You walked with carefully planted steps down the dirt halls. This was all underground. And for good reason, if the king saw what his son had going on down here then his claim on the crown would be revoked for sure. That was…unless you had danced for him already. It was impossible to know with all of the spectators that snuck into this Black Market type lair. The prince had always loved all things exotic. From foods to slaves. He had it all. You weren't one of his slaves, more like his…helper, you guessed. The prince had always been hard to read.

You arrived in your designated room. It wasn't near as grand as the one the prince often stayed in, but it definitely wasn't the same room slaves would be housed in. A simple bed with silky smooth deep red sheets was nestled in one corner while on the opposite side were two doors, one that lead up to your room in the castle, and the other was your dance studio. You crossed the cold stone floor, carefully rubbing your dirty feet on the rug in front of the door, placed there just for this purpose, before walking inside.

A smile graced your make-up laden face, he had always insisted that you had to look your best, even if you didn't feel like it. You had come here when you were little, just to look around but staying here was a decision that you never regretted making. Never.

Your dancing career had started early. You had been born into a group of traveling merchants, gamblers, shop-keepers, basically a bit of everyone, even a tavern-keeper who's place of business had gone under when taxes just kept rising. You were the person who had no specific skill, or at least none to compare with the people surrounding you. That was until your dad had taken you and your sister to a ballet. She just sat there and drew the people, but you on the other hand, you were mesmerized, completely falling in love with the graceful motions of the dancers.

You smiled at the fond memory. Your first dance had been a wreck, like a horse and cart without a driver. But now…you could arguably be the best one in the whole country. Or at least in the top few.

Your dancing room was large, with a round ceiling, making it remind you of the inside of a theater. It had various bars at assorted heights to help you stretch, blocks on the floor that ranged from your ankles to your waist, ropes hanging from the pinnacle of the room, and a vast assortment of colored outfits to emphasize themes. Today your theme was Greece, particularly a live Greek statue. That implied a unearthly pale, perfectly smooth complexion, extremely graceful movements, and a flowing piece of fabric wound loosely across your torso and right leg.

You sighed. It was almost unbelievable, that a slave could have been forced to do this with even less covering…You scanned your wardrobe.

It was filled, from top to bottom with two types of outfits: your dancing ones, and the formal dresses you were supposed to wear in between dancing sessions. You looked for the right color, the Prince had said a deep blue one with a shorter skirt would be the criteria for this party. A few instantly popped out at you. A simple dress with a white apron that had a flowing skirt, stopping just above the knees. But you dismissed it for two reasons. One, while he hadn't specified formal attire it was always implied, and two, it was just too light in color.

Another one, a deep royal blue dress, just below the knees with a huge puffed skirt, obviously silk material, and a pair of puffed sleeves. You pulled it out to set it on another rack, one for those who fit the bill, but needed another look.

A third practically screamed at you. It was longer than the others, but had a slit going far up on both legs, stopping at the mid-thigh. This one was a bit of a stretch on the directives given, as it was two-toned, both purple and blue. With a deep plunge and a black ribbon at your waist, it was one of your most form…revealing fancier occasion dresses, you put it next to the other one.

The final dress was black. Or at least the base was. On the base spirals and crowns lined the edges of this ensemble, but the base was higher up on your leg than any of the others, coming a full four inches above the knee. It had two layers, one was deep blue, so dark it could be mistaken for black. It would hug your thighs and (hopefully) prevent anyone from getting an look up your skirt, while the other was looser. Looser and almost mesh-like it had the designs on it, all of them spiraling up closer to your waist, where a blue corset awaited them to bind the dress together. A long sleeved sheer covered your arms in delicate butterflies. You set this up by the others.

And now. For the choices. You had…about thirteen more minutes before your best palace friend, Vanille would come into your room, shouting with that huge grin on her face, complaining all the while about absolutely nothing. You either had to be there when that happened, or cleverly devise a way to circumnavigate the maid when she went looking for you. As she most certainly would…well, thirteen, no, twelve minutes wasn't enough time for that.

After that? Well then the dance of not disappointing the prince would begin.