Written for Ritnya for the 2016 Tales of Santa Exchange

The President's Annual Garden Ball was just one of the many parties Hubert had invited Pascal to over the years. In the past, she'd always found a reason not to be there. But this time, just a few months after they had announced their engagement, she agreed to go. He was ecstatic to finally be able to introduce her as his fiancé to Strahtan society and she seemed equally as excited to visit the Presidential Palace. She went so far as to buy a ball gown and high-heeled shoes and even combed her hair for the occasion.

Hubert had smiled upon seeing her dressed so formally, but when they arrived at the party and she tried to climb the stairs down into the garden in the shoes, he felt terrible. She struggled to keep her balance and clung to his arm awkwardly as they greeted the President, the heels sinking into the grass and causing her to nearly march to their assigned table. She eventually kicked them off during the meal and though she never complained, he could tell this was agony for her, and resolved to find an excuse to leave early.

Blending in with the aristocrats of Strahta was not something Pascal aspired to do nor did it suit her at all.
And truthfully, he was glad for that.
Still, for what it was worth, she was trying her best.

Following a lavish dinner, the dancing began. She gave it her best effort but the music and steps were foreign and she stepped on his toes and tripped over herself a few times. Barefooted. She laughed about it, and so did he. After two agonizing songs, she touched a tender finger to his nose and then led him back to their seats.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

With the brightest of smiles, she answered, "Right as rain, Hu! The food here is super good! They even have this amazing banana bread!"

"Yes, it is quite good, and I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"Hey, I gotta ask you something, though."

"Of course."

She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Do you really like these parties? I mean, because you go to them all the time and stuff. I'm asking because y'know, its hard to talk to people and do party stuff."

"Party stuff?"

"Y'know, play games, have a drink, talk about life instead of the weather, those things. Things that don't feel like we're doing them because we have to do them but because we want to do them?"

He considered a moment before giving the truthful answer. "Truly, I do not. But it is required of me."

"Because of your rank?"

"Yes, and my family's political standing in this country."

She rubbed a finger around the rim of her wine glass, letting it sing. "Do we have to come to a lot of these, then? Y'know, after we get married?"

"I'm not going to make you attend if you choose not to," he said before taking a sip of the wine he was drinking. "It isn't your obligation."

"I'll come," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Someone's gotta keep you from being bored. But I gotta get better shoes."

He gave a chuckle. "I think we can manage that."

"I'm gonna go get some more of that banana bread, okay?"

"I can get it for you, if you'd like."

"Nah, I'm good," she said as she stood up. "Be back in a bit."

He watched as she flitted towards the dessert table at the other end of the garden. Rising, he decided to get himself another drink. As he made his way to bar, he kept an ear on the background chatter. Over the years, he'd become accustomed to listening to it at social functions. The things people would discuss with their acquaintances while just one glass of wine shy from being considered inebriated always garnered him useful information. Whether that was insight into business deals of which to take advantage, potential political threats, or even schemes that may jeopardize military operations, he considered this one of the important lessons Garrett Oswell had taught him.

Content to now have another glass of wine in hand, he walked towards the direction that Pascal had taken moments earlier. Still absently listening to mundane discussions going on around him, one particular set of them caused him to grit his teeth and curse to himself.

The voices of a group of debutantes carried easily over the din of the President's nighttime garden party, and each shrill, cruel word caused his heart to sink. He wouldn't have minded if they had been insulting him, but the disdain was clearly directed at Pascal. Watching as they glanced at her in the distance as she unknowingly gazed up at the massive fountain, he grit his teeth as the daggers of each hateful syllable cut through his skin.

"Look at that dress! Where did she find that travesty?"
"A trashcan, probably. Or by the side of the road!"
"She doesn't look like she's ever worn a dress."
"Or shoes. Is she even wearing shoes?"
"She walks like a man!"
"Perhaps that's what he likes—a man!"
"Well, I would think even a filthy witch would think to comb her hair for the President's party! It is such an insult that she is here in the first place!"
"It's not hair. It's a rat she wears on her head. Actually, it's two rats—one white, one red. They fight each other for sport!"
"Money can buy anything, but not taste. I mean, he could have any woman he wants and he goes for…that?"
"Maybe he likes his women wild. Maybe he likes to tame them like he trains his soldiers!"

He glared at the group but they did not stop the barrage of insults. Deciding he'd had enough of this charade of high society, he started walking towards Pascal to tell her it was time to head home. Unfortunately, the gaggle of gossips followed behind, much to his annoyance.

And then, things went from bad to worse.

Pascal had, for whatever reason, decided to climb into the President's fountain, gown and all. Standing there, bending over, she was examining something while the water slipped over her and soaked her from head to toe.

Shrieks of laughter and derision from the group of women that Hubert was desperately trying to get away from drew the rest of the party to stop and look. And they did! A collective breath was held and all eyes were on her, but she didn't notice. Whatever was in the water had her full and undivided attention.

Sliding his glasses up his nose, Hubert bravely walked up to her, ignoring the rest of the party. Excitedly, she looked up at him, giving a wave before noticing she was suddenly the center of attention.

"Um, Hu? What's their problem?" She asked, shaking the water from her hair.

He sighed, unsure of how he should explain this, thinking he probably shouldn't have to explain it. "You're in the fountain."

"Well, yeah, I mean, this thing was going all super wonky," she said, pulling up the skirt of her dress to ring it out. "So, I gave it a few kachunk-kachunkas and it's all good now!"

The entire party continued to stare, and Hubert knew that if he didn't do something, Strahtan society would never forget this odd faux pas. And, while he didn't care what these people thought of him, he certainly didn't want them gossiping about Pascal. Taking off his shoes and his jacket, he grinned at her. "So it's ready for soaking, then?"

The annoying women from before gasped in chorus and a murmur rustled through the crowd.

Turning to face the other guests he addressed them most formally. "Soaking parties are quite popular in Windor you know. King Richard himself had one just last week. I'm surprised the practice hadn't reached our fair country yet, as we certainly have the weather for it."

Confused glances shot across the garden. Finally, one of the catty women asked, "A soaking party? What does this involve?"

Hubert climbed into the fountain, clothes and all, carefully balancing his glass in his hand. "It's simple, really. One just sits in a fountain and soaks with friends. Clothing is worn, of course, and drinks are shared. It is quite relaxing. Fendel has started it as well, though they heat the water."

President Paradine laughed. "A splendid way to celebrate! May I join you?"

"It would be our honor, sir."

As the President removed his shoes, a few of the braver party guests stepped forward and began doing the same. "Bring the drinks over," the President called to the servants.

"Hu," Pascal whispered. Her eyes were wide with confusion as she sat next to him in the water. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later," he answered, giving her a kiss on the forehead and putting his arm around her shoulders. With a smirk he was pleased to see her detractors from before staring at the group seated in the fountain with abject horror. "But you just started a fad."