It was half-past eleven but the party showed no sign of waning. The sconces and chandeliers were still ablaze with light. The soft violin music from before was replaced by the harmony of the famous Britannian orchestra led by none other than Maestro Pierre Decourroux, a world-renowned conductor. The regal crowd still danced with the various music pieces, be it fast or slow. As it is with any other celebration, most of the men were with the spirits of wine. They can be seen reclining in their chairs, already half asleep. The children, on the other hand, were as lively as ever. They, too, showed no signs of stopping. Schneizel helped Sofia clamber out of the ruins of the Draco Pavilion, one of the many outbuildings around the Polaris Villa's huge garden. It was originally built sometime in the 18th century but was abandoned because the ruling king could not afford to pay for its builders. From then on, it was left unfinished.

"It must have been a lovely pavilion." Sofia mused as she gathered up her skirts. "Filled with lights and lovely decorations."

"Precisely." The prince replied, wiping away the dust from his shoulder. "I have asked my father for a certain of sum of money for the completion of the Draco Pavilion, but he dismisses me always with a shrug. He tells me that it is of no importance at all. Therefore, money should not be wasted. He is too consumed by his desire to conquer nations. He spends all his wealth building this and that for the military. His views are not mine at all."

"Do you argue with your father?"

"No. It is a sign of disrespect." Schneizel smiled. "Do you?"

"Well," She looked at the ground sheepishly. "No. I was never allowed to talk back to my father."

"He is a very strict father." He took her hand in his and led her away from the ruins. "Anyone could see that clearly. He is horribly impatient and rude. I wonder how you could put up with him... The count looks fearsome, but I could tell that he is a feeble-minded person."

Sofia stopped walking and looked at him, appalled. "How can you tell?"

"Well, most people with traits like his are feeble-minded. I have met so many of them, Lady Sofia. They are all horrible creatures but they are not as wise as you think they are. They think of themselves too much." He sighed and looked her in the eyes. "Doesn't that mean that they are foolish? They know nothing but themselves. Do not be scared of him. He is not as impenetrable as you think."

"I understand." She whispered and, after a few moments, suddenly looked up. "Oh! Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Sofia closed her eyes and smiled. Her loose hair swayed with the rhythm of the wind. "Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Serenade Melancolique! I have always loved this composition of his."

The music was soft and almost inaudible. It came from the direction of the Polaris Villa. Schneizel listened with rapt attention. "It is a beautiful piece, Lady Sofia."

"Yes, very beautiful..." She began to remove her necklace, bracelets, and rings. "Beautiful, indeed."

Schneizel watched her carefully. "What are you doing?"

"I find it hard to dance," She replied, looking up at him as she unlaced her shoes also. "In heels. It is a secret between me and my governess. And you should not tell anybody about it, too. I dance without shoes."

"I see..." The prince replied. He was captivated by the beautiful notes of the violin. It was both sad and romantic, at the same time - a feeling he could not fathom. It set his heart at ease. Beautiful. Haunting. Scintillating.

"The dancer," Sofia said softly as she took his hand and looked up at him. "Needs a partner."

Schneizel was surprised and winced. "Dance? I never--"

"Oh, please!" She took hold of both of his hands and smiled. "You must have taken dance lessons!"

He smiled awkwardly. "I am not good at dancing."

"All the more reason why you should dance with me. Come, I can teach you."

It was all against his will but Schneizel let her do as she bid. Sofia led him throughout the whole dance, telling him where to place his foot. She laughed softly whenever he fell into the wrong step. At first, he would look at her with a little disdain for she seemed proud of her dancing abilities, but, in the end, he learned to laugh with her. While they danced, he watched her fondly, with the eyes of a child. She seemed to be one with the wind, lithe and delicate in every stroke and sway. It was as if she was one with the music. She reminded him of a line from a poem by William Butler Yeats:

O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,

How can we know the dancer from the dance?

"That was lovely!" She exclaimed in delight when the song ended. "You were wonderful to dance with."

"You, too." He replied, breathless. "You were beautiful."

She smiled and curtsied. "You flatter me too much, prince."

"No, you were truly beautiful. Now, put on your shoes once more. I hear the sound of footsteps."

Cornelia li Britannia, second princess of the Britannian royal family, walked up to the couple, five minutes later. She found her brother helping a foreign girl into her shoes. She glared at her brother in surprise.

"What are you doing here, brother?" She asked in a sharp tone that implied authority. "Shouldn't you be inside the hall? And, who is she?"

Schneizel stood up. "Ah, this is Sofia Veronique da Campione. She comes from Italy. Her father is the Count Adriano da Campione, a friend of our father." He repeated what the count had said about her abilities. "She is a very lovely girl, don't you think? She is to be my wife."

Cornelia widened her eyes in disbelief. "You lie!" She shouted. "I cannot believe what you just said!"

He sighed and shrugged. "If you don't want to believe, then don't. May I ask why you're outside, sister? Are you looking for someone?"

"No!" She retorted, blushing a little. "I just came out for a breath of fresh air, that is all. I am now going back inside. You should, too."

"Why, of course," The prince replied, amused. "We will be inside in a moment."

Cornelia left, grumbling for no reason at all. Schneizel shook his head and took Sofia's hand.

"Come, let's go. Your father might be worried."

- - - - -

We went back to the Diamond Hall shortly afterward. There were still a lot of people inside but I could not see my father, tall as he was. Schneizel, seeing that I was worried, offered to help me look. Our search was in vain, however. We found no trace of the count at all. A servant informed us that my father had left earlier. I was disappointed and was ready to cry, but Schneizel held my hand and comforted me. He gave me a beautiful room to rest in and promised that everything would be alright in the morning...

I saw my beloved the next day and the days that followed. The horrible truth was now evident: my father had abandoned me. Perhaps, after seeing the approval on the emperor's eyes, he had come upon this cruel decision. I never saw my father personally in the years that followed, though I did hear a lot about him. They told me that my father now lives in Britannia and was given the highest status in the business world, the emperor's gift to him. He is well-received by his companions even if he comes from the Euro Universe. He has also taken a new wife: a young damsel by the name of Amelie Rochefort. Clearly, he has made up his mind to put his past behind and get rid of me, his only daughter.

These revelations might cause pain to other people. I have all the right in the world to call him names. Hypocrite. Ignorant fool. Cursed man. Liar. Demon. But I was not affected. My pain was replaced by something heavier: love. My world revolves around my beloved now; and I strongly believe that his revolves around me, too.

Anyone could tell that we are enamored by each other. The servants smile whenever they see us together in the orchard, glad that their young master has finally found someone to remove him from his solemnity every now and then. They nod at me in approval. His many brothers tease him, even the charming one named Lelouch, and his sisters giggle in ecstasy whenever he would pass by. (Of course, Schneizel would never let anything as trivial as this make him lose his temper. Instead, he would calmly invite his brothers to play a game of chess, to which he would always triumph) His mother, a huge and quick-tempered woman (She used to be lovely in her youth. Schneizel has shown me pictures.), allows me to enter her son's chambers, even at the dark of night. She tells me that she would gladly overlook anything and everything that goes on behind those oak doors. This would always make me blush in embarassment. But for all her persistence, I had never permitted myself to venture into his rooms after the last rays of the sun had disappeared. It is an abomination to my homeland and to the memory of my dear mother who had never done such an awful thing in her life. His father, the Holy Emperor Charles di Britannia, seems to share the same sentiment as his wife. I had told his mother that I would never do such a dreadful action and she, on the other hand, has assured me countless times that it was perfectly alright. I know what they hope for, but it is not yet time. Non siamo preparati.

I can understand their views, though. Schneizel was the first to be betrothed, even though he is the second son. This notion is obviously contrary to the popular belief of many that the first-born is the first to marry but the emperor always persists on change. His whole family is excited in the prospect of marriage and little ones running here and there. The emperor, most especially, is delighted on the idea of a babe being placed on his knees and him being a grandfather. Odysseus, the first prince of Britannia, is perfectly happy for his younger brother. He is not in the least perturbed by the idea that Schneizel might be king someday. To put it simply, he does not care. After all, he is an indecisive fool, making him unfit to rule.

I was only fourteen then but I can feel the pressure of being a prince's fiancee everyday. The people look at me - the way I dress, speak, eat, and walk. They are trying to find fault in me. In their eyes, I am a foreigner, incapable of being wed to their precious prince. I cannot shake of this feeling of discrimination. Even the emperor, who seems to be fascinated by my appearance, is putting up a false facade. He thinks of me only as a creature who would produce offspring to preserve his line - nothing but a mere pig. Schneizel eases my fears everyday, but it does not help me. In the shadow of my beloved, I feel so worthless.

I am happy for Schneizel, though. I am proud of his accomplishments and endeavors. He is successful in everything he does. He remains undefeated in chess, even among elite siblings. He is loved by his countrymen for his charisma and compassion. I thank the Almighty for giving me Schneizel as my soon-to-be lifetime partner. I admire him for his feats. Back then, I believed that nothing could get in the way of my beloved.

...Or so I thought.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Non siamo preparati means "we are not prepared." I am not sure if this is the correct translation in Italian, though. Feel free to correct my mistakes.