Thanks to you all. I love you.

John was our coachman. Everywhere we went, he went, for he was the one to take us there, and was basically our only method of transportation. Everyone recognized that he was as dull as a rock, with a monotone, scratchy voice that he rarely used, except when he said, "Where to, your majesty?" Anyone who had met him in hopes of becoming friends, was soon shot down with that blank, flat stare.

So it was a quiet ride.

Not that I didn't prefer it that way, of course. I had never really been the social type, the one to run around desperately seeking attention from others, or striking up an interesting conversation on the spot. I suppose growing up alone in a huge castle would do that to you. Anyway, even if I was that kind of person, I wouldn't said something, for I had too much on my mind to even think anything.

Fiddling with my white gloves nervously, I strained my head to try and not look to where we were headed, to focus on nothing but the night sky, trees, and grass. Which, of course, didn't go as planned, because once I spotted a castle in the distance, I completely freaked out.

Why was I even doing this again? One part of me screamed.

The more reasonable, sane side argued back, Because you were forced to.

Oh. That's right.

Though I would never tell anyone, I was scared out of my mind. How was I expected to act? What was I supposed to say? I was hardly what you would call the perfect princess. Was that what everyone was looking for? Most likely. At such a sacred tradition such as this, the only ones that would be allowed would probably be the most youthful, beautiful, poised, confident royalty.

Was I even any of the above?

It seemed we got to the ballroom in a matter of seconds, much to my extreme disappoinment. The fact that everything was just building so fast just added to my apprehension about the whole thing.

John, once he made sure the carriage was completely stopped, immediately climbed out and went around to my side. He stiffly opened the door for me, seeming bored. After all, this was approximately his eleven thousandth time doing this exact movement. He waited patiently with his hand held out, ready to escort me into the great hall.

But I couldn't seem to make myself move. It was as if I had no control whatsoever over my body, like all my bones and muscles and joints were frozen solid, numb to the point where I couldn't feel them. I was clutching the sides of my seat tightly, so much that it seemed I had just witnessed a near-death experience. I heard an erratic wheezing sound, and I looked nervously up at John, who was now eyeing me doubtfully. He was still waiting, his gloved hand held out expectantly.

"Are you alright Princess?"

I realized then that the shaky, uncontrolled sound was mehyperventilating, and forced out a shaky laugh. "Yes, I-I'm fine. Just nervous, I suppose." He nodded, not offering any consolation, and pulled me out of the carriage. And by pull, I literally mean that he had to forcibly bring me out.

Once he was positively sure that I was able and willing to use my legs for walking and standing, he led me through up the steps and through a giant door, where a tall man in a stiff-looking suit stood. The man's face and body were serious and expressionless, showing no kind of emotion whatsoever.

"France." John stated simply to the man, who nodded once in return, gesturing to mewith a motion of his head to proceed through the second set of enormous wooden doors.

I froze, my hands trembling. But they were all staring at me, so I had no choice but to move on. As I approached the entrance, he man suddenly called out though the doors, loudly but softly all the same, "France."

Which, to my dismay, lead to yet another set of announcements.

"Princess Isabella Swan, of France." This time, though, it was very loud. I winced as I heard the booming voice of the caller echo throughout what I presumed to be a very large, very wide hall.

The announcement was proclaimed as I walked through the two doors, into the ornately decoratred ballroom. The caller's voice had been loud. So loud, that everyone in the entire room turned their heads to look at this Isabella Swan of France.

I turned swiftly to glare at the short little man who was calling the names out, and ultimately responsible for the amount of attention I was presently recieving. When he noticed that I was shooting daggers at him through my eyes, he jumped. He looked scared, and nervously bowed, thinking that a showing of inferiority was what I was looking for. I sighed, realizing he would never understand, and looked back to the dining hall.

It was most likely the most beautiful room I'd ever seen. Silken blood red drapes hung grandly from the rich, cream colored walls, all positioned carefully around the room. Fifty or so elegant wooden tables were scattered everywhere, the place settings that were layed on them made of the finest silver. Porcelein bowls had thin, shining gold linings, and the bases of silverware held tiny encrusted jewels. But, unduobtedly, the grandest of all was tne enormous chandelier that hung in the center of the room, absolutely dazzling with all of its pure diamonds and glowing candles.

Everything was like a dream, right smack in the middle of a nightmare.

As I descended (I prayed not too awkwardly) down the staircase, I focused mostly on not tripping and making a fool of myself-which, if I do say so myself, went quite smoothly, with only one slight near-falling accident.

I stepped down with a relieved sigh and grinned. I had made it.

I took one glance around the room again, trying to calm myself down before passing out from the overwhelming evironment. And, heaven knows, I would be more than likely to do just that, judging from my reaction to the whole thing earlier. You can do this Bella. It's okay. Everything will be alright. You'll probably get lucky and no one will talk to you the entire night. It will all be just fine...However, I didn't have time to think one more thing before I was bombarded by questions.

And, ironically enough, they came from only one person.

"Hello! You are Princess Isabella, correct? I must say you look absolutely divine, Isabella. Truly lovely. Who made it? I am Prince Michael Newton, of Germany. But you can simply call me Michael, if you wish." His voice dropped to a conspiritorial whisper. "Or, you can even call me Mike." He grinned. "How are you tonight? Are you excited for this occasion? I am positive we will have an astounding time." Michael talked in a rush, as if he were in a hurry to spit it all out, like he was on a time constraint.

I stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. It was all so funny, I couldn't help myself. And, I was relieved to find that my tension had even eased a bit from the action. "Thank you Prince Michael, or..." I mimicked his earlier whisper. "Mike, I should say. And you, in turn, shall call me Bella. And yes…I am very," I paused. "…excited for this festivous occasion."

I hoped he didn't catch my true feelings in my pause. Was I being too obvious about my distate for this entire event?

But Mike didn't seem to notice anything unusual in my speech, and just went right on talking. "Hmm. Yes, well, you will save at least one dance for me, will you not? On second thought, never mind. Whatever happens, I am positive you will be my choice partner for the first dance on my night." He grinned, and I half-heartedly smiled with him.

I had learned from Marie that each of the eldest princes or princesses of all the countries in Europe had a night dedicated to them and their culture, and as was tradition, they would choose their partner for the ceremonial first dance of the night. I hadn't especially been dreading this fact, for who would choose me anyhow for their first dance? But now, as I heard Mike speaking, I was horrified.

"Oh, that truly is considerate of you, but I simply cannot."

He stared at me incredulously. "And why not?"

"I can't dance." I smiled sheepishly, and he laughed.

"Well, worry not, my beautiful Princess Isabella. Everyone claims I am a magnificent dancer, and I have to agree with them. And with me on your arm, how can you not look positively wonderful? We are the perfect match." His eyes danced, and I had to giggle. There wasn't really anything creepy in the words, he was just poking fun.

This Mike was nice, I decided. With perfectly combed, pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he gave off an almost childish, giddy demeanor. Yes, he was a bit too overexcited, and he did seem to be a little self-absorbed...But I suppose it doesn't really matter. At least I won't be wandering alone, looking like a fool through the whole night.

I turned and started to walk around, Mike following close behind. I hadn't really had an idea of where I was going to go, but I just wanted to get out of that one spot. It was where all of the royalty would be descending from the stairs, and I didn't want to cause a hold up. Heaven knows what would happen or who would try to strangle me once I accidentally spilled wine on their brand new ball gown (which is certainly something I would be likely to do).

It caught me when I had my guard down. I tripped.

I'm not entirely sure, but I think I might have caught my foot on a rug, or tripped over someone's ankle, or maybe even stumbled over thin air. I felt the air rushing against me as I clumsily fell. Oh, hell, Isabella, I scolded myself, and closed my eyes, waiting for the impact of the floor and praying I wouldn't break anything or cause something to bleed.

But it never came.

"Wha…" But I was unable to finish, for I couldn't think anymore, move any longer, or even speak. Nothing in my body was moveable, even more so than earlier tonight. In fact, it was as if the entire world had stopped, and time was no longer a factor of it.

Because I was staring into the most beautiful topaz eyes I'd ever seen.

Thank you to all of you who reviewed! I really hope you like this chapter-I had a lot of fun writing it! What do you think of Mike? Hehe...What a squanderer. Well, read and review! I promise you'll get more of your favorite character in the next chapter! ;-)

Belle