"... Presenting, His Highness, Prince Thatcher Solomon Gramaire Visigoth of the Morterian Empire, son of His Majesty, the late King Polonius Cronos Pontmercy Visigoth of the Morterian Empire, and his betrothed, His Highness, Prince Wander A... Astro..." The announcer squinted at the paper in his hands. "I'm sorry, how do you pronounce this?"

"'Astreir'." Wander whispered a bit loudly, causing an awkward chuckle to run through the crowd nearest to the stage.

The announcer nodded, turning back to the paper. "Prince Wander Astreir Coronan of the Star Nomad Empire, son of Her Majesty, Queen Anamaria Cassiopeia Coronan of the Star Nomad Empire!"

The crowd clapped politely as the announcer attempted to catch his breath, murmured whispers already spreading throughout.

Thatcher swallowed hard, his face flushing green beneath the shadow of his hood. He hated this part of the whole 'royalty' thing, this part where he was up on display to be judged by people he barely knew. He felt like he was some kind of mysterious specimen, strapped to a lab table for cold, unfeeling scientists to poke and prod at, to judge, to classify.

It was even worse now, since with one wrong move, they could see what he really was under the safety of his hood:

A freak.

An abomination.

A monster.

Suddenly, the king-to-be felt his hand being squeezed, snapping him out of his fearful trance. He looked down, seeing his intended smiling comfortingly at him.

"You okay?" The shorter prince whispered, not wanting to draw attention to himself while his future mother-in-law made her welcoming speech.

Thatcher hesitated, glancing briefly over at the crowd. "I'll... I'll tell you later." He promised, keeping his voice down to a whisper.

Wander gave him an understanding smile, squeezing his betrothed's hand once more before turning back to the crowd, never once letting go of Thatcher's hand.

He was trying to comfort him, the prince regent realized after a moment. Thatcher smiled despite himself, feeling a sort of calmness spread throughout his body. Hesitantly, he pulled the Star Nomad a little closer to him, intertwining his fingers with Wander's.

"What's that for?" Wander whispered, making Thatcher flush with embarrassment.

"N-Nothing, I just... I, uh..." He swallowed hard, not looking at Wander. "I like holding your hand, okay?"

The other prince said nothing for a moment, then smiled. "I like holding your hand too."

"Guys, stop being so adorable, you're setting unrealistic expectations for arranged marriages!" Tuesday whispered teasingly from her place on the opposite side of Thatcher.

"Sh-Shut up!" Thatcher hissed, recoiling when he realized that he had said it loud enough for his mother to hear, making her stop her speech. She stared at him expectantly, making him flush with shame and his sister look away with a look of feigned innocence on her face.

"U-Uh... Sorry."

His mother cleared her throat, turning back to the crowd. "Well, I think I've kept you all long enough, as my dear son has so graciously informed me." The queen spread her arms, smiling genially at the crowd. "Come, then, and celebrate with us. Eat, drink, be merry!"

A great cheer rose from the crowd as the band began to play, the nobles of the quadrant all turning to each other, some to dance, some to chat, but all to do just as the queen had said: be merry.

Thatcher sighed in relief as the crowd's attention turned away from him, turning to face his intended.

"So, to answer your question, I-"

"Wander!" Tuesday called as she grabbed her brother's arm, tugging on it. "Can I borrow Thatcher for just a sec? I promise it'll be quick, then he's yours for the rest of the night!"

The prince regent rolled his eyes, turning to his sister with a sigh. "Tuesday, go-"

"Alright."

Thatcher blinked, surprised, looking at his intended. "Wait, what?"

"It's just for a minute, right?" Wander said with a shrug. "I don't see why not."

"But- but-!"

His sister grinned, tugging him along. "You heard him, Thatch! Thanks, Wander! We'll only be a minute!"

"But- but-!"

Wander smiled and waved at them, then turned to talk to a nobleman who had approached him.

Traitor.

Thatcher glared at his sister as she closed the door to one of the sitting rooms. "What do you want?"

She exhaled loudly, pulling a wayward strand of her hair behind her hair. "So, uh, things with Wander are going pretty well, huh?"

The king-to-be blinked, confused. "Uh, well, yeah, I guess."

"That's great." Tuesday clapped her hands together, looking at her brother hopefully. "Have you told him yet?"

"About what?"

The Princess rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation. "About the fact that you're not technically alive, duh."

Thatcher's face dropped, swallowing hard as he looked away nervously. "O-Oh. Oh, um, that... I, I uh, well, I mean-"

"You haven't." Tuesday concluded, her hopeful smile morphing into a disappointed frown.

"... Not yet, no."

Tuesday rolled her eyes, groaning. "Why not?"

"I-I'm waiting for the right time!"

"You're getting married in a month! This is the right time!"

The prince regent groaned. "I can't, okay?!"

"And why not?!"

"Because- Because I'm scared, alright?! I'm afraid that he'll scream, that he'll hate me, that- that he'll...!" He swallowed hard, looking down. "That he'll call me a monster."

Tuesday's eyes were wide, her hand over her mouth. "Oh, brother," she whispered, running over and embracing him. "Thatcher, why would think that he'd call you something like that?"

"Because... Well, look at me!" He shouted, pulling down his hood. "It's the truth, isn't it?!"

"No." She replied, her tone sure and strong. "No, it's not. If I know anything at all, it's that you are no monster, Thatcher. You are good, and gentle, and kind, no matter how you look. And if I know Wander like I think I do, he knows that you're a good person."

Thatcher looked down at her, his eyes watery. "How can you know that?"

"Because I've seen the way he looks at you. He cares about you so much, Thatcher, and I know you feel the same way about him. Trust me when I say that I don't think that there's anything in the entire universe that could scare him off at this point. You two belong together, anyone can see that."

"Really?"

"Of course. I mean, just look at the man you are now; before you met Wander, would you have gone and greeted the Queen and her family, much less put up with giving them a tour?"

"... No."

"And they wouldn't have asked, because you would have been so cold and off-putting that they'd have wanted as little to do with you as possible. You've changed, Thatcher." She smiled up at him, giving him another hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Thatcher smiled, hugging her back tightly. "Thank you." He whispered, his voice a little choked.

She laughed, letting go and looking at her brother. "Always."

He smiled. "I'm... I'm gonna tell him."

Tuesday's eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Tonight, after the ball."

"Are... are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Thatcher promised, pulling his hood back up. "You're right, we're getting married in a month. If there's a perfect time, then this is it."

Tuesday grinned, giving her brother another hug.

"It'll all turn out fine."

Later, they would find out how untrue that promise would be.

It might have been true, though, if only one of them had notice the irregular movements of the shadows on the wall, or how one of them rushed out the window...

Elsewhere in the castle, 'Peepers' was waiting, standing still in the dimly lit hall right outside the ballroom.

"I should think that such a mission should not take as long as it has." He murmured, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

Let me out! Get out of me! OUT!

'Peepers' rolled his eye, knocking on his head. "Quiet, you. I'll leave when I'm good and ready."

Suddenly, the shadows on the wall rushed down to the floor, moving to swirl in front of the floor. With a sigh, the 'captain' rose his hand, and with his permission given the darkness rose, forming into its true shape, a demon.

"My lord Nox," a deep, rumbling voice said, the creature bowing its head.

"Yes, yes, what is it? People will notice if I'm gone too long."

"The prince, sir, he plans to tell his intended of his true form. Tonight, as a matter of fact."

WHAT?!

The 'captain' gave off the impression of grinning evilly. "Tonight, you say?" He chuckled, spreading his arms. "Well, I see no reason why we shouldn't help him with that, now should we?"

No! No, don't you dare! I... I repent! I repent my sins! Dear Gaia, forgive me so that I might be saved!

Nox chuckled, approaching a mirror, where in the reflection Peepers was pounding on the glass. "Oh, Captain, my Captain... you're far too late for repentance."

"So, what did Tuesday want to talk to you about?"

"Hmm?" Thatcher murmured as he turned to his intended. "Ah, nothing, just... just some last minute planning about the, uh, the... orchestra's... selections."

Wander gave him an odd look, then looked over at the orchestra, which Tuesday was nowhere near.

"Ooooookay. Anyway, what was wrong on stage earlier?"

"Oh, um, I..." Thatcher drew back sheepishly. "I'm not very good with large crowds... especially if they're looking at me, with, with their judging eyes, and... Yeah."

Wander gave him an understanding look, squeezing his hand once more. "I see."

Thatcher smiled beneath his hood, feeling a little guilty, for though he hadn't lied to Wander, he still had not told him the whole truth, that the biggest reason he was nervous was what he hid beneath the hood of his cloak, the face without skin, the eyes that glowed dimly in their sockets.

It was a little funny. Three years ago, he'd sworn to himself that never again would he have to hide what he was.

And yet, here he was, a man who was to be married in a month and had yet to show his intended his face.

"Thatcher?"

The king-to-be blinked, losing his train of thought. "Uh, um, yes?"

Wander gestured towards the dance floor, where several couples were dancing, including Dracor and Demurra, although 'dancing' might have been pushing it in regards to those two; It was more like Dracor had picked up his very pregnant wife and was gently swaying.

"Would... Would you like to dance?"

Thatcher nearly fell out of his chair. "Uh- I, uh, I-I mean, um..." The king-to-be swallowed hard, wringing his hands anxiously. "I, I, um, that- that is, uh, I... I don't dance."

"O-Oh. Oh, well, that's alright, I suppose." Wander said, trying not to look or sound as disappointed as he felt.

"N-No, I, I mean, uh... what I mean is... is that... I don't know how to dance."

"Oh. Oh." Wander replied, a look of sudden understanding dawning on his face, smiling as he took his intended's hand and gently lead him towards the dance floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?"

"Well," Wander said as he took Thatcher's other hand, pulling him along, "I figure that the best way to learn, is just to do it, don't you think?"

"Wh- Wander there's people!" Thatcher hissed, flushing brightly beneath his hood.

"Oh, they won't mind." Wander smiled up at him sweetly, his eyes large and pleading. "Please?"

The prince regent hesitated, clenching his jaw tightly before letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine." He said finally.

The orange prince grinned, guiding his intended into the starting position. "Just follow my lead for now, alright?"

The king-to-be swallowed nervously, trying to keep his hands from shaking. "O-Okay."

Wander smiled at him again. "Okay, now when I step forward with my left foot, you step back with your right, and when I move my left back, you move your right forward, got it?"

"I... I think so..."

"Good. Now, we do this on a 3/4 count, so listen carefully. One, two, three, one, two, three..."

Though there were a few missteps (and toes stepped on), the pair managed to get into a rhythm, and in no time at all Thatcher had taken the lead, only occasionally having to look down at his feet.

After a while, Thatcher glanced over at the orchestra, eyes widening in surprise when he saw his sister whispering something to the conductor. She looked back at him, smiling and waving before walking back to stand with their mother.

What is she up to?

Suddenly, the orchestra began to play, and the prince regent had his answer. He flushed with both anger and embarrassment, mentally cursing his sister's notion of what "helping" meant.

The love song from La Bella et la Bêate. Could she be anymore obvious?!

"You okay, Thatcher?"

Thatcher snapped out of his angry inner tirade, looking down at his intended. "A-Ah, fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it."

Wander didn't look at all convinced, but he seemed to decide against pressing the issue, instead glancing over at the stage, where the choir had started to sing. "Such a pretty song... I wonder what they're saying?"

Thatcher hesitated, considering for a moment telling him the lyrics, then deciding against it. "It's... it's just some old cheesy song."

"Oh, really? Well, I'd still love to know what it means."

Thatcher cleared his throat, unable to keep himself from smiling. He's so cute.

"Thank you."

"Wh- Aw, crap, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Wander giggled, grinning up at his intended. "I think you're pretty cute too."

The king-to-be flushed even more brightly, nearly stepping on his intended's feet again. "I-I, um, I, I mean, um- wait, what?"

Wander laughed. "I said that I think you're pretty cute too, Thatcher."

"Wh- N-No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

The prince regent bit back a humiliated groan, feeling even more guilty than before. Would Wander have said that had he known the truth?

If he saw what was hidden under the shadows of Thatcher's cloak, would he still find his intended attractive?

Thatcher swallowed hard, straightening slightly. "W... Wander?"

"Yes?"

"Can... Can I ask you something?"

"Of course!" Wander replied happily, smiling at his intended.

The prince regent clenched his jaw, hesitating nervously. "Say... say that, hypothetically, there was something that I had been keeping from you... something, um, something kind of big."

"Uh-huh..." Wander prompted, still smiling.

"If, um... if, in this entirely hypothetical scenario, let's say that I were to, um, tell you about this hypothetical thing... how would you react?"

Wander paused, thinking for a moment. "Hypothetically?"

"Y... Yeah."

"It depends."

Thatcher blinked, confused. "On what?"

"Well, in this hypothetical scenario, is this thing you've been keeping from me something bad?"

"I... I guess..."

"Did you murder someone? Or a lot of someones?"

"N-No!"

"Did you brutally rape someone?"

"Wh- Of course not!"

"Did you poison a town's water supply, burn their crops and deliver a plague unto their houses?"

"No, no of course not! I... I don't even know how I would go about delivering a plague..."

The orange prince laughed. "Well, then, in this hypothetical scenario, I think I'd understand."

Thatcher's eyes widened in surprise. "R... Really?"

"Of course."

"You wouldn't... you wouldn't leave?"

"No, I wouldn't leave." His smile diminished a bit. "I... I won't lie to you, when we first met, I... I might have, but I'd have taken just any excuse to get out of getting married."

The king-to-be's face fell. "Oh, um... I... I made that bad of an impression, huh?"

"Hm? Oh! No, no, it didn't have anything to do with you specifically! I just... I really didn't want to get married, you know? I wanted to, I don't know, travel, or something, I-I didn't really have it all that well-planned out."

"Ah." Carefully, the larger prince spun his partner around. "And might I ask what changed?"

Wander grinned sheepishly. "I met you. I don't really think I'd like being married to anyone else, but... I think I could stand spending the rest of my with you."

Thatcher chuckled despite himself as the song ended. "Then... then, um, after the ball, would... would you meet me in the garden?"

The orange prince gave him a knowing look. "What happened to 'hypothetical'?"

"It... wasn't as hypothetical a situation as I first suggested?"

To Thatcher's relief, the shorter prince laughed, taking his intended's hand. "Of course I'll meet you."

"Oh, I'm afraid that won't be possible, Your Highness."

Both princes turned towards the newcomer, confused. 'Peepers' was leering at them, an unsettling glint in his eye.

"Captain? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness." 'Peepers' started, his voice low and uncharacteristically menacing. "But I'm afraid Peepers isn't in right now." Suddenly, his eye turned entirely black. "May I take a message?"

Haunting laughter filled the ballroom as the shadows on the walls crept down to the floor, rising and forming into horrifying, cackling demons.

"What the hell are you? Where's Peepers?" Thatcher demanded as he pulled Wander closer to him, glaring at the imposter in front of him.

"Well, technically my dear boy, your friend is standing right in front of you." The imposter replied with a shrug. "That's the best part of owning someone's soul. You can possess them anytime you want!"

A bolt of lightning shot through the air, narrowly missing the imposter's head. "I'll not have you slandering his name, villain!" The queen shouted, her fists awash in balls of electric green energy."

"Ah, but 'slander' implies that I am lying, and I'm afraid that's not the case." The imposter snapped his fingers, making a scroll appear out of thin air and unravel. He grabbed it, snapping his fingers again and making a pair of reading glasses (or glass) appear, putting it on and adjusting it. "Ahem. 'On this day, the nineteenth of March in the two-hundredth year of the Visigoth rule, I, Captain Cornelius Ford Peepers, do sell my eternal soul to the Demon King and Ruler of Chaos Nox in exchange for him causing the painful and immediate demise of King Polonius Cronos Pontmercy Visigoth. I recognize this agreement will mean my eternal damnation to the deepest pits in the Underworld, that Lord Nox shall forever have control over both my soul and body, blah blah blah, something about repenting invalidating the agreement, yadda yadda yadda, ah, here!" The imposter turned the contract around, pointing to the bottom of the paper, where, in clear view, was Peepers' signature, written in black ink.

"What?!" The queen hissed, her voice both angry and saddened.

"Dear lady, didn't you think it was odd that your husband died so suddenly, and on that day of all days?"

"What do you mean?" Tuesday asked, running to her brother's side.

'Peepers' made a 'tsk'-ing sound, shaking his head. "Oh, my dear, you must remember. Poor girl, to be tossed in a confessional like that, by your own father!"

The princess' eyes widened. "How... how did you-?!" She cried, shrinking back in fear.

"And you, Your Highness! To be so reviled for simply taking a moment of pleasure in a lifetime of misery! Surely you must remember that day as well?"

The king-to-be shrunk back, swallowing hard. "I..."

"Enough!" The queen cried, her hands alighting once more. "Show your true form, monster!"

The imposter sighed, shrugging. "If you insist."

The monocular man's eye suddenly went wide, his entire body shaking as it became enveloped in darkness, which after a moment drifted up, up, up, until it was floating above Peepers' body entirely. The captain moaned, his eye, having had returned to normal, closing as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Peepers!" The queen cried, running to her friend.

The amorphous blob of dark energy dashed into the center of the ballroom, the terrified nobles shrieking as they drew away from it. In an instant, the blob splashed onto the ground, the droplets spreading over the floor before converging in the center, rising to form a tall, well-dressed man, one in a black silk top hat who flicked his tail and grinned at the crowd.

"Ta-da!" Nox said, spreading his arms. "Lord Nox, King of Demons and Ruler of Chaos, at your service!"

Wander's eyes widened, his grip on Thatcher loosening. "You..."

The demon king grinned. "Ah, so you've heard of me, little prince! I shouldn't be surprised, though; after all, what should your meetings with dear Gaia contain if not history lessons?"

The orange prince gasped in surprise. "H... How did you-?!"

Nox simply grinned, snapping his fingers. In an instant, two demons were on either side of him, grabbing his arms and pulling him into the air.

"H-Hey!"

"I'll be taking this!" Nox said, watching as his minions pulled the prince towards the highest window.

"Wander!" Thatcher cried, running after his intended.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Nox snapped his fingers, causing the demons to stop in midair. In an instant, the demon king was standing in front of the king-to-be, his hand on the clasp of his cloak.

"A little birdie told me that you planned to tell your intended of your little secret after the ball tonight."

Thatcher's eyes widened. "N-No. No, don't you dare-!"

"Oh, what can you do, little king? What's your power compared to mine? Even what you inherited from that fool Ouranos cannot even begin to equal mine." The grin on Nox's face was twisted as he pulled off Thatcher's cloak, the crowd around them gasping when they saw the skeletal being beneath the cloak.

The demon king cackled as he forced the prince regent to look into his intended's eyes, the demons holding Wander doing the same.

"Look upon your dear Thatcher, Wander! Still think he's cute?"

"Th... Thatcher..." Wander whispered, staring down in shock at his betrothed.

Nox cackled once more, casting Thatcher aside easily and snapping his fingers. Peepers melted into the floor, popping back up by Nox's side, where the demon king picked him up.

"Well, this has been a true delight, but now that I've finally got payment for the deal you made with me, dear Prince Thatcher..." He saluted, grinning menacingly. "Farewell!"

With that, Nox, Peepers, the demons, and Wander all disappeared, the orange prince's screams cut short in an instant.

"Wander!"