(Masked Ball, Part One-ain't I evil?)

"The Pianist"

~Chapter Nineteen~

Music plays around the room; the magnificent ball room that is decorated with streamers of gold, red and black. Lanterns hang from the ceiling in an haphazard design, but also very beautiful; resembling stars first appearing brightly after a storm. Gabriella finds herself in awe, her stomach doing flips and flopping like a fish on the deck of a ship that's been at sea for far too long. She grasps Troy's arm tightly as they climb the stairs, trailing behind a couple that is much shorter than the both of them and much more plump. "Gabriella," Troy says, she bites her lip, lifting her eyes to look at him from a sideways glance.

"Yes?"

"What does the room look like?" How he wishes he can see, but it's not just the room he wants to see. It's the girl- the woman -he has on his arm tonight. He would love to see, instead of having to imagine or having...someone else say how beautiful she is, he would love to see her. See her eyes, her face...feel her. She seems so much like a figment of his own mind that he created so he would be in company.

If that's so, then he's glad. He's mad for this angel that he may or may not have created in his own mind; regardless, he'd give anything just to see her properly. "Well?" He asks again, tightening his grip on her arm. "What does it-"

"It's beautiful." She says, looking around through her mask. "I've never seen anything like it. Ever." Why is that? Because she's never been to a ball. He feels himself smiling, imagining her smile.

"I bet it's not as beautiful as you." He whispers, she turns her head on him but doesn't speak, just stares. Did he just...no, he couldn't have- but what if he... "Is everything okay?"

"Uhm," she shakes her head to clear it, and then smiles up at him. "I'm just..nervous." They walk the few steps up the stairs to the where a man; tall, yet stout, is standing with his nose in the air and his eyes narrow as they see Gabriella and Troy. She bites her lip and looks down at the carpeted stairs, why doesn't she just become part of the wall fixtures if everyone is going to be staring at her?

The man clears his throat, reading off a parchment scroll, "Troy Bolton"- is it possible for everyone in the room to stop dancing...or whatever else they are doing to stare at the two of them? -"accompanied by...Gabriella." Is her last name of no importance? He squeezes her arm gently, yet firmly, careful when he takes a step on to the step that leads down to the ballroom floor; if he feels the eyes of everyone staring, he says naught but Gabriella is itching to turn on her heels and run out the door and just run on home to her mother's safe arms.

This is a worst nightmare that she's never dreamed of having, and yet...being here on Troy's arm. It's like the most beautiful dream.

"Would care to dance?" Troy asks, sweeping on to the floor as soon as their feet carefully touch the smooth marble; servants and guests eye them both- probably, because Troy over the years has become some what close to a reclusive hermit and Gabriella, well, she's a peasant ...not one to be invited to balls of this...caliber hosted by Sharpay Evans. Blushing, she feels him place a hand on her waist and pull her so close that she can hear his breath enter and leave his lungs. The music turns to a new song, and they are lost in a sea of masked faces and soft murmurs behind hands before Gabriella can even utter the words "Yes...please"..

And Troy's glad, because the image of the two of them dancing is one that he will like to imagine without words.

The imagination is a precious artifact of the human mind, it must never be wasted ...or used for wrong doings.

"I assure you, Monsignor Travis." Sharpay purrs, her blond hair done up in that...hideous do' and her eyes lined heavily in black; her gown trails the ground and billows at her feet like water waiting to drown her as she steps into it and treads it's depths. The colour is not flattering to her, and her breasts look ready to pour from her bodice at any moment a man's hand rips the fabric from her body. She wraps her arms around the man's arm and she presses herself against him, her eyes glazing over seductively, "My room is...private." he smiles appreciatively and pulls her closer- if such a thing is possible -kissing her lips and drawing his lips down her jaw and to her breasts, she moans like a petulant child wanting sweets.

His sweets that is very noticeably standing up from his trousers.

"This way, Monsignor-"

"My lady!" Groaning the two pull away from each other, albeit relunctantly, and turns toward the servant; her hair flying everywhere and her lips swollen as if she'd been indulging in the Devil's sweet, tempting kisses as Sharpay just had. The blond narrows her eyes and adjusts her mask, not bothering to adjusting her bodice. She stares the servant girl in the face.

"What is it?"

"You-you..." she stammers, bending her fingers in her hand and looking at the floor, "you have told me to-to..tell you when he and she arrive-"

"refresh my memory, serf. Whom?"

"The prince Troy Bolton and-"

"Her!" Sharpay hisses, turning towards the monsignor and smiling politely, "we'll finish our fun later, perhaps, but I must tend to these guests, they are important for tonight's entertainment." Monsignor Travis smirks, picking up Sharpay's hand and bring it to his lips and murmuring something in an accent neither Sharpay nor the servant girl recognizes as he turns to take his leave. Smiling like a foolhardy git, Sharpay turns to the servant and her face turns blank and dark. "Take me to them."

"Yes ma'am-"

"Oh and Serf-I mean...Adriana...where is my brother?"

The young girl has the audacity to grow pale and look down as her lips tremble, "I-I...I haven't-"

"I know he's here somewhere. Do me a favour would you?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Stay away from him." Adriana looks down, feeling her throat tighten but forcing herself not to cry. Sharpay is not her master, not after Ryan had asked her ...that question that makes all women swoon and fawn and dote on their man, making their knees weak and their faces blush with heat as their men kiss them with the passion of a soon to be husband. Of course she chided him on her station being much lower than his, but he says to her that he doesn't care. He loves her.

Loves. That word that she hasn't heard from anyone but her father before he died...she's proud to hear from Ryan; he makes her heart flutter. He makes her...feel like she's not an abused servant to a whore-ish princess. "Did you hear me, Serf?" Sharpay snaps at her, pinning her with a glare. Adriana nods, not saying a word. "Good." with that, Sharpay takes her leave to the ballroom to where the "stars" of the night's "entertainment" await her...hospitality.

New chapter!(: This is the first part of the Masked Ball, I'm evil aren't I?

More Ryan and Adriana in this one...(is is Adriana or Ariana? Can some one please look and see for me? THANKS!)

There is a lovely Troyella moment in here for you *grins*

Sharpay is a bitch as usual...hmm...oh, she's also a whore in this story, did you guys know that?

Don't forget to check out my NEW! story "Finding Light In Dark Places", let me know what you think of that? **I'm working on the first official chapter for that story as well...anyway, let me know what you think of that?

Please and thank you.

Reviews and criticism are greatly appreciated.

Love,

~Elena xxx