The Dancing Princesses
The king danced with his seventh partner of the evening. He hadn't stepped on a toe once, a wonderful accomplishment for him despite the innumerable balls he had attended. Someone should be proud of him. He felt a lump of dull loneliness with that thought, but it disappeared quickly with the sprightly voice of his partner.
He had already forgotten her name. It was something like Dewdrop or Woodbark or maybe Sunbeam, they all had names like that.. She was bright and cheerful. She was probably pretty, the king thought as he tried to imagine the person behind the mask and the blue dress. He didn't remember whether he danced with her before.
It didn't matter. Bright and cheerful and, most likely, pretty, he had no desire to marry her. At the end of the song, he bowed to her and thanked her.
Before he could pick another partner, the Queen appeared in front of him. They always danced at least once. He bowed before her and she curtsied.
She never wore a mask and if he were to describe her, he would say she was the epitome of regal. He had met many royal persons in his lifetime, but for all the height of their position and the strength of their power, they looked like normal men and women. Some were beautiful, with long blond hair and golden eyes. Some were unattractive, with droopy eyes and wayward curls. Some were short, with paunches. Some were bald. Even he himself was clumsy and average-looking. This Queen was not anything like them. She had an ethereal beauty; she neither looked young nor old. She projected haughtiness about her, yet, at the same time felt gentle. He couldn't tell the color of her hair, one moment, he thought of gold, and in the next he thought of darkness. He didn't like looking into her eyes because they made his water, they seem to hold a terrible mystery and he had a suspicion that she never blinked. Perhaps, the person that came closest was an ex-prince...
The thought ended abruptly.
"Why do you still struggle against us," she asked in a voice that was neither loud nor soft, but it filled him with her presence. "What else could we do to convince you of the exigency of our existence."
"Perhaps, if we could do away with the masquerade and meet people under normal circumstances like talking or having dinner or playing games or something... I don't know how I'm suppose to pick a wife from just dancing with them where I can't even see their faces!"
"We have spoken of this many times and you already know."
"Yes, yes, it's tradition."
"Yet, I think you don't quite understand."
He looked at her and he felt lost.
It had been a long journey, but he had made it to the castle.
The demon king had been unsure of what to do when he first arrived in the land of limbo. He had decided to call it that because he got tired of thinking of it as the land between worlds, that was neither here nor there nor anywhere, the land that was and wasn't.
The people themselves didn't have any unifying physical characteristics. Some looked like they were from the demon race, some from the human race and even a few from the god race. Some looked like they belong to races he had never seen.
Travel through the land seemed safe, he never had to make use of his ivory knife nor his demon magic. He never felt hungry nor thirsty, even though he never took a bite nor a sip of the food and wine that strangers offered him.
He did realize after a few days of traveling that there was a strangeness in the people's actions, in the way they talked. He could always tell the ones that were, in his words, freshly spirited away. It took him several days to figure it out, but he finally did, the people always seemed to speak in the present. As if there was neither past nor future.
With that, he finally understood the danger of the land.
He headed towards the castle only because he didn't know where else to go. He had been paying close attention to all the conversations around him as he journeyed, for he was hoping to find some clue to what he was searching for. Only when he got closer to the capitol that he started to hear of a masquerade ball that happened every evening at the castle. It was the first thing he heard that matched any stories that the wise man told him. And it seemed as good as any reason to go and make it to the ball.
It had not been as straightforward as walking through the doors of the ballroom in a costume. He wished it were. But his efforts had started to pay off.
He started as a servant and, with his charm, had secured a post as a server. The first night had been confusing. The masks were not what he expected them to be. He had expected lots of feathers and sequins and glitter and different kinds of animals and fantastical creatures. Instead all the revelers wore plain white cloth in front of their faces. Each cloth sported a different character of what he thought looked like the alphabet of the wise man's world. He also didn't understand why none of them seem to notice him. Only after a few hours did he realize the masks were not there to hide the faces. They were an enchantment. None of the dancers could see the orchestra nor the servers nor the maids nor the soldiers. They only saw other dancers.
He had been irritated with that revelation. The moment he had stepped in the ballroom, he found what he was looking for. The thing that had been missing. The thing that his people had forgotten. He had found him. But the man wore a mask. The man couldn't see him!
He knew him and didn't know him. He felt the importance of this person to him personally and to his kingdom. His memories seemed to struggle in a murky swamp and he couldn't release them no matter how much he tried. But he was content to finally confirm that his quest was not purposeless.
He had spent a few more days serving before he found his chance. He had overheard a very tall man and a woman speaking in the hushed tones lovers often use. She was bored; she had no chance with the king. He was more than accommodating.
The demon king followed them through the stone bridge, past the luminescent lake, up the wide stairways, past the subterranean levels that contained hidden treasuries, past the dining rooms and the kitchens, past the treasuries and into the library. The couple had started divesting themselves of their clothing as soon as they opened the library doors. First came the masks, then the dress and the shirt and the pants and the petticoats. They left a trail as they ran to find a secure nook in the depths of the library.
The demon king didn't want to remove his own clothes but there was no help for it. He needed to be seen and it was the only way.
It was only the middle of the night and the king was already feeling tired. Not physically tired but mentally tired. The Queen had left as she usually did after their dance. He knew, however, that there were still some Dukes and Earls and Barons and assorted advisors and ministers at the ball watching and still hoped that tonight would be the night.
He was about to ask a girl with a slender figure to dance when he felt it. Again. He had been getting frustrated with it and he almost didn't want to turn and look because he knew it would disappear again. However, defying it was as futile as trying not to breath.
He turned but this time it stayed. He followed it and encountered the girl from earlier, the bright and cheerful and, most likely, pretty girl in the blue dress. Somehow she felt different. He couldn't tell because the mask hid everything except the costume and person's essence, their personality and mannerism. The dress looked the same and the flower on the mask looked the same, but this was where the strange yet familiar presence was emanating.
He bowed to her and asked her to dance. She started to bow, stopped, then curtsied. She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. There was a slight confusion as the girl tried to put his hand on his waist and that's when he recognized it.
It was the scent of home. From the depths of his being, he knew this scent. He smelled it everyday on his bed as he drifted to sleep and it was the first thing that greeted him as his dreams left. It accompanied him practically everywhere he went. But it was not his scent. It was someone else's.
This scent had been absent for a very long time. It had not accompanied him to his room in the very tall tower. It did not saturate the sheets on the large bed under the heavy velvet canopies. And this was the first time the king had sensed it in all the masquerade balls that he had been attending for as long as he could remember.
Why was there nothing before the balls? Yet, he knew this scent that did not belong here.
He stepped on her toes and he apologized. Not that it was his fault. The girl was alternately trying to lead and follow.
"It's alright," she replied.
For the third time that evening, something rattled in his brain. The voice was familiar. It was low for a girl's voice but higher than most men. He felt that voice had been ringing in his head for a very long time. It would scold him and call him names, but then it would speak softly with love and understanding. That voice always made him happy no matter what it was saying. He had relied on it for a very long time.
He was lost in the voice and the scent and the strange yet familiar presence. And the soft calloused hand. And the firm muscles under the dress. And the toes that he kept smashing. And the irritated sighs that were issuing from the behind the mask. He was lost and he was afraid. He didn't speak fearful that words would break the magic.
The girl was the one that spoke, "Your Majesty..."
"Yes?" Please don't disappear.
"This is the third waltz."
"I know," the king replied. Please stay.
They were silent almost until the end when she spoke again.
"I hope you know I am a man," the girl -- no the man in the blue dress stated.
"I know," the king answered.
The song ended.
"I heard you always danced with the princesses but never the princes. I don't want to fool you into marrying someone you don't want..."
The king lifted both their masks, and pressed his lips onto the other's barely getting the words out, "I don't care."
The world dissolved around them. Lost memories began to fall into place. The enchantment was breaking. The king closed his eyes and whispered onto the lips of his partner, "I had forgotten. But I knew I had to wait."
His partner answered brokenly in between kisses, "No matter where, no matter when, in this world or any other, I will always come for you."
More pieces fall in. They held on afraid that if they end too soon, they would lose each other again.
The masks loosened and flew off in the cool breeze and the last of the enchantment faded away. The king was hungrily ravaging the soft lips of his dance partner, one hand clutching the soft blond hair and the other maintaining the tight grip on the other's waist.
The sun was beating on his head and the cool breeze on his bare back. His mouth was full of someone else's tongue...
Tongue?
Bare back?
The king's body stiffened and his eyes flew open.
Black eyes met green.
"Eh?!!" the king cried out as he backpedaled and tripped over a white and blue bowl and his naked bottom landed on the cold shallow water on the shore of a medium sized lake bordered by tall mountains on one side and flat plains on the other. It was midday.
"W-W-Wolfram!"
"What, wimp?!"
"Y-Y-You're naked! And kissing me! And... I'm... I'm... I'm..."
"Your Majesty! Wolfram! You made it back!" a pleasant voice shouted.
The king turned to the beach to see his name-giver run towards them and he quickly covered the incriminating evidence of his... it really didn't help for Wolfram to be standing naked over him like that.
"Yuuri, Conrad, please call me Yuuri," he said absently.
"I don't know why you're so embarrassed Yuuri..."
"I know, I know, you're my fiancé."
"No, wimp," Wolfram said as he knelt on one knee in front of his king, "I'm your husband."
end
A/N: Okay, tell me what you think. Comments, concrits, gushing adoration, flames, anything are welcomed.