Ariadne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demonicbeauty) wrote2020-02-27 08:35 am
demonicbeauty) wrote2020-02-27 08:35 am
Entry tags:
I've never gone surfing or ran with a crowd or danced on a table or laughed much too loud...
Ariadne had never owned a dress so fine. Of course, she owned precious few dresses, none of them ballgowns, so that wasn't saying much. But at the moment, she was just a little too distracted by her reflection in the mirror to think rationally. The silk was pale blue, lighter than the wool dresses she wore around the palace. It gathered over her right shoulder, falling down into a window sleeve to her thighs. The left shoulder was bare and Aunt Lysia had allowed her to borrow a copper arm cuff that snaked up her bicep like a vine growing around a tree. Her bodice was a deeper shade of blue, with gold laces. When she spun around the fabric of her full skirt flared out like a daffodil blooming.
Now that she was fifteen, her figure could finally fill out a gown. A fact that probably hadn't escaped her aunt's attention. After years and years of begging to be allowed to attend a ball, Lysia had finally relented, even stuck around long enough to plait her hair before she had to go upstairs to attend her duties. Ariadne wanted to rush right up after her, but Aunt Lysia had made her promise to wait for an escort.
Which just left her restlessly twirling in front of their cracked, foggy mirror. The night was happening without her. She couldn't stand it.
But finally, the knock came. Ariadne took half a sprint to the door, before she remembered that she needed to be ladylike tonight. She stopped herself short, taking a deep breath and smoothing down the front of her bodice before she walked--slowly, with dignity--to open the door. And she hadn't really known who to expect when Aunt Lysia told her she would have an escort. Maybe Prince Aden or another one of the operatives. She certainly hadn't expected to see Princess Amanda herself. And yet, there she was.
Somewhat tall for an Elf, she wore her purple livery of state with dignity. Her bright red hair--just starting to silver at the temples--was swept up on top of her head, held in place by a circlet, exposing her long, pointed ears. The royal jewels glittered at her throat and on her fingers, but not quite as bright as her warm smile, when she looked down to appraise Ariadne. "You look...lovely."
Ariadne curtsied quickly. "I wasn't expecting you, your majesty."
"It's your first ball," Amanda said, reaching out to put her fingers under Ariadne's chin, lifting her to stand. "I didn't want to throw you to the wolves unprotected."
"Wolves?"
"Courtiers can be..." She paused, searching for the word. "Well. They talk. Whisper. No details manage to escape them. But making an entrance with me will spare you some of that."
She didn't know what that meant. But Ariadne could sense the gravity in Amanda's tone, so she decided not to press further. She'd learn for herself. And anyway, they were wasting time with all of this talking. Missing the ball!
It was as if Amanda could sense her impatience. She smiled again, crow's feet forming in the corners of her Elf-blue eyes. "I was thirteen the first time I attended a state function," she said. "And terrified. You're far braver than I could ever hope to be, Airy."
"Braver?"
"Come." She held out her elbow to Ariadne. "Let's make your debut."
Ariadne slipped her hand into the crook of Amanda's elbow, leaning over to pick up the trailing train of her gown with the other hand, just as she'd practiced with Aunt Lysia. Together, the two of them marched through the plain, dim hallway of the servants' wing, the sound of bright music swelling as they drew closer and closer to the ballroom. Ariadne picked out a mandolin. An ocarina. A harp. No drum, though. The drum was an instrument of war. And the people of Valeria were very good at pretending there wasn't a war going on.
Again, Amanda seemed to be picking up on her thoughts. "I want you to do me a favor tonight, Airy."
"Anything."
"I want you to have fun."
"Fun?"
"Tomorrow, we go back to work." She smiled slyly, looking down along the line of her shoulder. "Do you think you can do that?"
Ariadne laughed. "I'll try." She was pretty certain Amanda didn't have anything to worry about, though.
They slipped in through the hidden door, behind the dais and the throne. They wouldn't have to bother with formalities, Amanda explained. So that they wouldn't be announced and stop everything mid-stride. From the cramped, tiny room, Ariadne was able to peek out from between the curtains behind the platform, to see before she would be seen.
It was more incredible than she'd ever dreamed.
The entire room, normally washed out in white sunlight, was bathed in gold. There were more candles than Ariadne had ever seen her entire life, dotting the walls like fallen stars. Suns. Their warm glow danced off of the marble tiles and against the glittering gowns and jewels of the guests, as they moved across the floor in a carefully choreographed galliard, partners coming together and moving apart in time. Rich, purple fabrics draped over the tables and chairs along the periphery of the room, trimmed with cloth-of-gold, studded with pearls.
In one corner sat the musicians--ten in total. They wore matching purple liveries, gold thread forming the royal crest of the House of Harkin. Their instruments were made of polished wood, of gold, of silver, of gleaming black stones. They played with such peaceful, happy expressions on their faces. As if the music were the only thing in the world.
Each one reminded her, briefly, of her father.
And then there was the food! Mountains and mountains of fruit and pastries, gobbling up the very last of the sugar rations in the castle. Deep, swirling bowls of ruby-red wine. Savory breads. Piles of nuts and berries. All of it spilled out across silk tablecloths and platters engraved with the history of Valeria with the signs of the goddesses.
"It's like something out of a dream," she whispered.
Amanda smiled wryly. "Perhaps." She gave Ariadne a little shove. "Go on."
Ariadne looked back over her shoulder, offering Amanda a tiny smile, before she pulled herself up to her full height and slipped between the curtains.
At first, no one seemed to notice her as she swept into the ballroom. But slowly, eyes started to turn.
Who is that?
She's new.
I've never seen her before.
Ariadne did her best to pretend that she couldn't hear. She'd pretended not to be an Alastrian for a very long time. She could keep it up.
She's a beauty.
Deposed royalty, perhaps?
She must be one of the Barrs. Or maybe a Corbel?
It was much harder to ignore what you were hearing when, for the first time ever, it was about you. But Ariadne crossed over to the dance floor, taking a spot opposite a dark-haired gentleman she didn't know. The music began again, this time a pavan. Smiling in disbelief--she was really about to dance a pavan at a ball--Ariadne stepped into the beat.
Now that she was fifteen, her figure could finally fill out a gown. A fact that probably hadn't escaped her aunt's attention. After years and years of begging to be allowed to attend a ball, Lysia had finally relented, even stuck around long enough to plait her hair before she had to go upstairs to attend her duties. Ariadne wanted to rush right up after her, but Aunt Lysia had made her promise to wait for an escort.
Which just left her restlessly twirling in front of their cracked, foggy mirror. The night was happening without her. She couldn't stand it.
But finally, the knock came. Ariadne took half a sprint to the door, before she remembered that she needed to be ladylike tonight. She stopped herself short, taking a deep breath and smoothing down the front of her bodice before she walked--slowly, with dignity--to open the door. And she hadn't really known who to expect when Aunt Lysia told her she would have an escort. Maybe Prince Aden or another one of the operatives. She certainly hadn't expected to see Princess Amanda herself. And yet, there she was.
Somewhat tall for an Elf, she wore her purple livery of state with dignity. Her bright red hair--just starting to silver at the temples--was swept up on top of her head, held in place by a circlet, exposing her long, pointed ears. The royal jewels glittered at her throat and on her fingers, but not quite as bright as her warm smile, when she looked down to appraise Ariadne. "You look...lovely."
Ariadne curtsied quickly. "I wasn't expecting you, your majesty."
"It's your first ball," Amanda said, reaching out to put her fingers under Ariadne's chin, lifting her to stand. "I didn't want to throw you to the wolves unprotected."
"Wolves?"
"Courtiers can be..." She paused, searching for the word. "Well. They talk. Whisper. No details manage to escape them. But making an entrance with me will spare you some of that."
She didn't know what that meant. But Ariadne could sense the gravity in Amanda's tone, so she decided not to press further. She'd learn for herself. And anyway, they were wasting time with all of this talking. Missing the ball!
It was as if Amanda could sense her impatience. She smiled again, crow's feet forming in the corners of her Elf-blue eyes. "I was thirteen the first time I attended a state function," she said. "And terrified. You're far braver than I could ever hope to be, Airy."
"Braver?"
"Come." She held out her elbow to Ariadne. "Let's make your debut."
Ariadne slipped her hand into the crook of Amanda's elbow, leaning over to pick up the trailing train of her gown with the other hand, just as she'd practiced with Aunt Lysia. Together, the two of them marched through the plain, dim hallway of the servants' wing, the sound of bright music swelling as they drew closer and closer to the ballroom. Ariadne picked out a mandolin. An ocarina. A harp. No drum, though. The drum was an instrument of war. And the people of Valeria were very good at pretending there wasn't a war going on.
Again, Amanda seemed to be picking up on her thoughts. "I want you to do me a favor tonight, Airy."
"Anything."
"I want you to have fun."
"Fun?"
"Tomorrow, we go back to work." She smiled slyly, looking down along the line of her shoulder. "Do you think you can do that?"
Ariadne laughed. "I'll try." She was pretty certain Amanda didn't have anything to worry about, though.
They slipped in through the hidden door, behind the dais and the throne. They wouldn't have to bother with formalities, Amanda explained. So that they wouldn't be announced and stop everything mid-stride. From the cramped, tiny room, Ariadne was able to peek out from between the curtains behind the platform, to see before she would be seen.
It was more incredible than she'd ever dreamed.
The entire room, normally washed out in white sunlight, was bathed in gold. There were more candles than Ariadne had ever seen her entire life, dotting the walls like fallen stars. Suns. Their warm glow danced off of the marble tiles and against the glittering gowns and jewels of the guests, as they moved across the floor in a carefully choreographed galliard, partners coming together and moving apart in time. Rich, purple fabrics draped over the tables and chairs along the periphery of the room, trimmed with cloth-of-gold, studded with pearls.
In one corner sat the musicians--ten in total. They wore matching purple liveries, gold thread forming the royal crest of the House of Harkin. Their instruments were made of polished wood, of gold, of silver, of gleaming black stones. They played with such peaceful, happy expressions on their faces. As if the music were the only thing in the world.
Each one reminded her, briefly, of her father.
And then there was the food! Mountains and mountains of fruit and pastries, gobbling up the very last of the sugar rations in the castle. Deep, swirling bowls of ruby-red wine. Savory breads. Piles of nuts and berries. All of it spilled out across silk tablecloths and platters engraved with the history of Valeria with the signs of the goddesses.
"It's like something out of a dream," she whispered.
Amanda smiled wryly. "Perhaps." She gave Ariadne a little shove. "Go on."
Ariadne looked back over her shoulder, offering Amanda a tiny smile, before she pulled herself up to her full height and slipped between the curtains.
At first, no one seemed to notice her as she swept into the ballroom. But slowly, eyes started to turn.
Who is that?
She's new.
I've never seen her before.
Ariadne did her best to pretend that she couldn't hear. She'd pretended not to be an Alastrian for a very long time. She could keep it up.
She's a beauty.
Deposed royalty, perhaps?
She must be one of the Barrs. Or maybe a Corbel?
It was much harder to ignore what you were hearing when, for the first time ever, it was about you. But Ariadne crossed over to the dance floor, taking a spot opposite a dark-haired gentleman she didn't know. The music began again, this time a pavan. Smiling in disbelief--she was really about to dance a pavan at a ball--Ariadne stepped into the beat.