♥︎ 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 ♥︎

Prologue

The Prince started frowning. He was facing a pair of heavy gilded doors, which were closed to him. He could hear music and laughter from the other side of the doors. The party, His party, had already begun. As guests toasted the night and walked around the ornate ballroom, Crystal clinked, their eyes undoubtedly widening as they took in hundreds of precious items lining the walls. Beautiful vases, detailed portraits of faraway places, rich tapestries, and solid-gold serving plates were just a few of the many items. And compared to the charm of the guests themselves, they all paled in comparison. Since the prince did not only invite anybody to his celebrations. He only invited those he found beautiful enough to be seen in his presence. They came from all over the globe, each as much on show as the room's inanimate objects.

The prince hardly acknowledged the servants standing in front of the closed doors as they bustled around him, nervously putting the final touches on his outfit. Nearby, his Majordomo hovered, pocket watch in hand. The young women wasn't too fond of the prince's lack of respect for time. The Prince, in fact, had great pleasure in wasting the Majordomos. Next to the prince stood a maid, a feather brush in her hand. Gingerly, she painted a white line over the face of the young man. The paint glided with ease onto his smooth, perfect skin. When she had done, the maid pulled her hand back and cocked her head to the side as she took over her work.

It took hours to paint the mask, and it showed. It was exquisite. The pale curtain of paint had transformed the prince's face. No detail was spared, down to the faintest traces of gold feathers and blue highlights around his eyes and the dusting of red that sharpened his already striking cheekbones. Matching the new trend, two beauty marks had been perfectly positioned - one under his right eye and one above his crimson lips. The prince's emerald eyes shone coolly beneath the masquerade make-up.

Stepping back, the maid waited while a long jeweled coat was placed over the prince's shoulders by the head valet and then carefully checked it to ensure that not one jewel was out of place. He glanced at the maid, pleased, who then dusted the prince's wig with powder. Then they all bowed and waited for the prince to act with bated breath. The prince gave a single haughty wave, raising one gloved hand. A Footman appeared instantaneously. "More light." the prince ordered.

"Yes, your highness," the footman said, turning and reaching for the candelabrum placed nearby. He raised it so it illuminated the face of the prince. A small mirror was held by the Prince. It was silver, with blossoms on the back and a delicate handle. The mirror looked tiny and unbelievably fragile in his big hands. The prince, holding it up so that he could see his profile. Before staring straight at his reflection, he turned left, then right, then left again. Once, he nodded. And then the prince dropped the mirror, as though it were just a dishcloth.

As the mirror started to fall, the maid, who had almost fainted in relief at the prince's nod of approval, gasped. The Prince had the Majordomo open the doors to the ballroom, not even bothering to turn at the sound. The footman lunged forward as he entered, catching the mirror right before it hit the concrete. A collective sigh was issued by the servants as the doors swung shut behind the Prince. They'd be able to rest for the next few hours, out of sight of their cruel, spoiled, and unkind master.

The Prince made his way through the ballroom, oblivious of the thoughts of his servants, or perhaps conscious, but unconcerned. It was a white sea - at his invitation. It was hard for many of the guests to identify, except their masks. The outcome was enchanting. However, his mouth remained pulled down, and his solemn face in his castle did not suggest any joy in seeing such beauty. He never permitted anyone to see if he felt pain or joy. It gave him a feeling of mystery, which he immensely enjoyed. He heard the voices of young women as he passed, wondering excitedly if this was the night he had singled them out for a dance. His lips were tugged by a smug grin, but he hit it back and went on his way.