Masqued Intentions

Part 3: The Masque Begins

Killian

His tie wasn't cooperating. He had to be down in the great ballroom in less than ten minutes, and he couldn't get the darn thing to lie flat and straight. Tugging it loose again in frustration, he struggled to calm butterflies dancing somersaults in his stomach. Less than ten minutes until his last chance to find someone for himself. The beginning of the end, if he couldn't find her.

"Aaaugh!" he exclaimed, yanking at the tie again. It was no use. He fiddled with it until it was at least less noticeably lopsided and strode out the door. He'd have to hurry to make it on time before the first guests arrived. Killian broke into a purposeful stride just short of running, only slowing as he neared one of the ballroom side entrances. The last thing he needed was a lecture from his father on his lack of decorum. Pausing, took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back to steel himself before entering the ballroom.

"You're late," the king said reprovingly as Killian arrived at his side.

"I apologize."

"A king doesn't apologize. He commands respect, and shows it in return in ways such as being punctual and sharply dressed," King Hawthorne replied, his eyes flicking disapprovingly to Killian's tie for the briefest of moments. Message received.

Not knowing how to reply, Killian nodded and turned to face the room, trying discreetly to adjust his tie again, this time without the benefit of a mirror. Tall arches full of exquisite rare flowers and gold accents framed the entrances to the ballroom and balcony, with vases filled with the same on stone pedestal stands around the edges of the room. He was gratified to see that his one request—that white roses be part of the flower arrangements—had been honored, making a nice contrast with the bright orchids and tulips. The whole place smelled fresh and fragrant without being overpowering. He hoped his future bride appreciated the roses. Not only did his mother love roses and tend to a special section of them in the royal greenhouses when she was alive, but it reminded him of his own little carving, now tucked in his night table for easier access later tonight. Tonight, when he would present it to a girl he did not yet know. 

Killian quietly cleared his throat and tried to focus on the room once again. The final touches being put on the various tables of delectable hors d'oeuvres that stood about the edges of the room. If his stomach weren't already in knots he'd try a little of everything. But like his earlier distraction, the food would be lost on him yet again by thoughts and worries about the evening to come.

"Not bad overall. The roses are a little cheap," the king commented as he gazed critically around the room.

"They make for a nice balance of color and scent. It's too late to change them anyway," Killian replied, suppressing his anger at his father. Of course he would choose the one thing Killian had chosen himself to criticize. Not to mention the affront to his mother, the king's late wife. When she was a live, roses dominated the castle hallways and were prominent in event decor, and he never once said anything negative about them back then.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, the king waved his hand dismissively. "You're right. Guests are due to arrive at any moment." With that, he gestured for Killian to join him on their thrones, Killian's noticeably shorter and off to the right of his father's centered, prominent one.

As if on cue, voices were heard from the entrance hall. Indeed, guests were starting to arrive at the castle and would shown to the ballroom shortly. The room, made with white marble and gold accents, was over two stories tall and hopelessly opulent. It was also set into the side of the hill the castle was built on, so that anyone entering the room came in from the main floor and descended down a grand staircase to announce themselves. Two thrones—previously three when his mother was still alive— were centered in the back of the room, with great doors opening to a balcony that almost seemed float over the bay itself, with cliffs dropping steeply beneath it. Killian always found the view from the balcony far more breathtaking than the luxury within, but unfortunately the thrones faced the room instead of the floor to ceiling windows that flanked the balcony doors.