i'd marry her, i told her | wilbur soot - royalty!au

21 and 22 (I)

The ballroom is decorated, countless dishes are prepared and multitudes of invitations sent out. It's Tommy's twentieth birthday ball.

Sally's been watching from the sidelines, hidden in a dark doorway that leads to the kitchens, waiters dressed sharply whooshing past her every so often, carrying trays of food that's probably worth its weight in gold. She looks on as important people dance and mingle amongst themselves, and she so desperately wishes she were one of them, able to wear expensive clothing and be gazed at with awe, to have others revel in her beauty and grace, and dance with well-mannered young men that compliment her constantly.

Sally spots Wilbur among them, dancing with a pretty young woman in a gorgeous powder pink ball gown. Although the sight makes her stomach a bit sick, she's glad to just be able to see Wilbur, smiling and laughing as he and the girl glide along the polished marble floor. No matter how much Sally wished she was the one in his arms instead of the beautiful woman. But it doesn't bother her. Not one bit, no sir.

She also sees the birthday boy sitting at a table with other young princes and noblemen, all of them rosy-cheeked from the drinks in their shiny metal goblets. Tommy and his friends appreciatively eye the ladies, who don't seem to mind the attention as they delicately giggle into gloved hands.

Sally turns her attention back to Wilbur, except- where is he?

She looks around at the myriad of tall, brown-haired young men dressed in the most expensive clothing they can afford, certain she can pick Wilbur out of a crowd of hundreds.

"Who are you looking for?" a familiar deep voice says from beside her, making her jump. She whips her head around to see Wilbur, slightly bent over to be closer to her, smiling mischievously.

"You," she answers honestly, smiling back.

"Really? I didn't know I held that much importance," he replies, eyes sparkling.

You have no idea, she nearly blurts. "You shouldn't be here," she says in a hushed whisper instead, looking around nervously.

"What? Why not?" Wilbur says, baffled and a smidge hurt.

"You can't be talking to a commoner in the middle of a ball being thrown in your brother's honor, idiot," she tells him, wanting to thwack him on the forehead but knowing that wouldn't go over well when multiple pairs of eyes were on the prince.

"I don't see why not," Wilbur says, smirking in an annoyingly charming way.

"Shut up," Sally rolls her eyes with a smile. "Go dance with another pretty girl or something, lover boy."

"If you say so," he takes hold of her hand and tugs her closer.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, face heating up. Her eyes dart towards the guests and she makes eye contact with the woman Wilbur was dancing with earlier. She frowns at Sally.

"You told me to dance with a pretty girl," Wilbur says, putting an arm around her waist as pulling her closer still. "I believe you qualify."

"Are you mental?" she whispers angrily, face now scarlet. "What if someone sees us?"

"Well, if it matters to you that much," Wilbur rolls his eyes and releases Sally's waist, and she sighs in relief before he starts pulling her along outside.

"What the hell, Wil," Sally groans, having given up. She allows Wilbur to pull her to the garden, and her breath is nearly taken away at the ethereal sight.

The bushes and trees have snow resting atop them that sparkles in the moonlight, making the sight look unreal and bathing the whole garden in an almost eerie glow. It's something straight out of one of Wilbur's fairytale stories. Maybe Sally could pretend she was the princess in this one, meant to be with the handsomest prince.