Masquerade

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎

"Prince Vale, rise and shine! It's time to wake up, your highness!" The sing-song voice of my parents' butler (who was WAY too cheerful for a Monday morning) filled my large bedroom, echoing off the elegant walls and tearing me from my peaceful slumber. God, I wish they had just let me keep the alarm clock. I don't care if this is a more 'sophisticated' way for royalty to wake up, I'm not a morning person and jolting awake every morning to this is making me want to rip out my hair and use it as ear muffs.

I called out something that sounded vaguely like an 'I'm awake' before muttering a string of obscenities under my breath and rolling out of my colossal bed.

"Would you like me to make that for you, your majesty?" Offered Eduardo the butler as he motioned to my messy bed. The silken sheets had began to slide from the bed, falling off the front edge of it and the blanket appeared to have somehow been turned completely sideways. What can I say, I move around a lot in my sleep.

"No thank you," I replied back snappily, my throat feeling hoarse and my voice sounding groggy.

"Are you sure? The queen insisted that I-"

"No really, I can do it," I said, trying to be less venomous this time. I gave Eduardo a tight-lipped smile. It wasn't his fault, after all it was my parents who had put him up to this. For some reason, despite the fact that I'm almost 18, they think I'm unable to do anything for myself. Eduardo gave a slight nod of head as he turned and left my room, a manufactured smile plastered on his face.

After halfheartedly making my bed, I sat down to mentally prepare myself for the day. I ran a hand through my dark afro, sighing as I felt how messy it was. It was composed of coily, unruly curls and getting long again. Mother kept insisting I should buzz it so my crown stayed on easier, but I cringed at the thought. I smoothed it down, stripped out of my pajamas and changed into a basic button up and slacks.

Just as I finished getting dressed, I heard two sharp knocks on my door. Father, I thought. He always knocked exactly two times, one after the other, no more and no less. "Come in, father," I called.

The door swung open and there stood my father, the king, in all his glory. "Son, you're awake." He stated, frowning slightly when he saw my attire. He always insisted that those with royal blood should wear luxurious and flashy clothing all the time. Clearly my half-assed outfit didn't fill his standards.

"What do you need, father?"

"Your birthday's three days away."

"REALLY? I had no idea. Thanks for letting me know. Now if you could just leave my room-"

"Don't be a smartass, Vale," he snapped. "It's customary for every prince to have a ball on their eighteenth birthday, in order to-"

"-in order to find their future wife, the mother of their children, yadda yadda yadda. I'm familiar with the Cupid's Ball, father," I finished for him.

Whenever a boy of royal blood turned eighteen, it was customary for a ball to be held in the palace in their honor. At sunset on the boy's birthday, suitable maidens would come from far throughout the land in hopes of catching the eye of the royal young man, and they'd all dance long hours into the night. This magnificent celebration is called the Cupid's Ball, and they've been having them for centuries. Unfortunately, it looked like I wouldn't be the one to break the tradition.

My father sighed in annoyance. "Just get dressed and be downstairs for breakfast in five."

"I AM dressed, FATHER!" I called after him as he slammed my bedroom door shut.

Good old pops. I wish he would act less like a king and more like a goddamn human.

Deciding my current outfit was JUST FINE (and that my father was a stuck up shrew), I did my morning routine and made my way down the three flights of stairs to the dining hall. I always hated living in a castle. The colossal, empty rooms and dull colours filled me with feelings the opposite of cozy and welcome. They also succeeded in making me constantly think about just how small I was in the big, grand universe.

I continued down the stairs, head in the clouds, and promptly crashed into Eduardo. I shot him an apologetic look, standing up and brushing myself off. He looked unfazed, straightening his tie. "My apologies, your highness. Your parents just sent me up to get you for breakfast."

I rolled my eyes. "Father already told me. I was just doing my hair care routine." Eduardo nodded curtly and the two of us walked to the dining room.

"Father, you can't give me an afro and then expect me to be up and ready for the day in five minutes. I have a process," I complained, sitting at the far end of our gargantuan dining table in protest. The table stretched as far as the eye could see, with sixty-four chairs surrounding it. My father and I sat on opposite ends, like two strangers, which I guess was kind of what we were.

"You're the one who insists on keeping it around. I'm telling you, the crown stays on much easier with a shorter cut," My father shot back. He removed his crown and ran a hand along his closely shaved fade as if to prove a point. I shuddered at the thought of losing my beautiful fro.

"Where's mother?" I asked, ignoring his remark. Eduardo laid a large platter packed with bacon, crepes, toast, and different styles of egg in front of me. I silently thanked him.

"She's... out right now. Dealing with, the public and whatnot." My fathers cleared his throat, his inhumanly professional expression faltering slightly before he began to sip his coffee.

There was something about the mention of the public that set my father on edge. From what I heard, the kingdom of Varscellia loved and adored him. Yet, for some reason, the prospect of the world outside the palace seemed unsettling to him.

I had vague memories of the world outside. I recalled a public school, large and dusty blue, looming in a field of grass and swings. A colourful rug, cozy room, and cubbies filled with little shoes. I had spent my kindergarten there, in the public, but as soon as I had finished, my father had hired me a private tutor. Now he was keen to keep me out of the outside world, locked in the palace. I had tried protesting, but to no avail, and eventually I had decided to just give up and wait until my-

"So, about your Cupid's Ball," my father said as if reading my mind. "The chefs have been making preparations all week, so that you will be able to serve the most delectable food imaginable. The cake will be thirteen feet tall, topped with gold-dusted buttercream and hand crafted fondant flowers. The tailor has been working hard on the finest suit for you to wear, crafted from the softest silk in the kingdom. It's stunning, sure to draw all the maidens eyes right to you."

"That sounds great," I lied, the thought of hundreds of eyes fixed on me sounding less than appealing

Father caught my sarcasm and scowled at me from across the table. "Vale, this ball is for you. About you. It is tailored to you. At least try to be enthusiastic. The future of the kingdom depends on how this ball goes for you." His voice was steady, but I could tell he was quickly getting annoyed with my antics.

"Whatever," I said begrudgingly as I picked up my fork and started stuffing my face with crepes.

Father stared at me, distaste apparent on his face as he watched me throw back crepes like a starved peasant boy.

"Vale, I feel you are not taking this seriously. If there is anything that you would like to change in regards to your hall, it can be arranged, you just have to let us know."

As my father finished speaking, a brilliant idea crossed my mind. "Now that you mention it father, I do have one request."

Father raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that I had responded to him. "What would that be?"

"Can it be a masquerade ball?"