Some ideas

Escape (the ballroom)

A/N: I found this video on Youtube and there were a lot of nice stories in the comments so I decided to write my own. This is written in the 2nd person because why not? 

"Smile." he ordered, staring coldly at you as the doors of the ballroom opened in front of you.

"Yes, father." you sayed, forcing myself to lift the corners of your mouth in a well-crafted fake smile you had worked on for a long time.

A dressed up doll whose only purpose was to be shown and used by him, that was what you were. But you hoped that this time, things would be different. If you could escape for a while, just one small moment, maybe this evening wouldn't be as bad as the last one. And the one before that. You only needed to sneak out on a balcony or in the garden while your father wasn't paying attention and it would be enough. You would be free, even if it would be for a small amount of time.

You entered the ballroom, your arm slipped under your father's, as the guard announced your arrival, catching the attention of the people already present in the room. All heads turned to you, staring, judging. That was what high society was like. A group of arrogant, rich people who liked to wear expensive clothes and watch down on those who worked hard to survive while drinking tea in fancy porcelain cups all day long. A society where the men ruled and where the women's only value was their dowry. And you simply hated it.

You expanded your smile a little more, hiding your thoughts behind it while following your father, who was joining a group of men who seemed to be in a serious conversation. Your feet already started to ache. Wearing high heels definitely wasn't a bright idea, but at such parties, it was a must. Especially since your father always made sure that what you were wearing was impeccable, without the slightest mistake.

Right foot stretched behind, bent legs on each side, hands lifting the sides of the first layer of fabric of your dress, but not too much, bust leaning slightly forward, eyes to the ground. You greeted the group of men politely with a bow, following the instructions of the etiquette perfectly. Their greedy eyes stayed on you too long for your taste, but you didn't let your disgust show and simply continued to smile. They acknowledged you with a nod and continued their conversation with your father as if you had suddenly become invisible. In their eyes, you did.

You feigned interest in what they were saying and tried to listen, hoping to maybe learn one or two useful things, but their business didn't interest you. Nothing new here. You were used to standing next to your father all evening long until the ball really started. But somehow, listening to the men still was better than participating in the ladies' gossip sessions. So you pretended to be following every word that was said, allowing your mind to drift apart for a moment.

According to the rules of a party, the organisers of the party had to be the last ones to enter the ballroom, allowing them to prepare a great entry that would catch everyone's attention. Some time would then be spent chatting, normally about an hour, until the musicians would start playing and the ball could finally start. The first dance is reserved to the main couple of the party, usually the organisers. After that, everyone is allowed to dance. The ladies have to stay where they are until they are asked to dance – by a man, obviously. Refusing is almost impossible as it is seen as a disgrace for one of them, usually the lady, so it only happens rarely, and when it does, the topic becomes the most beloved subject of the nobles for a week.

The organisers entered the ballroom not long after, appearing on a balcony in order to be seen by everyone. They are the count and countess of whatever. The man stepped closer to the fence and made a short speech of welcome, wishing all of you to spend a great night in this "modest home" of his. What a hypocrite. Everything there was fancy and exuded wealth. Nonetheless, you clapped your hands as everyone around you started applauding. A satisfied smile on his mouth, the count offered his arm to his wife, who took it and they walked down the stairs elegantly to join the crowd.