A Gaze Across The Ballroom

•~Chapter II~•

°~{A Gaze Across The Ballroom}~°

~Chapter II~

Elijah's heart raced as he quickly extended his hand, his voice steady but with an accent of urgency. "Are you alright, Your Highness?"

The prince, still grappling with his irritation, hesitated before accepting Elijah's hand. "I'm alright," he muttered, his tone clipped. "This happens all the time."  The moment hung in the air as the prince allowed Elijah to help him up, the tension between them thickening like the spilled wine at their feet.

The whispers around them grew louder, filling the ballroom like an unsettling hum. Elijah narrowed his eyes as he took in the murmurs and the curious gazes directed at them. He turned back to the Crown Prince, bowing slightly.

"My apologies, Your Highness," Elijah said, his voice steady despite the growing tension in the room. He glances at the marble floor that is now covered in thick red liquid and glass pieces.

The Crown Prince straightened, brushing off his clothes with an annoyed scowl, clearly irritated by the spreading stain. As he heard the hushed gossip, he glanced around with a look of exasperation, his patience wearing thin. He waved off Elijah's apology with a hint of a sigh. "It's fine," he replied gruffly. "Just... be more careful next time."

He continued to adjust his attire, trying to salvage some dignity despite the mess. His gaze swept over the ballroom, catching sight of the onlookers whose whispers were growing louder, feeding off the small scandal. He let out a weary sigh, the annoyance still etched into his expression. Finally, he turned back to Elijah, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're a butler, aren't you? Help me take care of this mess."

"I understand." Elijah nods, though his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the persistent whispers and staring eyes that bore into them. The prince's eyes flicked around the room, his irritation and embarrassment palpable as the whispers continued to swirl. It was obvious that he found the attention unbearable. The butler glances at the Crown Prince, who was clearly irritated and slightly embarrassed of the unwanted attention grating on him. Elijah recalled Isabelle's earlier comment about how the prince didn't seem to enjoy being in the spotlight.

After a moment's consideration, Elijah spoke up. "Please follow me, Your Highness."

"Lead the way," he said begrudgingly. When Elijah suggested that he follow him, the prince scoffed, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes. Clearly, he was eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere.

Elijah leads the prince down a quiet corridor, away from the prying eyes and gossiping mouths. The butler isn't all to familiar to the castles interior, but he has visited this place often enough to know the way, since Lady Isabelle had always spilled something on her dress every time they're invited to attend such parties.

The sound of the party gradually faded into the distance, replaced by the soft echoes of their footsteps. They arrived at a small, secluded storage room, and Elijah opened the door, stepping inside to grab a few towels. He handed one to the prince as he begins to analyze the stain carefully: "Fortunately only your shirt is stained Your Highness, the waistcoat can be easily cleaned." Elijah says with a reassuring tone, he then takes a few steps back. "Please wait here for a moment, Your Highness," Elijah said, his voice calm and professional. "I shall bring you an extra one." The Crown Prince takes the towel with a deep sigh. He began to blot the wine stains on his shirt, his irritation evident in the tight set of his jaw. He glances at Elijah, who mentioned fetching spare clothes, and gave a quiet, "Thank you," as he continued his attempts to clean up.

Moments later, Elijah returns. The butler places the new shirt on the table beside Vernon as he's still trying to remove the stain. "Here you go, your Highness" says Elijah as he turns his back to him and soaks a towel in cleaning detergent. "Thank you,"  Vernon mutters while he focuses on rubbing the towel hard on his shirt, hoping that by some miracle, the stain disappears.