Fur

First Ball

"Princess Victoria of Ellesburg!"

Armelle rushed through the corridors as her gown bobbed with her.

"Princess Annabelle of Roseville!"

Almost there!

"Princess Isabella ...Maria Lucia Elizabetta of the Corona Islands!"

Wait, what kind of a name is that?

At last,

"Princess Eleanora of Frell!"

Armelle thanked the announcer and stepped into the ballroom. Everyone was wearing dark mature ballgowns. They all turned at the sight of her. Christopher was one of them.

His eyes locked onto hers. Her dress floated just above the ground in waves of bronze petal-like silk. She was the only light amidst the darkness.

People were murmuring. Armelle tried to float down the long staircase in front of her like a dream but inevitably tripped and fell. Christopher rushed up to her.

"Gosh-! I mean, goodness. Are you alright, miss?"

Armelle immediately jumped up.

"Yes, of course. 'Tis but a scratch' as they say."

"You've read Monty Python?" Christopher asked, amazed.

"Of course! Monty Python is just one of the many scripts I've read from America."

"Have we met before?"

It was incredible he could not recognize her. The gown must be magical or something.

Armelle replied honestly, "Yes, and we're meeting each other for the first time."

Christopher grinned, despite the confusing statement. Suddenly, the orchestra started up. Christopher bowed.

"Shall we dance?"

Armelle froze. She didn't know they were supposed to dance. "Could you teach me how to waltz correctly?"

Christopher took her hand. "Gosh, certainly!"

Together, they awkwardly waltzed, apologizing whenever they stepped on each other's feet. Finally, they gave up and walked outside to the balcony. They conversed beneath the streaked night sky.

"My father wanted to arrange a marriage before I even met the person. Isn't that crazy?" Armelle laughed heartily.

"Fathers are always like that," Christopher agreed. "What did your mother say?"

"She wasn't there anymore," Armelle replied, attempting to sound casual. "My mother died before I could bid farewell."

Christopher noticed how somber Armelle was then. He changed the subject.

"I have the same situation. Mother and Father arranged this all for nothing! I don't like the outfits, solemnity, etc. Luckily, you're not like them."

Armelle smiled. She asked, "Just curious. What time is it?"

"11:45. Why?"

"Already?! I'm terribly sorry, but I must leave!"

With that, Armelle rushed off the balcony, through the crowd and out the door.

She practically ripped off her dress. Dissatisfied with her perplexion in the mirror, she smudged extra soot on her cheek to give a more grubby look.

The moment she entered the kitchen, Lucille plopped a large tray of bowls into her arms, sighing, "I was worried you had forgotten!" and pushed her to the dining hall.

Strands of hair fell into Armelle's face, so she tried to toss it out of her way, not noticing one dropping into one of the soup bowls.

She entered in front of everyone, including Christopher who grinned gratefully at his friend. Armelle returned the smile.

She passed the bowls out, giving the bowl with the strand of hair to the Christopher's father, the king. As she was leaving for the kitchen, she saw in the corner of her vision the king scooping up broth with his spoon. There lay the strand of hair on the spoon.

Lucille saw it too.

But neither of them saw it dissolve the moment it touched the king's lips.

When they reached the kitchen, Lucille shook Armelle violently. "Your hair-! That was my chance!! Now he'll fire me! There's no doubt!!" Lucille leaned against the counter and cried.

Another servant poked their head in. "Lucille, His Majesty would like to see you and your apprentice."

Lucille followed, whimpering.

Armelle was scared. She knew this was her fault, and now poor Lucille was drowning herself in tears.

When the king saw the two, he said, "Ladies, I must tell you..."

Lucille sniffed sharply.

"That was by far the best soup I've ever tasted! Well done! Lucille, you may leave now."

Lucille stood frozen for a moment, whooped in delight and scurried away, happy as a clam.

"Armelle, I have a question."

Armelle stepped forward. "Yes, your Majesty."

"Come here." The king gestured for her to lean in.

"Are you sure you are not a princess?"

What should I say?

Armelle shook her head. "All I'm good for is to have tomatoes thrown at me, sire."

After all, it is true...

The king nodded, "I'm sorry to hear that. Very well. You may be dismissed. Thank you for dinner."

Armelle sighed in relief as she walked back to her room. First ball down.