Castle Story

The One And Only Part

Yay, another fairy tale like story! It's terrible, but it's here!   

Warning: Unedited 

     Persephone knew her mission, but despite days of pondering she had zero plan. Getting in would be easy, of course. She was, after all, Queen Persephone, ruler of the kingdom of Lurin, one of only six females of nobility eligible for marriage attending Prince Gansey's ball, of course getting in was easy. She hardly believed that with the turnout they would be allowed to refuse her entry. But the rest of her mission, yes, that was much more difficult. She had no idea how she was supposed to keep the prince away from Princess Danielle, one of the other maidens, throughout the whole evening. Though, in theory, it wouldn't be too hard. The prince's home wasn't called the castle of solitude because he was known for his love of social interaction. But Persephone couldn't help but resent the fact that after all the training she had gone through, which her advisers were well aware of as they were the people who had objected it in the first place, they had still sent her out to ruin relationships, not something worthwhile like stopping thieves.

Not that this mission wasn't worthwhile, no, not at all. If she failed the results would be catastrophic for her kingdom. The marriage of Princess Danielle and Prince Gansey would destroy any hopes her kingdom had of rebuilding their economy after the one hundred year truce was signed. Persephone's advisers had briefly broached the subject of how good their economy would be if she were the one to win Gansey's heart, marry him and open the pathway to him becoming King (officially) of his small but wealthy kingdom, but she refused to do it. Persephone believed she had no need for love, and had come to the conclusion she would never pursue it because of that. So they had given her this mission with zero plan offered, and sent her off to the castle of solitude in the best dress their limited financial resources could buy. So here Persephone was, in an aquamarine gown decorated with stuck on fabric flowers that sparkled in the moonlight, about to offer her gloved hand to a dashingly dressed footman. She had no idea what she was doing besides the fact she was making sure this ball didn't turn into a Cinderella story. In her last few minutes in her carriage that was noticeably more dull than the rest, she tried desperately to come up with something despite the fact her ginger hair was pulled up in such a way it made it hard to think.

With a deep breath, Persephone took the footman's hand and allowed him to help her out as she tried to find her footing in her heels. Once she was out she took the care to brush off her dress, as if she actually cared about the cursed garment, before making an attempt to walk towards the left staircase. Thankfully, she was neither the last nor the first person to arrive, both of which drew far too much attention, and even saw a few faces she recognized, though none that she liked. She politely waved to the Duke of Sevilade and his wife as they made their way up the opposite staircase. They waved back with a smile before looking away from her with looks of hidden disgust. The carriage next to hers, a hideous sparkling orange, clearly belonged to one of the other maidens, Queen Maura, who could be seen touching up her hair through the window. As Persephone absolutely hated Maura for multiple reasons, she quickly made her way up the stairs before an argument could start. Persephone ascended the stairs slowly, making it look like she was just graceful, but actually doing so as to not fall over. Walking in heels had never been her strong suit, she much preferred sword fights. When she reached the top, Persephone took a moment to look back on the circular drive, and she was glad she did. If she hadn't she wouldn't have gotten to see a pitch black carriage pull around the corner. A carriage that could only belong to one person, the man who killed her father. She stayed like that, stick straight and stunned, for several minutes as the carriage that blended into the darkness rolled to a stop. Queen Maura still hadn't left her carriage. Persephone stared at the pitch black one, until her eyes met its owner, Ronan Dragon. Rule 39 of the 100-year truce stated that they couldn't hold any grudges against each other about the events of the war, and it was a rule Persephone knew she could never follow. She would never forgive the dragon for what he had done. Persephone held his gaze for a few moments more, wanting him to recognize her, wanting to know that her father's death didn't blur together with everyone else the greatest swordsman of his generation had killed in the battles. She was so focused on his presence here, she didn't even stop to wonder why it was. Ronan had no reason to be here, nothing to gain from this ball, so why was he here? Persephone broke eye contact with the warrior and turned so abruptly one of cheaply pasted on flowers flew off her dress. She stared at it for a second, before picking it up and tucking it behind her ear. Facing the doorway, Persephone sighed and went into battle, also known as the ballroom.