The night progressed in a series of strange events. Giselle had arrive not long after Killian’s, father’s speech, wearing a purple dress with raven features, as if to state her claim on him, and their love. Killian watched the look his father took on when realization dawned on him, it was sheer horror. And for most of the night he made sure to steer clear of her, no matter what repercussions it may hold for him. He would rather keep her alive and safe, that have her upset with him.
The time was nearing midnight, and speaking for all of the guests there, the air grew tight with anticipation. Some had even dared to make a scene claiming the arrogance of his father’s ways, for believe mere humans could stick to their word. Taking in a deep breath, Killian busied himself trying to steady his nerves. What would he do in a world without Giselle, he thought. Loving her had been the only thing he’d known for so long, that even thinking he could possibly feel anything for anyone else seemed implausible.
“There you are,” a familiar voice said. Giselle, her name sang in his head. Her arms weaving their way around his waist, in a way that brought a heat to his cheeks. This was not appropriate behavior. “I’ve missed you.”
“Giselle, please.” Killian said. Taking her arms and returning them to her side. All the while avoiding the look he knew she was wearing. “Honestly, what if my father saw?”
“Then he would have me bound, and whipped for treason.” She said, smiling sweetly. Her words teasing him as his mind raced with thoughts of her allowing anyone to bind her, let alone with a whip.
“You’re forgetting yourself tonight.” Killian said, his own words cruel, and he left her staring open-mouthed after him. As he went in search for his father. “Ahem,” he said once amidst the sea of people swarming their King. “Father, a word?”
The King apologized for his son’s rude behavior, and together they strode to their seats. “How rude you have become, my son.” The King smiled, and waved to his adoring guests. “What is it you want?”
Killian had just been about to ask how much longer his father was willing to let the humans make a mockery of him, and his son. When a voice broke through the room silencing it. “Announcing Rielle Harrison, and her most dutiful parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison.” You could hear a pin drop, he thought.
Rising from his seat, the King stormed through the ballroom. The room full of guest parting like the red sea, until he found what he was looking for. “My Lady,” The King said, his eyes trailing the mother, Neoma, before falling to rest on her daughter. Standing before him in a vision of olive green, stood a girl with similar features. With long blonde hair, like gold, falling in a cascade of tendrils down her back, and stark green eyes. He couldn't have imagine a more beautiful girl if he was asked. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear. Come, let us introduce you to our son.”
The room itself was grand, much like the rest of the house had been, the King, a perfect image to her mother’s descriptions of him. Rielle had awoke this morning with the foreboding sense of change but, as she walks hand in hand with the King himself. Even she could not have foreseen all of this. Around her voices trailed in a way that made her feel small. Dukes, and Duchesses, all pining to get a closer look at the girl who held the key to their victory. Victory, she tasted the word, and found it silly. Behind her she could feel her father’s disapproval, as they clung to the far wall of the room waiting to be called upon. “You smell wonderful, my dear.” The King smiled at her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky and uneven. She was ill-equipped in the proper ways of speaking to a King. Minutes later, they reared the end of the room, where the chandelier hung casting tiny crystal-like shapes along the floor. The King released her in that instance, and left her there.
Closing her eyes, she tried to muster as much courage as she could before a sudden shift in the air caught her off guard. When she opened her eyes she was met with the icy azure ones who had lead her here, except they were different. More alive with youth than the other had been, and with them stood a man molded in the image of his father, and she knew immediately she was staring into the eyes of her destiny.