Delia

Artrix Snow looked herself over in the mirror from head to toe. This was the night she'd been waiting for, for months. She'd saved all her money, and scraped together every last bit she could to afford this outfit. So she could go to Prince Nathaniel's masked ball. She'd been living in his lands for three years, and had watched, every year, from her balcony, as the castle light up beautifully for his ball. She'd dreamed of going, and everyone, including commoners like herself were invited, but she'd never had the money.

This year was different. Her little sister, realizing how horribly Willa's heart ached every year when she saw the streets filled with masked beauties, headed for that fantasic night, had saved up small stashes of money. Three months ago, she'd given it to her, and Artrix had nearly cried on the spot. She didn't want to take her sisters hard-saved money, and told her that she could go instead, but she'd insisted, so she agreed, and helped save for the last three months.

Now she stood, on the night of the mask, a commoner, dressed as a queen. Her gown was white, and made her feel like royalty when she spun, layers floating out around her like a white, lace cloud. Her long hair hung in glossy blond ringlets down to the small of her back, the top half of it was pulled back loosely, and two little spirals hung from her temples, gently grazing her neck. Throughout her hair, her sister had studiously worked to pin lavender orchids frosted with glitter in seemingly random places, all the way down to the very end. They gave off a sweet scent as she moved about.

Willa had a knack for the unusual, and unique and, as such, her mask was not the typical masquerade mask. Often, a mask was fashioned after a certain animal, and your dress and various props matched. Her sister had told her she should go as a butterfly, so, instead of a true mask, she'd painted frosty white glitter around her eyes, along her cheekbones, and up onto her forehead in the curling arcs of a butterfly's wings. Small imitation diamonds, that glittered like the real thing, were glued to her skin, following the arches of her browbones, just under her eyebrows. The mask was truly a work of art, looking like frosty ice, glittering in the light every time she moved her head or smiled.

"I'm ready." She whispered to her sister. "Lock the door." Winni kissed the girl she'd all but raised herself on the forehead and left the house, climbing into the carriage that would take her to the mask.

She glanced at the large, ornate clock on the castle wall as she stepped out of the carriage. She was more than an hour late, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was here. Finally at the ball. As she entered the castle and made her way down the hall, she could not help but feel intimidated by the huge ceilings and maze of corridors, making her feel very small, like a mouse distracted by a piece of cheese while, meanwhile, the trap waits to spring.

But that feeling was erased as soon as she reached the ballroom. Around her, a world of fantasy exploded, and she made her way slowly towards the dancefloor, taking in all the fantastic sights, sounds, and smells surrounding her. At the edge of the floor, she was whisked, without even realizing it, into a dace, twirling and spinning in the arms of a man she didn't know. "I come to the Prince's mask's every year." The man said, trying to make conversation as he spun her. "Though I don't think you have even once. Surely I would have noticed such a ravishing creature."

She simply looked at him, taking in his small gold mask, only covering one of his brown eyes. "No." She said simply, spinning again. "I haven't come, this is my first year."

"Well," he said, eyes daring as he pulled her closer. "Let's make it a good one."

Standing in the far corner of the ballroom, wearing a midnight black, nicely tailored suit was Prince Nathaniel himself. He stood with his shoulders back and his head held high, liquid silver gaze intent on the dance floor before him. Lazily in his right hand, between his index and middle finger, rested a wine glass. Within said glass was red wine cleverly laced with blood, AB positive, naturally. He lifted the glass to full lips, the left side of his mouth curving into a lions grin as liquid, slightly tainted with an irony taste, met his tongue.

Four hundred years. Four hundred years of the same exact thing; a masked ball. The people of his kingdom came, though he enjoyed their praise, they danced, ate, laughed, and then went home. It never failed that Nathaniel came up empty-handed with no blood bond in tow. Instead, he spent a tedious, boring night with a woman he hurried from his bed chambers the very next morning quickly. They all seemed too easy, speaking of the same thing. Love, marriage, a future together. Disgusting. This year was no different. He could hear and distinctively pick out every conversation in that very room, even outside his castle. The rumors were still going around, swirling around the ballroom along with the dancers.

"Prince Nathaniel is actually a vampire. He is the prince the legend speaks of. The prince and that witch!"

Witch. The Prince had to keep himself from snickering aloud. Edelia rarely crossed his mind nowadays, but when she did the thoughts were not necessarily pleasant. He resented her with every single fiber of his vampiric being. He was almost drug back into his past. Almost.
A dainty, pale hand that teasingly fell on his left arm, tugging at his jacket sleeve, broke him from his trance. Nathaniel's gaze fell and met the wide, green eyes of a frizzy-haired red head. Most likely she was admiring his crimson red mask that only covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose. It was a simple piece this year, but the material it was made of screamed pure wealth. However, it did not take her long to return to staring at his eyes. His seemingly deep, liquid silver eyes that people claimed drew you in helplessly. He waited for the woman to speak, introduce herself though he already knew her name, knew who she was, even her history.

"Prince Nathaniel," she breathed airily, eyelids fluttering gently in exaggerated blinks. A grin crossed Nathaniel's lips, his signature grin, both wicked and charming at the same time. She went on. "My name is Gloria. I moved here a few months ago, and haven't got to formally introduce myself, I. . ."

The Prince stopped listening after that, something suddenly catching his interest. Outside the ballroom and down the hall the castle's heavy, oaken doors opened and with it a gentle breeze. That breeze swiftly moved throughout the castle, and with it it brought a scent. A sickly sweet scent that stirred something inside of Nathaniel. His silver gaze snapped to the entrance of the ballroom. Slow seconds ticked by. The maiden, Gloria, kept talking about how she moved from the neighboring kingdom to the west of Delia. She was now fidgeting and looking in different directions, not noticing the prince was not paying the slightest attention to her.

Nathaniel quirked a single brow when a beautiful woman, for a mortal, strolled into the ballroom. She looked just barely unsure of herself, but her eyes widened as she took in sight of the room. She'd never came before, he decided, dumbfounded; he had no idea who this girl was. Yet, didn't he know everyone who lived within the boundaries of his kingdom?
He looked back down at Gloria, a smirking dancing along his lips. He did not hear much of what she had said, but now held her gaze once more. She did not looked away, though she was visibly trembling as the prince reached forward, and grasped her left, gloved hand. "Gloria," he murmured, bringing her hand up and kissing it softly, letting his lips linger, all the while eyes never leaving hers. Her breath had quickened and so had her heartbeat. "It is a pleasure having you here tonight. Please, enjoy yourself, love." And with that he turned, placed his wine glass on the table behind himself, and was gone, having vanished between dancing, twirling bodies, leaving the young, red haired maiden in awe, staring after him with longing.

Now he was aware of it. Moving closer to the mysterious, golden haired woman, he was aware of the smell- her blood. It smelt sweet and was strong, rattling something inside of Nathaniel, a longing of his own. Women stared as he slid past them gracefully, eyes combing the crowd, searching for the girl.
The found her being whisked along the floor by a tall man he recognized, seeing him at the ball every year for the past five. The man was a blacksmith but nothing grand. The prince portrayed no emotion, moving closer as the music playing slowly came to an end. That's when Nathaniel moved in.

In a swift movement he grabbed the woman's hand from the man's side smoothly, spinning her into his arms in a gentle motion. Another band of music began to play, elegant and low. The blacksmith simply stood there with empty arms, baffled as he stared after Nathaniel and the beautiful maiden. Gazing into her eyes, Nathaniel was struck; this had to be her, his bond. He spun her across the floor, twirling her out before bringing her back, close against him. "Forgive me for how rude I was back there, stealing you away from the man who is courting you." He knew she came alone, already starting to prodded. He kept his gaze intently on her icy eyes with his silver ones.

The song was winding down to an end, and Artrix was eager to get away from the man holding her, hovering uncomfortably close, hand resting a little to low to be merely friendly. She was almost excited to get off the dacefloor, and maybe send the man for some wine before strolling off on her own through the gardens.

But that's not exactly what happened. As the song ended, she felt a hand wrap around her fingers firmly, but gently and suddenly, she twirled softly into someone else's arms. The man looked upset, and Willa gave him a small wave goodbye, grateful to be rid of him. The music started again, this time lower and smoother, and she looked up at her savior. When she saw him, she couldn't help gasp lightly under her breath. It was the prince himself. Dancing with her, of all people. However, unlike most women, she wasn't overjoyed, and falling all over herself for his attention. In fact, she felt a little frightened, even though on the outside, she was cool and calm. She knew his reputation with women, and she had heard the stories about him.

He looked down into her eyes with his own, silver and swirling, a devilish grin on his lips. Something about his beautiful eyes made her uncomfortable. The way they were focused on her, with such intensity, she felt exposed and vunerable. She glanced at the women around her, staring at her with envy in their eyes.

Did other women like this feeling? She looked back into his eyes and felt it again. That feeling, like she might as well be standing before him naked with a book of her past and darkest secrets lying open for him to read. It was frustrating and mesmorizing at the same time. They spun across the floor, not speaking until he pulled her close.

"Forgive me for how rude I was back there, stealing you away from the man who is courting you." Just the sound of his voice triggered alarms in her mind, because even it was beautiful and perfect. This is a man I need to be careful with. She thought to herself, mentally deciding she would refuse him in any way possible. The powerful, arrogant, good-looking men always caused the most trouble. She allowed herself to flirt and laugh with the lesser-types, but men like the Prince were not to be toyed with. She'd made the mistake of falling for someone like him once, and was never going back.

All these thoughts coursed through her at once, while, on the outside, she merely smiled her prettiest smile up at the Prince and shook her head gently. "I don't even know his name. I came alone." She answered, working her hardest not to stutter under the intensity of his eyes. Why did women like this? The feeling she'd had when she'd first been walking through the castle was back. There was something glorious about the moment, making her want to grasp it hard and never let go, but there was also something unsettling, like she'd just walked into something she had no control of.

Though Nathaniel had prepared himself for this moment years ago, he wasn't exactly sure what he would be dealt with. Instead of starting to immediately swoon, this dazzling woman before him stayed calm and collected; besides the gentle gasp she gave beneath her breath that the mere mortal was not suppose to hear. Nonetheless it caused his grin to become more pronounced, exposing dimples that left his masculine face looking rather boyish. He took a deep, unneeded breath, taking in her scent that caused a light burning sensation to tingle down his throat; he hadn't felt the sting of blood lust in ages. It startled him but he did not portray such a thing on his face, remaining stoic once his grin slowly faded.

He spun the young woman once more before bringing her back in. This was his blood bond most definitely. Time to be a good boy. he thought sarcastically, keeping his hands at a respectable level; his left hand lightly at her waist, his right hand gently grasping her left as they moved across the ballroom floor as if they were floating. The Prince wondered if his gaze was starting to get to her yet. He finally broke eye contact just briefly to admire her mask, if that is what you would call it. It was a work of art, and Nathaniel decided it had to have been done by an expert hand. It looked as if frosty ice had settled upon her delicate face, and the diamonds, though clearly the prince could tell they were imitation, pulled everything together nicely.
He met her gaze once more, and when she smiled he simply raised both his eyebrows. Her actions were so nonchalant, easy, it was truly surprising, and that smile of hers was lovely, though he would not admit it to himself.

"I don't even know his name. I came alone." Nathaniel let an expression cross his features to portray the false emotion of "shock."

"Really?" he asked curiously, gazing round the ballroom for only a split moment. "Mmm. . .I'm sure any guy in here would love you have you on his arm." Prince Nathaniel commented, exposing straight white teeth in a dazzling smile. "If you don't mind me asking," he went on, twirling her out once more elegantly, then bringing her back in, grinning wickedly as the movement fanned the sweet scent of her blood. "What is your name? I don't remember ever seeing you out, and being the prince, I should know such things." he teased softly, gaze falling intently on her icy, blue eyes once again.

Willa watched his eyebrows raise and resisted the urge to raise on of her own. Clearly he wasn't used to women acting calm around him. And here she had been, praying that he couldn't hear the furious pounding of her heart against her ribs everytime his eyes met hers. Despite his reputation, the Prince was charming, spinning her gently, keeping his hands in the right places, and smiling in a way that seemed both inviting and wicked at the same time.

"Really?" He said, breaking eye-contact to glance around. "Mmm... I'm sure any guy in here would love you have you on his arm." She smiled lightly. She was used to being called beautiful, and usually hated it, however, it was not every night a prince said it.

"Oh I doubt that." She said rather bluntly. "Men don't usually like a woman who speaks her mind." Her eyes met his, figuring that he was the type of man who didn't care what type of woman she was, so long as she was a woman. At least for one night, before he threw her away. It was how his kind worked. She was all too familiar with it.

"If you don't mind me asking," he went on smoothly, twirling her again gently, and using that mixed-signals grin again. She was having a hard time reading him and it both frustrated and excited her. "What is your name? I don't remember ever seeing you out, and being the prince, I should know such things."

At this she smiled with a gentle nod, thinking silently what name she should give him. What if he liked her too much, or wanted her for later and decided to call on her? Should she give him her real name, or one of her nicknames? Was he to be trusted? "No, you wouldn't have, Prince." She said with a slight shrug. "My sister and I just moved here a few years ago and I don't get much time out. I'm usually giving painting lessons or selling my flowers, while she's the one who runs most of the errands around town." He might as well know she was a commoner. She didn't see any point in hiding it, and maybe it would keep him from trying to chase her for however short a time he was interested. Seeing as he now knew that, she figured there wasn't much harm in giving her real name.

"My name is Artrix Snow." She said, doing her best to gaze as intently into his eyes as he was into hers, showing him she wasn't intimidated. "I go by my the first of my two middle names most often though. Willow, or Willa for short." She smiled as the music wound down and the song stopped and yet, they still stood there in the dancefloor.

She glanced around her, wondering if she should do as she was going to with the other man, send him for wine, and slip off on her own. However, he was a Prince, and she had a feeling he would find her regardless. Around them, people were gaily drinking and laughing, the clock struck midnight, and she sighed, almost sad that the event would end in a few short hours.

The musicians were getting set up for another song, and she glanced at the Prince. "Another song or no?" She asked, wondering if he'd rather walk in the gardens, or even just leave her, put off by her refusal to swoon as he was so used to.