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The glittering assembly of people in front of you was quite boring, if you had anything to say about the matter. The fancy ball gowns and masks with the addition of fake attitudes did nothing to make you more interested in joining the “fun” of waltzing and talking with the others - even if the whole purpose of you being here had to with just that (as your parents insisted on attending to find someone suitable to be betrothed to, even if it wasn’t the prince most had set their eyes on).
It could obviously be seen by your sentiment though, that you didn’t care much for the idea. The dress was itchy and heavy, and the mask that sat over your eyes didn’t hide your furrowed eyebrows or pouty lips. And besides, it was more fun to hang out in the back of the large hall, in your opinion. Being able to see everyone’s façade break as soon as they believed no one else could see them was liberating, almost.
From there, you could watch as the glittering faces and diamonds slumped when they turned the corner, or the way frowns appeared heavy as soon as the other’s back was turned. You could watch the scoldings mothers were giving their daughters for acting against their wishes, talking to someone they shouldn’t have, for acting too “unenthusiastic”. It was amusing to think about - your parents would’ve been doing the same if they weren’t kissing up to the ass of some noble at the moment.
There were others though, who wore keen smirks and smiles under the masks they wore, and you simply watched as their predatory jaws gripped young maidens with their charm as they lured them out of the ballroom. Even if the drinks those girls were given had been tampered with much before their meetings and they had no remembrance of the occurances of the night, they would still be blamed for their stupidity and “uncleanliness”.
The night went a bit faster against that wall. Sneers and scoffs were the only company given at times, accompanied by huffs of disgust and disappointed glances. To you though, it was much better than having to plaster on the fakest smile you could muster and allow some stranger to rest their hands over your waist while their hot breath fanned on your neck in the name of “waltzing”. To anyone else, they might have chosen the second option. The first was more than easy to ignore, however, and it wasn’t anything you’d never experienced before.
The nobles weren’t happy that the likes of you had somehow ended up at an event that was as exclusive as this. You didn’t belong here. And it was stupid in a way, but you agreed with them.
The world of fake laughs, pretty smiles, and lavishness wasn’t the life you wanted.
You were content being the daughter of the baker, and the simple life that came easily with it.
“You look quite sad standing here alone,” a voice spoke up.
You were torn away from your gaze to glance at the stranger who’d settled themselves at the wall next to you, and the almost cheesy smile that he adorned on his lips. It should’ve been kind, you thought, but it wasn’t giving you that impression as much as it should have.
“I’m quite fine, thank you very much,” you responded, crossing your arms over your chest.
A boyish chuckle came out, and you finally took the opportunity to observe the man standing next to you. His eyes were turquoise under his white mask, set to pair with his perfectly tailored suit and jacket, which fit his body carefully - wrapping around his toned abdomen and arms like a glove. That, along with the carefully selected fabrics that adorned his outfit told you he was someone of high status - probably a close friend of the king and queen. But what was currently throwing you off was the way his hair was messily tied to the back of his head in a bun, something that didn’t seem to fit the theme that all the other noble men had gone through with - either slicked back or styled.
It was quite odd to see the way he blended in with the crowd so perfectly yet stood out widely at the same time. That much piqued your interest, but you had no real desire in discussing anything with him. He seemed the bothersome type - cheeky and confident - maybe in ways that should be avoided in most situations.
“May I ask why you find this wall more appealing than the rest of this party?” the stranger spoke again. “You’re the only one I’ve seen with the expression you're wearing - distaste is it?”
“If you’ve been a part of these circles as long as I have, you’d understand,” you sighed. “If you stand here for even less than five minutes, you’d see the masks that everyone adorns on their faces be ripped off without a second thought. It’s quite amusing, if you ask me. I like the idea of everyone having a real persona underneath their fake facade.”
“And the pout?” he asked once more.
“General distaste.”
“Ah.”
This conversation was already much different than what you’d originally thought it to be. You’d thought he would’ve come and immediately asked for your hand in a dance, or offered you a fluke of champagne you would’ve needed to quickly decline before getting away quickly.
And even when you’d explained your mask theory in an almost rude tone, he did nothing to try and correct it or tell you a lady must hold her tongue from speaking of such manners. That much was as surprising as the first fact.
“I understand your sentiment well,” he continued. “I’ve always felt the same way about this high society. I wear a mask as the rest of these people do - I cannot lie. But I suppose my reasoning for doing so has to do with the freedoms my family restricts, and not the desire to wear it.”
“I should supposedly be doing the same as well,” you nodded at his words. “My only purpose at the moment is to grasp someone within my clutches so my family can send me off to marry them.”
He gave you an odd look under the mask - perhaps at your distinct wording - as he turned to face you more slightly.
“Thankfully, they’re sucking up to the queen at the moment. God knows when they’re done, however, I’ll be forced to join the party,” you finished, ignoring the side-stare he was now giving you.
It was silent once more, or silent between the two of you - that is. It’s generally hard to have a quiet room when filled with dances and people fake laughing at jokes that really weren’t all that funny. But once again, the man surprised you with his words.
“I have to say: I highly doubt that you’ll have to ‘grasp someone in your clutches ’. It seems to me that there’d be lines of men waiting to marry you.”
You let out a choked laugh, stifling yourself when you caught the attention of some nobles standing nearby who gave you a funny look.
“What makes you think that?” you looked at the man incredulously.
“Well,” he continued. “I, at least, find the way you speak refreshing. It’s a nice change of pace to meet someone who isn’t concerned with others’ opinions of them. I find it quite an admirable quality actually.”
“You must be the only one who thinks that,” you pointed out. “I highly doubt the other men here would agree with you - they’d prefer for me not to think at all.”
“Well I’d say those who believe that, and pardon my language, are fuckers - and should be treated as such.”
You giggled at his use of profanity, watching as he did the same before finishing off the fluke of champagne he still held.
“I think it’s only fitting that I ask you for a dance,” he spoke once more. “I did just crack a part of my mask in order to swear in front of you.”
“I suppose that if I were anyone else, I would’ve slapped you for swearing in my presence,” you reminded yourself.
He was still staring at you with his cheeky smile, but you could almost see the normalness underneath them - stuck in his turquoise eyes under his embellished mask. He was genuine - at least by what you could tell - about his wants.
“Fine,” you sighed, and the smile he wore grew wider as he reached his hand out towards you. “But you must know it’s only because my parents are done talking to the royalty, and if they come back to see me standing alone, they’ll force me to dance with someone else anyways.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he remarked.
You reached for his hand, noticing that the piece that had just been playing ended - at seemingly the perfect time while he guided you towards the center of the room. Perhaps you were too dazed to notice the way the crowd began parting for the two of you to pass through to the middle of the dance floor, the warmth of his hand over your others and the other guiding your waist had you distracted enough.
The center of the dance floor held a chandelier, once that twinkled behind the man as he positioned you in his grasp, placing his hands over your waist in the softest way possible so as to not disturb you.
“I must confess,” you whispered. “I don’t dance often.”
“Just follow my lead,” he smiled as the orchestra began.
With his hands secured around your waist, and yours over his shoulders, you felt as he began swaying in time to the orchestra - making sure to direct you where to go with the tiny movements of his thumb on your side. The beat was slow and steady at first, while the strings added their embellishments to the steady sound.
Maybe it was that you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him earlier, but now under the twinkling chandelier, it seemed like he’d been made for this sort of assembly. The glittering mask he wore, though covering a majority of his face, left room for the seemingly cheeky smile on his lips and the way his turquoise eyes remained focused on you as you danced.
“You seem to be enjoying the view,” he stated easily.
It was with those words that you noticed how the feeling of his hands against your waist became stronger, more protective.
“Your mask is pretty,” you rolled your eyes. “No need to build an ego.”
He chuckled, forcing you to relax your arms over his shoulder to remain somewhat comfortable.
“I never said it was me you were looking at,” he teased. “But I have to say that your mask looks beautiful as well - though I doubt it compares to the face hiding underneath.”
You quickly rolled your eyes once more - shaking your head at his words.
“Just because I dislike the masks people wear doesn’t mean I want to show you my face. I doubt you’d continue your foolish chase if you knew who I was.”
“I heavily disagree,” he mused. “Who are you to judge my character, when we’ve barely just met?”
“I would say I’ve figured out much about you.”
“Is that so?” his eyebrow raised. “What exactly have you figured out about me?”
“For starters, you are most definitely the son of a noble - a higher up one to be exact. Perhaps the King’s right hand or something of the sort. Another is that your deeply unhappy with this position-”
“That’s all obvious,” he hummed. “That information is quite easy to deter from our conversation on the back wall.”
“Let me finish,” you interrupted him. “The fact that I’m not interested in you is puzzling. You've had women wrapped around your fingers ever since you were younger - always ready at your beck and call to please you. And though you’ve never preferred them much, you kept up the act” the cheeky smirk, the boyish form of charm. Everyone sees that form as the real you, when in reality that’s the mask you wear. And perhaps you did at one point act like this genuinely, but at this point it’s cracking as you’ve realized how hard it will be to maintain,” you finished - just in time for the waltz to end with you off his arm.
He seemed genuinely amazed by your words, his eyes wide under the mask as he stared at you. He didn’t stop when the two of you bowed towards each other - only ready to attack you with questions before you spoke once more.
“How did I do?” you smirked, and he recognized the smile you were giving him. It was the one he had been giving you.
“How were you-” he spoke breathlessly, trying to lead you back to the sidelines so he could continue the conversation. “I don’t understand how you-”
“Eren!”
The both of you turned to see another man with a mask and bright blonde hair forcing himself through the crowd to get to the both of you.
“What, Armin?” he sighed tiredly. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” he gestured to your hand in his elbow.
“Sorry, but your father asked for you,” Armin replied sheepishly. “He said he wanted to introduce you to some princess.”
Princess? Why would he have to meet some-
It was only then that his name clicked in your mind with familiarity.
That means this is.. Prince Eren.
I danced with him?!
You turned to him with a newfound expression, which he didn’t have much time to reply to. He gave you an apologetic look while Armin began leading him elsewhere.
“I’m sorry!” he called out behind him. “I’ll be back though, I promise! Just stay there!”
You only stared after him, not even knowing what to think about what’d just happened. You basically just insulted the prince, the crown jewel to the country, right to his face.
Me and my big stupid mouth .
Of course you believed in genuity, it was important to you. But even with that mindset, there was a hierarchy of people in the society you lived in - with you towards the bottom. It wasn’t a good thing to violate, especially with someone of such high power and prestige. But even still, you wanted to talk to him again.
And yet, despite his promise, you didn’t see him after he ran off with his friend. A part of you knew it would happen - he was the prince, after all.
So once your parents finally approached you to go home, you only nodded and followed after them - taking one look at the crowded ballroom trying to spot him one last time. But when you didn’t, you sighed in defeat and headed home.
You wanted to apologize to him, for speaking so crudely - but a few days had already passed and you knew there was no seeing him again. Your parents only confirmed this idea when they told you about his father’s intentions to have him married to the Princess of Éthros (as they’d supposedly heard from the king himself).
Which meant when there came a set of knocks from the front door, you didn’t think much of it as your mother called out for you to answer it. You only rolled your eyes and slumped over as you trudged to the door - and then surprised when you were met with the Prince himself.
“Hi,” he smiled warmly, which you couldn’t really respond to because of how awestruck you were - seeing him standing there like it was just a normal Thursday afternoon with nothing better to do.
“Who’s there?” your mother called out.
“Uhh…” you droned out, watching as Eren immediately made a symbol cutting off his head - telling you not to speak about it.
“Just a friend of mine..” you called back to her.
“Tell ‘em you’re busy! We have work to do!”
“It’ll only take a minute!” you called back quickly - waving Eren outside so you could also step out and close the door behind you.
Why did he come here? Did I offend him that badly?
You swallowed nervously, fidgeting under his gaze before asking, “What are you doing here?”
“You left..” he pointed out. “I was gonna come back eventually. Princess whatever-her-name-was didn’t leave me alone.”
“It’s alright,” you pardoned. “You didn’t have to go through the effort of finding me to apologize.”
“But I did,” he persisted, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure this makes much sense, but I haven’t been able to remove you from my mind since that night. I don't think you realize how much effort I had to put into finding you again - I had to speak with you once more.”
“Well, now you know who I am - as I know who you are,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I don't know what else you needed from me besides that.”
“I know who you are, but I don’t know who you are. You were able to discern me from a single conversation, yet you barely gave me anything about yourself besides the fact that you had overbearing parents,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I find it quite unfair that you were able to figure me out with such ease while I was left with nothing.”
“I don’t-”
“Don’t start with that,” he shook his head. “Your social status doesn’t matter to me, you should know that already. I just want to meet you for tea.”
“Tea?” you raised your eyebrows at him.
“Tea,” he replied.
You paused as you thought over his offer. You’d been thinking about him since the night of the party, just as he’d said he felt about you. But, how would you know if he was being serious about his intentions? This wasn’t something that could be discerned easily.
“I already know what you’re thinking,” Eren spoke once more. “So let me offer what I know of you: life hasn’t been the kindest to you with the way it’s treated you - that’s why you overthink and see the negatives of every situation. At the ball, you were only focused on the hypothetical motives for people’s actions, not their actual ones. It’s a response to your thoughts never becoming a reality, and you implement that negativity onto others,” he paused. “But what I’m trying to tell you is that there is so much life and beauty you couldn’t see in that ball. And with the way you called me out on my mask, I want to call you out on this.”
“Fine,” you sighed, shaking your head at the way he’d figured you out. “We can have tea.”