The Cinderella Conscript (Junna&SFS)

[Junnabee]

@ShyFilthySmut
The Cinderella Conscript

Character

Briella Ann Russell
19

Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a tiny kingdom, peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition. Here in a stately chateau, there lived a widowed gentleman and his little daughter, Cinderella.

Although he was a kind and devoted father and gave his beloved child every luxury and comfort, still he felt she needed a mother's care. And so he married again, choosing for his second wife a woman of good family with two daughters just Cinderella's age, by the name, Anastasia, and Drizella. It was upon the untimely death of this good man, however, that the stepmother's true nature was revealed. Cold, cruel, and bitterly jealous of Cinderella's charm and beauty, she was grimly determined to forward the interests of her own two awkward daughters.

Thus, as time went by, the chateau fell into disrepair, for the family fortunes were squandered upon the vain and selfish stepsisters while Cinderella was abused, humiliated, and finally forced to become a servant in her own house. And yet, through it all, Cinderella remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn she found new hope that someday, her dreams of happiness would come true.​

Briella's mother, Ellina had loved the story. It wasn't really surprising, most people in this day and age loved the age-old tale. It was something that gave the people hope and even more so bore a tradition that almost every young woman looked forward to. Almost all of them. And Ellina, as previously mentioned, was one of those girls who grew up on tales of Cinderella, dreaming of her chance. Mind, Ellina never was chosen, most girls aren't, but it was not the end of her fairytale.

Ellina ended up meeting a very sweet man two years after her shot at the Cinderella's Ball. He had been a simple enough man, a writer at heart and from a long line of tailors. He wasn't all that well off when Ellina had married him, but he shortly became published and their fortune, while modest, was still more than the average villager could hope to dream of. Despite all this, the young couple lived comfortably below their means and were quite happy with a lifetime of joyful mediocrity. If you were to ask them, they would have told you they would not want to waste their good fortune when they were already living such a wonderful dream in each other's arms. It was all very sweet.

This is why no one was surprised when they were expecting a little bundle of joy very early on in their relationship. When Briella was born, Ellina named her after the namesake of her favorite story. Surely the 'Ella' would help her have her own happily ever after. Unfortunately, giving birth to Briella was tasking on Ellina's immune system, and she fell ill in the year that followed. Most of the family's money went into cures and comforts, but nothing could be done... Ellina did not make it through the winter.

Briella's father, as people say, went a bit mad with grief. He wasn't a bad father, per se, and Briella loved him dearly. But mentally, he had been... less than present. Emotional, less than available. Briella learned to live with it, she made herself all the stronger for it. The way she had seen it, he was allowed to mourn however he would like and she would help however she could. It was only right. She was, after all, his only child.

To be completely honest, it had taken her years to understand. When she was much younger she had adored her father, and he had loved her. However, as she aged, she learned more and more of his faults. She learned that he wasn't all there. She learned that having him love her one day and weep at the sight of her the next wasn't normal. She learned to smile even when she felt sad. For her father. He was a mess and she would always love him, but she had learned when it came to taking care of each other she would have to be the adult.

This is why when Briella realized the ball was coming she was filled with dread. She loathed the idea of it. In the months leading up to the ball, her father had grown more and more distant as he did with his bad days. Days he spent out of it and mourning the loss of his wife and daughter - as if some nobleman had already taken her away during a ball that had yet to even happen. She knew he worried that she wouldn't come back and all he had left would be gone. She couldn't blame him for being nervous... but she couldn't help but feel as if he was worrying for nothing.

Briella had no real interest in marrying into a higher status. She had no interest in being married at all, in fact! She lived a life of working with her hands and caring for her mentally ailing father. A husband would only get in the way. She would be expected to make time for someone else when she barely had enough time for herself as it was. It wasn't as if she was unhappy with her situation... she was just overwhelmed. She acknowledged that was just the way things had to be and soldiered on with the best of them.

To be completely fair to herself, not only would it be unfair for her to be subjected to the circus that was the degrading tradition they called a 'ball', but it would also be a waste for the suitors themselves. The room would already be filled with every eligible bachelorette in the land - desirable or not - and she would just be one more face to overlook. A waste of precious time and space. If she did not have any interest in it, then why would she attend? At the end of the night, it'd be better for everyone if she just stayed home.

In the end, she didn't get a choice.

Attendance was mandatory by law. She had been absolutely willing to risk it in order to not go, mind you. She figured if she laid low for the night no one would be aware that she had hold herself up instead of going. Even if they did, it would be long forgotten once the Prince had picked his bride. His Cinderella. She had been operating under the impression that her father wouldn't even be an obstacle in her path. However, she had made the mistake of assuming that he would overlook the matter, due to his withdrawn nature. It hadn't been the case at all. When her father had realized her plan, he had been quick to show his disappointment. She had underestimated her late mother's love for the tradition - because her Father had been quick to express just how much it hurt him that she would reject something that had given her mother such joy. It had led to... quite the argument.

Which led her to where she was now. Hovering at the edge of the crowds, as far back as acceptable from the main festivities. It had been a nightmare to get here. After the fight, her father had gone to where he had stored her mother's things and dug out a gown that Briella, frankly, was surprised to see they even had. It was a floor-length thing, with a full skirt and a modest petticoat to match. It was a pale mint color, with chocolate brown pinstripes running vertically on all surfaces of the dress - a style that, while quite slimming, was very out of style. Starburst lace in the same brown lined the neckline of the gown, along with the panels in the front and the bodice itself, perhaps to make the off-the-shoulder design look softer. There was even a scrap of the same lace to fasten around her neck. It was, all in all, a pretty dress.

However, it was very dated. Her mother had been a size smaller than her, so she had to be cinched in at the waste. The dress was tight and the corset was tighter. It made the whole thing not only quite heavy and hot but also made it quite hard for her to breathe or bend at the waist. The matching shoes bit into the back of her heels and the earrings had been forgone entirely due to her unpierced ears. Her customary locket had to be left aside for the evening - due to how jarring it looked with the rest of the outfit. When her father had seen her, he had cried. She didn't have the heart to say anything - and instead twisted up her hair in an almost lazy bun and called it a finished look for his sake.

Once he had been sure she had changed into her mother's things, he had swanned from the house to get her into the back of the wagon they used in trips to the market and carried her to the next plot of land over, a farm owned by an elderly couple that had been shepherding their three grandchildren into a carriage they had rented for the occasion. With some pleading on the part of her fathers, they had agreed to carry Briella to the castle and make sure she was introduced just like the other girls on the agreement that officially she would be one of their Cinderellas.

The carriage ride had been quite long and awkward as the older woman had grilled her on not making a fool of them since for the evening her name would be attached to theirs, while the two perspectives Cinderella's and the young man going with them gossiped about the state she was in. The woman had gone as far as to take out a compact and demand Briella sit still as she did up her face. Judging by the way the grandchildren had snickered, she imagined she looked quite awful once the woman was finished. She promised herself to wash her face the moment she got the chance. She was already going to make a fool of herself, she didn't want any help making it worse.

When they arrived, things seemed to get a little hectic. Thousands of people moved up the long stairway into the castle as they unloaded carriage after carriage of hopefuls and spectators alike. Once they had been unloaded she had trailed after the group her father had sent her with, honestly feeling the slightest bit winded since the corset was offering her little leeway to take deep breaths - ones that would need when making the trek up to the main entrance.

It was all a bit stressful to be completely honest. From being ushered in and then presented at the top of a high staircase just like every other girl. To being briefly announced, only to then be ushered down into the ballroom below so the next group could go. Once at the bottom of the stairs, she had stolen away to the edge of the crowd. Stealing a bit of cloth from an unsuspecting pocket so she could wipe her face clean in the reflection of a vase.

From then on it had been a bit of a waiting game. Readily curtsying to those who gave her notice, and politely turning down the one or two dances she had been offered by officials praying on the stupid young women who had no hope of landing the prince. Ones that were instead here in hopes of landing a husband above their status to secure an easy life. It wouldn't be the first or last time she would hear stories about women doing their best to please a man at the Cinderella's Ball, only to end up alone and expecting - with nothing to show for it other than her poor judgment. Then again... it sometimes worked out for those crafty ladies who managed to land a man, so who was Briella to judge?

It didn't really matter to her, in the end, what the others did here. All that mattered to her was just how soon she could leave. She knew if she ducked out too early, a guard would simply turn her back to the festivities, so she kept an eye on the crowd. Once people started to look a bit tired, she figured it would be more than enough reason to finally leave the palace and ask one of the others who had similar ideas as her to give her a ride home.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

Prince Matthew had lived nothing if not a spoiled, sheltered life within the walls of various castles and manses. From the moment of his birth, far longer than he could remember, he had been pampered and primped and preened by family and servants alike. He was to be the King someday, and was of course expected to play the part well. As he grew older and more educated in matters of statecraft, he came to learn of his parents' meeting, and indeed the meeting of all Kings and Queens within his land for countless generations. Upon the Eighteenth Day of His Birth would come the largest affair in the history of his Kingdom. More popular and culturally important than even his own birth or Coronation - his Cinderella Ball.

Of course, things were different than in Cinderella's time. Matthew had no need to worry that a wicked woman should hide his bride away or foist her own undesirable daughters on him. In his time, he would be presented witch each and every woman in the Kingdom and granted the right to choose his Bride. Despite this, he never found himself planning on any particular woman or type, simply content to live a princely life in the palace with the whores and servants, growing older and more conceited with each passing year.

Finally, the day of his ball arrived. He spent hours in front of his mirror admiring himself while two chambermaids prepared his outfit. He practiced his smile, his wave, all the typical gestures required of a good head of state, and felt content with his looks and his charm. He snapped his fingers, summoning one maid to follow him to the bath, his hand absentmindedly groping at her rear through force of habit. Matthew had no intention of making any sultry requests of her today, he found his maids quite boring and obedient. He simply undressed himself as she drew the warm water and took a seat within, waiting for her to undress with hardly a glance in her direction.

A man entirely accustomed to the finer things, he felt no arousal or intimacy from the act of her dutiful hands scrubbing the dirt and grime from his skin, exploring every inch of his body. He let out a yawn and allowed himself to be groomed as he imagined what type of woman would win his heart. No noblewoman, with their incessant needs and constant complaints. If there was one quality which he sought, it was his Mother's calm demeanor and down-to-earth perspective. Before he knew it, his body was clean and his maid was offering her usual morning duties, which he denied with a mumbling shake of his head before rising up to be dried off. He was oblivious to the maid's pouting face, as she had clearly been hoping to seduce him prior to the evening's affair.

Next came the dressings, a resplendent black suit with green accents to match his eyes, each piece made of the finest cloth and silk known to his land. From his view high amongst the palace's windows, he could see the crowds of women already lining up to be with him. It was only natural, of course, that they should be clamoring to meet the future King, the most handsome Prince known to womankind, and most skillful lover to boot. No woman had denied his advances in his entire life, each of them no doubt hoping to become his Cinderella. He was certain that the night would be full of opportunity for him to select his perfect bride.

Another few hours passed, and Matthew summoned his guards to escort him to the Ballroom, where the majority of women were to be. As he moved through the palace, every pair of eyes was on him. The men's clearly full of envy, and the women's full of a desire to belong to him. It was an exquisite feeling, or should have been, but to him it felt very much the same as any day within his home. Women were dressed to their best, each curtsying and presenting themselves in their own ways, and he found himself incapable of keeping his hands by his sides, instead reaching out to touch each of them women on their waists, faces, or for the particularly buxom ones, their chests. His fake smile was plastered across his face indefinitely, a simple reflex of his nobility, but the women seemed to swoon as they saw his delicate features feigning joy at the sight of them.

As Matthew finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a particular woman in a mint green dress with brown pinstripes which was clearly much too tight. More strikingly, though, was her demeanor. He was not sure whether she knew he stood before her. Her eyes did not attend his presence, her face seemed devoid of joy to see her Prince...He was perplexed, more drawn to this confusing young woman than any of those who had thrown themselves at him (some quite literally). He stepped directly in front of her and cleared his throat expectantly. "My Lady, is something amiss? You do not seem aware of who stands before you!" He chuckled at his own wit, causing a riot of chuckles to accompany him in every direction. "You are a vision, though I must confess, this dress seems much to tight. Do you need my assistance to free yourself from its clutches?” He laughed again, as did the crowd, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

 

[Junnabee]

Briella had seen fit to fall into something of a waking dissociation. Ideally taking in each of the brightly colored dresses as they twirled about the dance floor. Finding that watching the dancing was far more acceptable than staring blankly off into space. Only truly came back to herself in order to shoo those who bothered her away with the utmost politeness. She had briefly considered finding her way to the snack table if only to use the excuse of her mouth being too full to politely indulge in conversation. The tightness of her bodice quickly chased the mere idea of it away. Seeing as even a single grape left her fearing she might simply burst out of the lacing of her bodice. There wasn't any need to make herself ill when the present situation was more than enough to unsettle her stomach.

She's so preoccupied with watching the way a particularly beautiful emerald gown sparkles when the lady wearing it is spun by her partner that she doesn't notice someone approaching her until they come to stand directly in front of her face. She blinks hard, holding in her startled reaction, and lifts her gaze from their sternum to their face. Distantly noting that while this person is taller than her - they are not unbearably so. She had already had a giant of a man standing close enough that she had to crane her neck back once tonight. She had no desire to do so again.

It takes her a second to place the face she's now staring at. It is only after the crowd laughs as if his mediocre jap is something quite hilarious that it occurs to her who exactly this is. In her desire to draw no attention at all, she has somehow managed to attract a particularly pesky fly. The crown prince himself had picked her out for herassment it seems. However, she's unaware of just what kind of harassment he's seen fit to pick until he continues to run his mouth. She immediately finds him just as distasteful as she had imagined. And not nearly as charming as everyone said he would be. The only thing this man had going for him were his looks and she was not so vain as to cave to them.

"Why, I do believe something is quite amiss. You see, Your Highness, you stand before me offering assistance I have not asked for nor am I in need of. Now, I can only assume your offer is made with the purest intentions. But, even if I needed help, I could hardly ask you to lower yourself as to do it for me. So," she lifts her hand to carefully remove his from her bare shoulder, "No. Thank you, good sir, but I'll be passing on your terribly kind offer and bid you the most respectful of audios'."

The crowd had gone from jovial revelry to nervous and confused titter.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

A frown crept into the Prince's face, not one which communicated rage or displeasure, but a look of confusion. He was instantly reminded of his Mother, the only woman who had said no to him before today. Even his wet nurse had relented once he came of age. Clearly there was something different about this woman with her ill-fitting dress and lazily tied hair. Did she...was it POSSIBLE that she may not want to be his bride? He shook off the uncomfortable notion as his face returned to its usual smile.

Matthew may have been many things, fool included, but he was well educated in matters of diplomacy. He understood the meaning behind her words, yet chose to continue his chase, incensed all-the-more by her standoffishness. He let out a laugh, calming the observers around him, and returned wit for his own form of wit. "You wound me, my lady." He pantomimed as if taking an arrow to the chest, creating another wave of sycophantic laughter. "It is but one of a Prince's many duties to be attentive to the needs of his subjects. And I should be more than happy to lower myself and attend to yours. In fact, I believe my silvered tongue may be just the thing to handle your needs quite thoroughly."

The crowd was a mixture of laughter and jealousy as the Prince again laughed at his own joke and slid his hand from her shoulder around to her back. He pulled her in close with one arm, staring down into her eyes with a look that suggested there may be a real human being behind them after all. "I shall have either your name, or your slipper. Though if you send me across the country to match it, I shall see you punished in my own special way."

 

[Junnabee]

The proverbial blood was smelt in the water. Mentions of a slipper at this particular ball were no small thing. There were a few stricken faces at the idea that perhaps the game was already over and they had lost to such a dowdy plain face. Surely the prince was jesting in a boastful manner for all their amusements. There wasn't a chance that he would choose the ungrateful common girl over any of them - was there?

Her eyes widened briefly, though it was unclear if this was in response to the mention of said slipper or the way he had so boldly decided to pull her in. Either way, they narrow soon after as an unspoken irritation begins to simmer within her gut. She attempts to bite her own tongue so as not to lash out at him, though even as she speaks her polite words are tinged with dissatisfaction at his insistence.

"Well I should have you know that these particular slippers were gifted to me, so I truly have no intention of parting with them. And, now that I think of it, my name is quite the same in the way. I would like to keep it to myself. You understand, surely. A wise prince like you. Now. Seeing as I have wounded you once, I should hate to do so again. I hear the egos of princes are quite fragile things. It would be best if we took our leave of each other. Don't you agree?"

She lifts a single hand and places it gently on his chest, before pushing with some force. Not enough to send anyone tumbling - but more than enough to convey her desire to be released from his grasp. Especially here in front of all these people. The last thing she needed was to be making enemies because this lecherous prince had decided to give her attention. The women of the court were dangerously jealous little things.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

If he had been surprised before, the look on the Prince's face this time was nothing short of stunned. Fortunately, the downward angle and crowd around him kept his face largely hidden to anyone but Briella. Still holding on to her back, his second hand rose to cover the one currently pressing into his chest, making the whole thing look terribly romantic as he regained his composure. "I absolutely do not. Unless what you MEANT to say was that we should take our leave of this place together, in which case I believe I could be convinced. You seem rather intelligent, for a woman, so I'm sure you know better than to disobey a Prince, no?" His threat was not physical, nor did he vocalize exact consequences, but it seemed quite clear that he would not leave empty-handed.

"You may keep your slippers, important as they must be. But I simply will not allow your leave without learning your name." It made no sense. He was handsome. There was no richer man in the Kingdom, save for his Father. This girl could be the future Queen, herself and her family cared for through the rest of their days. And the rumors of him being a skilled lover were quite true. What more could a woman want?

The jealousy in the crowd continued to mount, and some women began hissing and cajoling, bemoaning both their own luck and the stupidity of a girl to turn down such a wonderful chance. Matthew's steward stepped forward, clearly unamused by the diversion. "Your Highness, we must continue. There are thousands of women here to see you. Leave the peasant girl be." He grumbled, gesturing to the guards to clear a path towards the head of the ballroom.

Matthew shook his head and looked down at the girl with his fake, charming smile. "You may grant me your name, or I shall have my Guards abscond you and pry it from your lips myself later."

 

[Junnabee]

For a woman!?

The irritation finally steals its way across her face as she stares up at him. Her demure smile, once strained, went sharp at the edges. Like she's sharpened her sword or bared her fangs in the face of something she considers especially heinous. For a moment she had felt nothing short of triumphant. An oddly fulfilling sense of accomplishment flooded her at the plainly shocked expression that ruined the prince's pretty if not obnoxious face. It had been a memory she would have recalled fondly for years to come if not for his quick thinking in reframing her refusal.

"My, my. If I didn't know better I would say I was being threatened. How charming. It is a wonderful thing that I know better."

She frames the comment as if she's lightly teasing him rather than calling him the brute she perceives him to be. Obnoxious and discourteous as he is. How, she wondered, could these women fall over themselves for a shot at him? Surely the crown was not so blinding? Shallow, she decided, the desire to have this man must be something shallow. There was no other reason to give him his name and his money. Or, she supposed, should the rumors she heard all night be true and the person in question desperate enough, his cock. She'd never understand - but if they wanted him so bad they could have him. She'd gladly have someone else take him off her hands.

"Briella. If you truly must know. My name is Briella. Do take care to forget it before the night is out. There are, after all, thousands of women with thousands of names. Leave the peasant girl be."

She knows with the final jab she's probably made an enemy or two of the women about. She'd either have to be quick in accepting a dance with an eligible bachelor or make haste for the carriages. Taking the risk of getting caught by a guard just to flee the ballroom. Maybe if she assured them a the gate she had already managed to have some face time they would let her leave? She might be able to manage some tears and weave a tale of being rejected so that they might pity her or write her off as a prospect. No need to retain someone the prince already turned away.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

"I truly must. And I shan't forget such a lovely name in a thousand nights of a thousand women. I confess, I hope to find myself murmuring it as your beautiful eyes stare up at me from below far sooner." The Prince finally releases her hand and then slides his hand even lower as he turns to walk away, lightly caressing her rump over her dress and giving her a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be sure to give each of my subjects the attention they deserve. This is a very important night in the lives of the common folk, you know? They shall remember me for years, likely disappointed that I had not even bothered to ask their names. I look forward to seeing you again, Briella." He looks to the steward as he says the name, prompting him to scribble something into the pages of a book.

The Prince finally turned away, wrapping his arms around two women with large breasts and walking towards the table at the head of the ballroom. "My lovely subjects, I apologize for the delay. I know you are all equally deserving of my time. Please, walk with me." Leaving with both women pressing their bodies against him, the Prince continued through the crowd bowing, kissing hands, smiling, and laughing in a tone slightly more hollow than the one he'd taken with Briella.

Meanwhile, the steward turned towards her with a sour look on his face. "For SOME reason, His Highness has placed you on the list for further inspection. Later this evening, you shall be called to dance, and afterwards for a private interview. Should you fail to attend, you will be gaoled and dealt with in whatever way he sees fit. Pray remember this, and dismiss any notions of flight." It was as if he could read her mind, or perhaps the man was just especially shrewd. Not that it took much skill to interpret her clear disinterest.

The surrounding crowd seemed to widen, not wanting to associate with the embarrassing peasant and, presumably, forgetting the point of the entire charade. Most women stared daggers at Briella, while others seemed to eye her with a jealous glare as if trying to understand what they lacked.

 

[Junnabee]

She glared openly as the prince looked down at her. Looking ready to start spitting in rage. Which probably makes it for the best that he does finally actually leave her to her own devices. She'd be grateful if not for the soft gasp of open outrage that slipped out of her at the very purposeful wandering of his hands coupled with a cheeky wink. She quickly hisses after him with a less lady-like, "If only I was so unlucky!"

She turns to leave only for the Steward to catch her eye with a disinterested if not unamused look. He explains that she has been added to some kind of list that marked her for further inspection - whatever the hell that meant. He mentioned further dancing and an interview. Both things she'd much rather not take part in if it was all the same. Still, she insisted that she had very little choice in the matter.

"You mean to tell me no one here has the right to decline?"

The man doesn't offer any kind of verbal confirmation one way or the other. He looks at her in a flat sort of way - as if questioning her intelligence. It's more than enough of an answer to her and she has never been more insulted in her entire life. This was a farce of a tribute to what was once a lovely love story. There was only the semblance of free will here and yet every woman seemed quite pleased to be nothing more than cuts of meat.

When others began to give her space she quietly bemoaned her rotten luck. Still, she supposed all was not lost. All she had to do was make a complete ass of herself going forward. If she made herself completely undesirable during this 'further inspection' then he would have no choice but to pick someone better suited to be his poor wife. The title of Queen surely wasn't worth it.

The elderly woman, Mrs. Dozze, who had done her makeup on the ride over makes her way through the crowd and approaches her. She looks deceptively motherly as she approves. Kind and understanding as she comes to gently take hold of Briella's elbow. She makes it seem as if she's congratulating Briella - praising her for her luck. In reality, Briella is currently getting an ear full for embarrassing her family and instructions on how to not fuck it up. Not to mention grief for her now missing face of makeup. Even if Briella was foolish enough to try and run, it seemed Mrs. Dozze was planning on keeping a closer eye on her now that she might just be her ticket to a peerage.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

The Prince continued to wander the ballroom, women hanging on his every word and body part as they fawned over him. Once or twice, he caught Briella's eye and gave her a knowing look, as if to silently communicate his insistence. His hands wandered similarly over the women, or truthfully, much more aggressively as he toyed with their bodies and they squealed and smiled. A few even fainted from the attention, and his guards quickly swooped them up and took them to a seat to rest. Something about the Prince seemed different when he was with these ladies...more charming, perhaps? No, that wasn't the right word for it. He seemed on guard, calculated in his japes and comments, most of which were far less direct and perverse than his words to Briella had been.

Meanwhile, whispers and gossip began flying through the crowd. This noble's daughter had kissed his cheek, that one had asked HIM to dance and he'd even obliged. He was truly the topic of every conversation. An inescapable presence throughout the ball. Interestingly, nearly every conversation included the question of whether he'd asked their name, and it was clear that the request was extremely rare. Sure, there were a couple, but the ones you would expect; the heiress of a neighboring kingdom, the daughter of the King's top advisor. It sounded more like a list of important women than a list of women who had captured his attention.

The Prince rested to eat, sitting at the table and picking at his food as enthusiastically as he was picking through the crowd of women. Something about him seemed hollow again as he smiled and politely listened to more women ramble on about this family member and that godmother, their ideas for palace decorations, or occasionally their more direct attempts at seduction. Nothing seemed to phase him, the same blank, polite expression painted across his face for what felt like hours while the procession continued.

Finally he stood, making his way through the crowd and laughing at the odd comment. This was a man awash in everything that he could want, but there was always the slightest lack of genuine emotion in the corner of his eyes, nothing like the stare he had given. As he made his way past with a group of guards surrounding him, providing him some relief from the constant attention, he caught Brielle in the corner of his eye and smirked. His voice was suddenly much louder, and his smile seemed to stretch to the edge of his cheeks. "Yes, well, perhaps for the final round of inspection I shall have them present themselves to me fully. It only makes sense to review ALL of their features as a potential bride, no?"

 

[Junnabee]

She feels a bit like a viper when she hears his voice carry over the count. What with how she whips around fast a lightly - eyes dripping poison for all the fangs he did not possess. Briella had been doing her up-most damnest not to think of the curr the entire evening. A downright impossible feat after he had so handily forced his way into her orbit and left and oh so very lasting impression. Now even if she were to make a scene by dashing her own head upon the marble pillars of the very castle itself to induce amnesia it would mean nothing. For it was impossible for her to forget when constantly reminded by both the nagging voice of a now loathsome neighbor and the pointed glances of the masses that truly never fully lost interest in this dull rock of a gem that prince had decided to play with. Even in their best attempts at pretending she was not a source of intrigue their wandering eyes were undeniable.

In fact, some men must have something in her they had not seen before. It may have been simply that they wanted to know what the prince found so interesting, to begin with. Like a noble endorsing a particularly sweet cake or unbelievably fine silks. Surely he knew something of quality when he saw it - he was a prince! Or at least something of particular amusement. If she had been excepting invitations her dance card would be handily filled along with her cunt thrice over. Something about the fact she had caught the prince's eye and was a commoner made it seem to them, she supposed, like she would be some kind of spectacular whore eager to hop on the richest dick in search of a benefactor. This, of course, was far from the case.

At the very least Mrs. Dozze was happy to chase off the more vulgar of offers in an effort to keep her one-way ticket to nobility enticing to the prince. Granted, Briella could have done with Mrs. Dozze's side comments about how she would likely be eagerly drooling all over those cocks should she be unsurprised. Still - the ends justify the means and Mrs. Dozze was keeping the majority of the perverts away even if Briella was still dragged into a quick dance now and again.

So here she was now. Tired, feeling mildly dizzy, with feet aching to an almost unbearable degree. Wanting nothing more than to leave the ballroom she could get free of this damned corset before she lost consciousness in front of all these people. Openly shooting a disdainful look at the prince for even suggesting that he might demand a view of her body. She had known the nobility had to be a secretly kinky breed of people - but having never interacted with them so directly she had no idea that even the noblest of blood was so depraved. Was there not a drop of shame in him?

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

The Prince occasionally took note of the attention Briella was receiving, his facade cracking slightly each time. He was loath to admit it, but the sight of other men approaching her, touching her, dancing with her...it all caused his temper to flare. This was his night, and she his first pick to learn more of. Had these animals no respect for their future sovereign? The feeling of jealousy was new to him; no man could hold a candle to his wealth and wit and width, and no woman had ever made him feel as though they could. Yet he found himself concerned. Would there be some man she preferred? She certainly had not warmed to him in their first interaction...

He summoned his steward and mumbled in his ear, inaudible to the rest of the party. The steward's face flashed with uncharacteristic surprise, he clearly was not expecting whatever new demand the prince had made of him. He nodded, bowed, and walked way to speak with other staff and make arrangements. Behind the table was a large divider which created a private space for the Prince's future "inspections," and guards began to gather around the entrance and exit as if on post.

Meanwhile, the current song came to a close and the orchestra's music ceased completely. The steward stood in front of the table and cupped his hands to make an announcement. "Those of you whose names have been taken, make your way to the guards behind us. The Prince has made his selections...for now." The steward gives the Prince a sharp glare before continuing. "You will each be called to dance with His Highness in turn over the coming hours, and will otherwise remain within."

A series of audible groaning and wailing emanated from the crowd, many of whom began scrambling forward in a last minute attempt to gain the Prince's attention. Meanwhile, a very small group of women totaling no more than twenty made their way to the guards and were escorted into the private area with the utmost of courtesy. The Prince scanned the room, waving, and pointed to a couple of women with a demure smile, gesturing them to head to the guards and provide their name to keep the crowd in check. When his eyes finally landed on Briella, he paused momentarily, hopeful that their eyes might meet.

 

[Junnabee]

The steward makes his announcement and Mrs. Dozze sprung into action. The woman's wizened old hands clenched around her arm with a surprising amount of force for her age; digging nails into the soft flesh of her arm. A nonverbal warning to do as she's told. It causes Briella to hiss softly in discomfort. A sound which does not soften Mrs. Dozze's grip in the slightest.

She turns her head to hiss to the woman, "I can walk there myself."

"May you can. But will you? I don't trust you not to run. You're father left you in my care - and I'll be dead before I see you ruin this for me, girl."

Briella has a sharp retort resting on her tongue when Prince Matthew catches her eye. The target of her ire switches and she's quick to look away. A displeased hum on her tongue as she's passed off from the elderly woman to the guards themselves. She's guided back the same direction the other woman had gladly let themselves be escorted in and is left to join the small gathering of women, She can hear them speaking under their breath.

"That's her, isn't it? The commoner?"

"Hush, Lady Jane!"

A pretty petite girl with strawberry blonde ringletts and a baby pink gown with delicate white lace approaches BRiella quite boldly. She was the same woman who had whispered about her moments before, Lady Jane.

"I don't believe I've met you before. I'm Jane Ellina McRodden."

Briella recognized the name. The youngest of Duke McRodden's three children. His only daughter. Known for her sweet face as much as she was her quick temper.

"We haven't. I'm not a peer."

"No," the girl giggled, "I suspected not."

A tall brunette with dark brown eyes and the same tall nose the king's top advisor had stepped forward. Her dress has a higher waist than Jane's and gives her an overall more mature look. Her mouth was hidden behind an orange and gold hand fan as she spoke, "Jane, you're being rude."

"I mean nothing by it, Annette! She didn't take offense." Jane is quick to turn back to Briella, "You didn't take offense, of course."

"Of course," Briella echoed hollowly.

A third woman enters the conversation. A tall dark-haired woman in a freer-flowing, curved flattering dress made of the deepest purple. A style not commonly worn here but far more well-liked in the neighboring kingdom. One Briella, even with her limited knowledge, knows the name of. This is Winonna Lanora Debose, daughter of Marquess Debose. A well-known war hero who's children were known for both their intelligence and beauty throughout the kingdom. Winonna was even the childhood playmate of the youngest princess of their allies to the south. In fact, now that Briella is looking she thinks the princess might be the girl standing behind Lady Debose.

"Lady Jane, this is no way to be treating a fellow candidate. You're no longer a little girl - I would have thought you'd have learned that much by now."

Briella was getting a headache at this point but was helpless to do anything in the face of so many noble young women.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

The end of their catty discussion is punctuated with bursting applause from the wider room beyond the divider. Something was clearly happening, something specific to the Prince by the shouts and giggles of a veritable army of women. As the ruckus dies down, a loud male voice can be heard shouting instructions: "...should the Prince choose, he may call additional women to the floor at any point. If he points to you, let it serve as an invitation to join him. Those women whose names have already been recorded shall be called to the floor in turn, in an order decided by His Highness himself. We hold this dance not only to entertain, or to select a new bride, but in honor of the great love shared between King Eric and Queen Cinderella so many years ago. Let the light of their love guide our Prince, and our Kingdom, into a prosperous future!"

Applause erupts from the crowd, the old love story possibly the only thing the women care more about than the modern prince himself. Most of the women behind the divider scurry to the sides, eager to peek out and observe their competition while the band begins to play a soft, gentle melody. The same male voice cries out, summoning the first dancer requested by the Prince: "Madam Jane Ellina McRodden!" Another wave of applause and jealous groans fills the room as Jane gives a sly look to her friends and an even more smug one to Briella, making her way quickly out to the dance floor.

The Prince is standing in the center of the dance floor alone, awaiting his partner with a dignified stance and look on his face. He seems somewhat serious about the whole thing, respectfully taking her waist and leading her through the opening steps of a waltz. The two murmur under their breaths, chatting about something as both well-trained dancers glide across the dance floor gracefully. The crowd falls silent, entranced by the tasteful display and most of them wishing the Prince would finish his dance early and call up one of them instead. The minutes pass slowly, the Prince looking exactly as charming and interested as he had all night, save for his encounter with Briella.

As the music slowly dies down, the Prince gives Jane a polite bow and gestures her to the side, as if to suggest she return behind the divider. She kisses his cheek and holds her head high, prancing back to her rightful place and shooting Briella another glare before her friends encircle and congratulate her. "He asked for you first!" One says excitedly as another talks over her. "You looked so beautiful!"

The crier's voice called out again: "May I present....Lady Annete McFurlon!"

Annette, more friendly than the rest, gives Briella a reassuring smile as she heads out for her turn, echoing the graceful, soulless dance of her predecessor perfectly. Each other woman was called out in turn, save for Winonna and Briella, who eventually remained the only two "contestants" who have yet to dance.

 

[Junnabee]

The only difference, Briella thought (having been caught up in the rush of women wanting to peek out and watch the dancing), was Annette looked far less interested in the prince than Jane did. The only thing Briella couldn't tell was if this was because Annette and the Prince simply did not have that kind of bond or if Jane was just that openly covetous of the man's love. Briella noticed, even with her dwindling interest, that all of the girls after seemed far more interested than Annette as well. She began to wonder if Annette also had no desire to be Queen. Or simply knew she would not be picked.

She's not sure what drives her to ask, but she draws away from the divider at some point and approaches Annette, "You didn't seem eager."

Annette stares for a moment then in a quiet voice says, "He will not pick me."

"How are you so sure? What did you do?"

Annette raises an eyebrow, and then almost as if seeing through her, "Nothing you could do."

"Excuse me."

Annette offers a tight-lipped smile, before hiding it behind her fan, "He knows my tastes far too well to want me."

"Lady Furlon has no interest in men. She was chosen out of respect for her father." Winonna suddenly speaks up, startling Briella. She hadn't heard her approaching. Still, she thinks she does a fairly decent job of not showing her shock. Briella does however shoot a slightly panicked glance at Annette as if expecting her to be upset at Lady Debose openly telling her this. Annette doesn't seem bothered.

"No interest in women either, if that's what you're wondering," Lady Furlon suddenly adds.

Briella suddenly hears a stressed-out Jane hissing through her teeth, "Why has he holding her so close?"

Briella glances over to see the strawberry blonde girl peering around the partition to watch the southern princess, a pretty blonde girl with exotic eyes. Briella doesn't go over to look - but however closely he's dancing with Princess Salwa is causing Jane to bite at her thumbnail. It must be driving her nuts. From what Briella had begun to understand there were a few among them that had real solid shots at getting picked, and Jane was one of them. So any girl getting attention that she didn't get seemed to make Jane nervous in a distinctly ugly way.

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

Next comes the dance between the Prince and Lady Debose which is much livelier than the rest by far; the music sounds far different, belonging in Lady Debose's homeland, yet the Prince seems fully prepared for the change of pace. The two not only glide around the floor but spin and twirl, the dancing customs of other kingdoms well known to Matthew from years of practice in statecraft. The two laugh and joke, apparently old friends from the comfort with which they wow the audience with their performance. Despite the passionate dancing and friendly banter, the two remain physically distant, clearly practiced but not especially passionate in each others' arms.

Jane seems to calm herself slightly, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face. She seems clearly convinced of her victory, now refusing to even acknowledge Briella as any form of competition. The music dies down once more and a great wave of applause washes over the Ballroom, the crowd clearly satisfied by the spectacle. Some of them even cheer, presumably interested in the marriage of two nations and two cultures more than the cordial relationship between the two partners. The Prince knows who is next, and he ushers Winnona away respectfully before straightening his shirt and coat. His back stiffens and he prepares himself for the sour looking redhead to come out to greet him.

"Lady Briella Russel!" The name rings out through the hall to a combination of unruly peasants vicariously living through Briella and dour looking nobles quietly clapping their hands out of obligation. The guards gesture to Briella and point her around the corner as Jane sniggers. "Have fun out there. This must be so exciting for you." She goads Briella while she walks past.

The Prince wastes no time in gliding across the floor to Briella and bowing deeply in front of her. He kisses her hand, followed by another set of cheering from the crowd all around them. He tugs at her arm, dragging her to the center and wrapping his arm around her back for the second time this evening. He looks down into her eyes, pinning their bodies together, and whispers quietly. "Now that my obligations are through, I should very much like to enjoy the feeling of your body pressed to mine."

He whisks her away in a waltz, classical and fully reminiscent of the tale on which the Ball was based. Briella can vaguely feel heat emanating from his crotch as a dull pressure begins to form against her and the Prince smirks while staring into her eyes. "I imagine Miss McRodden shall be beside herself by now...insufferable child as she is. I do hope you'll help me in a bit of humiliation?" His voice sounds entirely genuine, and his smile completely sincere. "Unless of course you'd prefer to just focus on us?"

 

[Junnabee]

The sour-looking redhead does look particularly sour when her name is called. She doesn't actually remember giving anyone her family name - so she's not pleased someone has gone through the trouble of figuring it out. Though she suppose there is a small measure of satisfaction that some poor judgemental asshole had to desperately quiz the doorman to see if they remembered what the name of this faceless commoner actually was. Because absolutely no one was actually paying attention during her group's introduction.

The soured look bleeds off her face when she hears Jane's sniggering. This whole situation was as humiliating as it could possibly get. She was a plain-face common woman in a visibly dated dress about to dance in front of all of the peerage with the single most eligible bachelor in all the lands. She could not look any worse if she tried. She wasn't taking into account the overwhelming amount of people out there currently waiting with excitement to see the Cinderella story play out once again. In a way so true and pure as the first. The only thing that could make it better for them was if she ran at the end of the night only to be stolen away. The power of hopeless romantics. None of that was of consequence to her when she was actively being mocked by the young Lady Jane.

She refused to give her any more reason to mock her.

She lifts her head high and makes her way onto the floor on bleeding feet. Hiding both her nerves and her lack of breath as she sweeps her way to the prince. Lifting the hand to him as he reaches for it. If only to not show him outward disrespect where she was quite literally the center of attention. It was much harder to play off disrespect when everyone was watching.

She whispers to him, close enough to be heard, "You are disgustingly direct."

When she realizes what she's feeling her eyes widen for a moment before she hisses between her teeth at him. She intends to threaten him with the safety of his toes right up until the point he brings up Jane. She hums like she's considering the offer quite hard. She turns her gaze over his shoulder in a way to avoid the intensity in his gaze that came with such a suddenly genuine expression.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind seeing her put in her place."

 

[ShyFilthySmut]

"Princes know what they want, and must not be afraid to take it." He speaks in a low tone, directly into Briella's ear as he replies. "For example, Jane is not the woman I most want to see put in her place this night. I find myself regularly considering how best to silence that wicked tongue of yours." He continued to lead her through the dance, even picking her up effortlessly by the waist in an elegant twirl. His arm pulls her close again, the two bodies pressed together as he admires her beautiful features through soft, gentle eyes.

"I do hope you're looking forward to the final stage. I believe at this point I could dispense with the formalities and make my choice, yet it would certainly create discord amongst the nobles. However, we both know who I will choose to remain alone with behind that wall soon, do we not?" He was unable to slide his hand anywhere that he wanted to, and opted instead to simply place his flat palm against her back to steady her.

The crowd had long since fallen silent, an entirely different atmosphere covering the room as they watched the last dance. The ladies behind the wall were in an uproar, having finally realized what it meant to be called out for the final show. Prince Matthew had positioned himself perfectly in the eyes of the public, apparently more cunning than his initial demeanor portrayed. Despite his faults, he was still a future King, and he knew exactly how to play the crowd.