soft symphony rumbled in the far end of the room, reaching each of us with a sweet lull as the Philharmonic Orchestra started playing, engulfing the entire room with appealing hums.

Father held my hand high as we strode our way to the middle of the ballroom, the crowd parting like waves, allowing us to reach the midst of the dancing floor. One hand on my waist, the other holding mine, Father and I started dancing, the music bathing the place like a casted charm. Harmonious and contagious, pulling us deeper, our bodies swaying subliminally with the rhythm. Golden lights glided around, wrapping us in a glowing mist. Showers of sparkling dust were thrown above our heads, falling like shimmering stars from the hands of the flying naiads that spread high above, possibly as high as the towers of the castle.

And the more we danced, the more the beat became intense, echoing with the thud of heels and shoes as the noble families entered the dance, breaking from their endless-looking salute. I could see no clear face as I swayed, one hand on my father's nape, the other holding his, but I knew how they were spread. One to our north, to the east, and another to the west.

Yet another tradition.

The music was soft and, at the same time, intense, carrying lines and lines of promising messages between each note. Promises and messages about a greater tomorrow. About a better life and fearless nights. And as easily as the music flowed, so did my steps.

The cadence escalated with such power, nourishing the euphory in the air, prompting us to move faster, steadier, sturdier. For a moment, his eyes locked with mine, smoldering emeralds glinting with joy. A slight smile lifted his lips as the hand on my waist tugged me tighter. And I knew what would follow.

Progressively, the distance between us increased until the song reached its climax. And as it did, our movements came to a sudden halt before Father made me twirl, my skirt opening and flaring as white flames sparked from the hemline. Soon, those sparks swallowed the entire fabric until below my waist, growing in light the more I spun. The beat ever so subtly calmed, and I gyrated again. Once, twice, thrice, before we moved forward, facing the future Lord and lady of Nevora. The King's arm was already snaked around my waist, supporting my posture as we lowered into a half bow, the couple in front of us mirroring our actions. And as we did so, the whiteness of Father's tunic and my dress vanished and was replaced by a fierce red. Cheers echoed hard and wide.

The same scene repeated itself, again and again, the redness turning to ocean blue and then to forest green before it returned to its first state. It was a symbol of the union of the five continents, despite the absence of Rimelia. A symbol of unity, federation, and respect. The keys to all existing interaction.

And then the music died, and so did the dance. But it was merely the opening of the ball.

Plaudits resonated in the vastness of the room as fireworks erupted in the air, enlightening Cantelot's skies. Colors washed the dark firmament, glowing so bright we couldn't see the stars.

It was as fast as the dance had finished that people surrounded us from every direction, mostly ancient friends of my father. And I stood there, watching, at times, emotional faces and warm eyes, and at others, fake smiles and unspoken questions, and chatting with each and every noble, building my statue of a future ruler.

And it was suffocating me.

The sneaky glances from the crowds, the endless compliments and charming smile, the jealousy from some women's eyes and heart, the flirty grins from men, and unending sea of faces. It killed me, slowly sucking the air and ease out of my lungs. There were too many souls. Too many to bear and support and smile to. I had never been encircled with so many minds and echoing thoughts at once. And what made it worse was that everything, either positive or possibly cynical, was pointed at us.

I could not bear it anymore.

My eyes peered rapidly into the sea of endless faces, smiles, and dancing bodies, searching. I knew that in some corner were my friends, I could almost hear their voices through the turbulence of sounds. But they were not what I was searching for.

Excusing myself under the lie of joining the future lords and ladies, I evaded, and for a moment, I caught father's doubts and questioning mind. But he was too engrossed to even show it. I grasped the chance.

I could always find my friends and join them, but I had to get out of that strangling room. I had to get away from those curious eyes and overwhelming auras. Making my way as discretely and rapidly as I could, occasionally excusing myself and avoiding every possible advance to conversations, I reached the widely opened french windows. Stepping into the brightly lit gardens, I breathed in deeply the scent of the blooming lilies and gardenias, easing my soul and heart.

Willing to hide from all possible eyes, I retreated behind a chain of columns supporting growing wisterias and glowing lights, my eyes falling on the glistering pond not far away. In my head, I was weighing the possibility of sneaking back to my rooms. The heaviness in my chest felt like lead over my heart. My guts churned. A bitter taste tinged my mouth. I knew--as that awful wash of cold seeped into my bones--that this night had secrets wrapped in its blackness. I only feared how dark those secrets might be.

But before I could even move and aim at retreating even deeper into the garden, a familiar voice spoke as his musk filled the air, covering the sweet scent of the flowers.

"Going anywhere, Your Highness?"

I turned to face him, but the first thing that greeted me was the twinkling blue of his eyes under the warm lights. And that sinful smile that slightly tugged at his lips. He enjoyed it, putting pressure on my title, ever since the days at the Whitestone Manor.

"Perhaps." A whisper. My voice was a breathless whisper that evaded in light fog and drifted into the autumn night. I grasped my skirt, fists clenching the layers of fabric. It would have left a wrinkle wasn't it for the charm cast on my dress. But that sweet fragrance of oud perfume wafted around us, and it was like a tether that kept me as steady as the world seemed to sway beneath my feet.

Leon came closer. So close I could feel the warmth of his breath. So close I could smell nothing but his stirring cologne. So close I could see nothing but the ocean in his eyes.

He looked into my eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop, vanishing completely, leaving only the two of us. And there was concern in them.

"There is something stirring in the night," I breathed, my words a cracked sound. I couldn't find my voice as though it was stuck deep in my throat. "And all those peering eyes are devouring their princess whole."

He was silent for a moment, only the rhythm of our breaths breaking the quiescence.

"Not a princess, Celestia," he said softly, his hands slightly fixing a loose tendril. "But a queen. Do not let a title shape you, you should be the one shaping it."

His fingers trailed down the side of my face before his thumbs gently circled my cheek. I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I could do nothing as his eyes looked into mine and straight to my soul. And his words rang deep and powerful.

"Besides," he added, his tone slightly veering to playfulness, "I am quite certain that everyone will notice your absence to open the first dance."

I groaned, eyes briefly shutting, and I could feel the slowly building headache lacing my veins.

The Shadow smiled, slightly retreating, his head leaning against one of the columns. "Noblemen are already lining up and arguing about who should be the one to have the honor of accompanying you."

My eyes flickered to the bustling rooms, my ears catching the mellifluous sound emanating from the playing instruments before returning to the Shadow, only to find his hand extended.

My heart skipped a beat.

"May I have this dance?" His eyes glimmered, a mirror to a calm ocean under a clear night sky--a rare sight that I might not have seen before.

"You may." My hand reached for his, his fingers intertwining mine as he held it tight, his thumb gently stroking it. And I wondered if he was conscious of this action and how it made my body tingle.

I took a deep breath, my eyes flickering for a mere instant to the enormous full-moon hovering far behind the lights and flying bodies of water in the sky, taking strength from its radiance before I walked towards the ballroom with all the femininity and elegance of a queen, Leon moving alongside.

There was a heavy wash of silence, everything going dumb as the Fire Lord and I stood nigh the opening of the windows, hands held high, all eyes diverting to us. Some gleeful, already waiting for the opening of the dancefloor, some others filled with grudges. Mostly from women who likely had wished to dance with Leon.

And again, the crowd parted, leaving a wide couloir to the heart of the room. Ignoring as best as possible the eyes solemnly focused on us, I sauntered my way, Leon's presence feeding me with some confidence. The orchestra readied their sheets as we stood in the same position father and I had stood before; a hand gingerly on my waist, the other holding mine as my left hand rested on his right shoulder, feeling the velvetiness of his jacket.

The music was brought to life, a joyful symphony resonating in my ears, severely different from the one I had danced on before. It was lighter, freer, catchier, fit for a heartwarming dance, away from all political messages. This time, I swayed to the rhythm with a certain joy and lightness, enjoying the waltz as long as it lasted. And soon, we were joined, bodies filling the space around us, moving in perfect harmony. I had expected Leon to be a good dancer, but never did I imagine him talented this much.

Several times, we twirled, momentarily my eyes locking with my father's as he sat on his throne, watching his princess opening the night. A smile played on my lips, and I tried hard suppressing it, leaning my head closer to Leon's shoulder as the beat slowly calmed. He knew what I was thinking of because his eyes had met with the King's too.

"I don't really think your father is quite delighted concerning this dance," he whispered so lightly that only I could hear him. My smile only grew slightly bigger. "How bad is it?" he asked.

"You don't even want to know."

"Will I make it out of this night alive?"

"I'll mourn you if you don't."

Leon smiled, but I didn't mirror it this time as we both suppressed any sign of this conversation, the rhythm ascending again, our bodies twirling again, but this time we separated.

Swirling, I was caught in the arms of the Arelesian Lord, his eyes glinting as he winked at me, his hands securing me tightly. I beamed, but I hadn't the time to spark any conversation despite how much I wanted to as the waltz twisted again, breaking couples and forging others. But this time, I was met with icy, blue eyes and my heart grew bigger. because it had been months since I last saw those eyes and that rare smile. Months since I last saw him.

Luthian.

He looked quite charming and different from the cold appearance he had sculpted during the month-long journey with us. His smile was warm, as warm as the one back in the temple. And his vesting suited him well; dark pants, a beige shirt, and black suit jacket.

"Your Honor." His head dipped slightly as the music signaled the switching coming soon.

"There are no titles between us, Luthian." My voice lowered even more. "Only Celestia."

I didn't see his response as we split, my hands falling again around Leon's nape, his hands caging my waist, his face so close to mine. And then, the beat died and cheers rose as I caught what was left of my breaths. For a moment, I didn't want us to break apart, didn't want the warmth of his body and soul to leave mine. But that was not even near possible.

"We better get out before another dance starts," Leon murmured and I merely nodded. We made our way outside the growing crowd and into one corner of the hall, but this time, my fingers felt cold as no hand complimented mine.

Carter, Mayra, Luthian, and Rhia were already waiting for us, the boys leaning against the wall. But Mayra caught my attention fully. I hadn't had the chance to see her yet this night, but her sight was a delight. She was wrapped in a divine concoction of soft, rose-colored silk, the skirt sewn as a blooming rose, showing how tiny her waist was. Her blond locks were pulled out of her face, leaving her face clean, allowing her makeup to glow. She always fascinated me with how she could be a free soul, and at the same time, a lady that represented feminity and grace when the need arose. She smiled, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"It is a wonder," she said, her lavender eyes flickering to the Shadow. "Over the years, I believed that I would die before seeing you in a ball once again."

"This night is quite different." Leon picked at an invisible, stray string from his cuffs before meeting her stare with a playing smile. "I wouldn't dare face what the King would make me endure if I don't show up."

"I still have no idea what you do on those nights missing the balls," stated Rhia, her eyes teasingly glinting as she glanced at her brother. She looked like Estelle so much it was like she was reborn in her daughter. No wonder she meant the world to Leon.

"I guess we learned it better than to ask anymore," laughed Carter, and I wondered if he had any idea.

"But really," she continued, earning herself an arch of eyebrows from her brother, "I am shocked to see you are such a good dancer since you never danced before."

I lapsed, my brain stopping, and hard.

His first dance. Mine.

"Did you forget, sister, that we used to take lessons since we were kids."

"I sure did not brother, the lessons you never actually showed up to."

We laughed, and the easiness of the atmosphere brought relief to my spirit. It took me a quick glance at Luthian to see his soul and some slight discomfort under that smile. We had seen life and death together, but he still saw our month together short, still felt like he had lived so little of what happened. Like he was left out. My hand reached for his shoulder, ever so gently squeezing it, my soul merging for the fraction of a moment with his.

He had every right to be here, he already owned a place in our hearts, and there was no way we would let him out. And deep down, a feeling grasped me. A feeling that both Rhia and Luthian would become vital members of our team. And that feeling never came out wrong before.

Before we could continue any sort of conversation, I spotted Father's silhouette, accompanied by Ramos's, coming closer.

"Young Lords and Ladies," Father said, standing next to me and everybody bowed their heads in respect. He smiled. "You've all grown so much." What was kin to nostalgia ever so slightly flickered in his eyes. And as fast as it came, it left. But I knew from where it came. Seventeen years and a half did change a lot. But he was here, and it all that mattered.

His eyes crossed Leon's face, his smile turning merely tight as ideas flooded his mind, and I truly wondered if Leon would make it in one piece after this night.

"It is time to open the banquet," voiced Ramos, his cane slightly tapping the floor. "Let us go."

The dining hall accommodating the feast was filled to the brim. Lines and lines of several feet-long, rectangular tables occupied the space, seating more than a thousand person solely in this room; more tables were placed in several rooms and outside the palace to supply all the attendees.

Like the ballroom, this hall was heavily ornated, the tables positioned in the sort of leaving some space between every few range where the cascading chandeliers reached the floor. Maids and servants bustled between the tables, responding to all needs as we were seated at the main table. Proximately, there were a hundred of velvet-cushioned chairs lining both sides, seating all the nobilities.

Countless plates and glasses were spread in front of us, silver spoons and forks and knives clinking against the plates as we ate what varied from roasted chicken and all its appetizers to the endless plates and layers of freshly baked sweets. Chatters and laughs echoed in the vastness as the sound of glasses against glass rang from every corner. Father was seated at the head of the table, like all the kings preceding him, Ramos on his left and me on his right. On my immediate next were seated the noble families, both the Second Crowns and Cantelot's high members, before the ranks started decreasing respectively.

And it was as we were eating and savoring the luscious meals when a messenger came crossing the room as silent as a falling feather. But I had felt his presence since he was running heavily in the hallways. And I felt more the darkness his message held.

He came and stood between father and me, and subconsciously, my mind built a bridge with Ramos's, allowing him to listen to every single word, saving the messenger from repeating. It fell as a shock at first when Ramos dismissed him with his hand, but he did gladly obey.

Father retreated in his chair, hiding all signs of troubles and smiling to the asking eyes. But the echo of those words still hung heavily in my head. Still weighed on my heart like an icy grip.

My eyes locked with theirs, drifting between smoldering emeralds and wise blueness, our minds still completely connected. And we all agreed on what we should do next.

This ball had to end the soonest possible.