Flurries of overly extravagant skirts, repulsively caked on makeup with eye shadow in every imaginable color, ornate jewel sets only worn to top your neighbor in estimated price, dizzying dancing in simple-minded circle for hours, and a slew of uninteresting men attempting to captivate your attention for even just a moment. All of this, the consequences of another Royal Ball. Unlike most girls of my age and stature, those who lived for this sort of event and planned their lives around it, I was a part of a small percentage of women; that section that would much rather stay in their rooms and read a novel for the evening, escaping to a far off world, our imagination.

                Swashbuckling pirates, dashing and gallant heroes, and tales of valiant courage to save a damsel who, snatched right out of the reach of her kingdom and one true love, fought on her own to save herself for the day she would wed the her savior. Though the general plot was the same across numerous novels of the time, popular the style was, it all was far more entertaining that being bound into a corset, curse the French, and mingling amongst people I would rather just not associate with for as long as I lived.

                “Cousin, would you put that nook down and get ready? We’re going to be quite late if you keep that up.” My dearest cousin, Ailana, was the daughter of the King. My father, the next eldest in the line. I am the only other daughter in the line which, by common sense alone could turn your attention to, subjugated me to being the princess’ closest friend. “Honestly, if you invest too much time in those silly things, you’ll never find yourself a suitable husband. She whined and pouted gently as the maids made her face.

                “It’s not the fourteenth century; isn’t your way of thinking a bit barbaric? We are allowed to be more educated than ever in history, you know.” She sent me a look that silenced me immediately. Reluctantly, and with a number of incoherent grumbles, I sat down the novel and let my own maids dress me, beginning with the corset.

                “Besides, why do you always fight my parties when you know Thomas will be there?” Ailana snidely shot at me and I shot her a dark glare in the reflection of the mirror on her vanity. I gritted my teeth suddenly, a sharp hiss escaping through them at the maid who drew the corset unbearably tight. To be perfectly honest, it was not helping my fouling mood for already being forced to the event. Alas, Ailana was my cousin, and dear enough to be a sister, I had to grin and bear it, if only for her.

                “Commodore Renner isn’t much of concern for me aside from the fact that he is a distinguished officer of your Royal Navy, dearest Cousin.” A pained whimper left my voice as the ladies tugged again. Finally, when they had finished binding me, I sat down, pondering deeply about the very man my cousin mentioned.

                Commodore Thomas Charles Renner of the British Royal Navy, charged to the Raina, the most magnificent ship in the whole of the fleet. To attempt to explain this vessel would be a terrible injustice to her brilliance. Even being in thirty yards of the sea bird could fill your heart for a lifetime. The man in charge of the splendorous jewel though, was just as amazing. A man with a great love of books, hunger for knowledge, sense of humor, appreciation of every form of art, instinct to protect, and intense improvisation abilities in combat. He was down to earth, gentle in voice, but ruthless when met at the tip of his steel. A perfect husband he would make, I often mused. Those thoughts never made it past just that, thoughts. Ailana, however, just seemed to know.

                “You should approach him before some other lady snatches him from you.” Yes. She definitely knew, but through no fault of my own. She had a high intuition for this sort of thing. Rising from the bed, I stepped into the new dress my father and Ailana had particularly designed for me for tonight.

                “And be like every other classless woman in Europe? No, thank you. If he wants me, he’ll come for me.” Reasoning gently, I watched as my maid cinched up the corset-type front of my dress.

                “Oh, he’ll be doing just that when he finally gets you alone.”

                “Ailana! Hush!” I scolded her, but she only laughed, now watching as I was finishing up. She was just three months seventeen, two years my junior, but far from being as shielded as she should have been. She seemed to believe that Commodore Renner would be under my skirts the moment I agreed to wed him. I wouldn’t be too horribly surprised if the often imagined that for herself as well. Her notion of Romanticism was a litter of children. In that way, I was nothing like her; I wanted an adventure.

                She waved her hand dismissingly at my maids, who left alongside hers. Crossing to me, she sat on the bed beside me and took up a brush and tinted crème. With precise ease that came with years of practice, Ailana painted my lips to a compromised color we had decided long ago; a hint of color without looking as if I were the frosting of the centerpiece cake. Reaching over, she plucked my earrings from the dresser. After putting them in and making final adjustments, she picked the both of us up from the bed, link my arm with hers, and leading me from the safety of my room, following the music and boisterous celebrating to the ballroom. Our entrance was met by a thunderous applause. Through it, Ailana whispered into my ear.

                “By your father, make it count.” With that minimally descriptive piece of advice, she left me to mingle about the guests. Mentally grumbling at her in my head, I greeted the smiling people around me. A curtsey here, a kiss on the cheek there; as always, it was the same routine.

                “At least you aren’t scowling at your guests this time around.” I jumped lightly at the sudden voice and turned to meet with Commodore Renner’s gentle, sea blue eyes. A genuine smile turned my lips into an eye-crinkling smile. I curtseyed, slyly eyeing his amused smirk.

                “And here I was, thinking I couldn’t be any more bored and bothered by the circling, dancing peacocks in the center. Maybe someone should fix that.” I over-dramatized a scowl and earned his gravelly, wondrous laugh, musical and carrying. He reached up and pressed the tip of his forefinger between my brows above my eyes, smoothing my exaggerated furrow back out.

                “You’re much prettier when you smile.” He murmured quietly before holding out his hand. “Shall we integrate with the sheep? I hope it might be at least be a little more bearable with me, though likely infinitesimal.” I placed my hand in gingerly in his and he led us forth, the two of us blending in seamlessly with the large dancing group. As always, the Commodore was the only one who could make me comfortable in this setting. Dance after dace had passed with us twirling about in the center, as per usual when any of the royal family decided to partake. I was fond of the copious attention, but the Commodore diverted my attention and made it not only bearable, but I daresay enjoyable. He drew me close by my waist and whispered against my ear. “Would you like to go somewhere I bit quieter?” The song ended and I nodded as people clapped for the band. We weaved through the seemingly endless couples occupying the ballroom, until we reached the corridor beyond the hall. We didn’t stop until we reached the back courtyard, overlooking the harbor.

                “Free at last!” I cried, taking in a deep breath of the salty sea mist. It slowed my heart rate and calmed my nerves, making me feel as serene as usual. I ran my fingers along the cool marble like a child feeling a flower, a smile upturning my lips as it warmed beneath my fingertips. I sat next to the Commodore on a bench, enjoying his presence as I watched the pull of the waves to the shores below.

                “What do you think of me, Highness?” The Commodore broke our comfortable silence. His odd question caused me to purse my lips. Did I dare say it? I harbored many thoughts about Commodore Renner, but none had verbally admitted. “Forgive me, I’ve been bold.”

                “Since when has boldness been a terribly disagreeable trait?” I spoke into the evening air, voice soft, as soft as the airy breeze that passed over us. I shivered lightly, and Renner put his arm around my shoulder. This was different; usually he would just give me his coat, as if I were just any girl. This was much unlike his usual gesture of kindness, much more intimate. “My opinion of the Commodore is by no means prepared for the ears of others. I haven’t voiced these thoughts previously, not even to her majesty, the Princess.” My trusted friend covered one of my hands on my lap with his free and weathered one.

                “Shall I begin then?” He offered, getting a nervous nod for a response. “I think that you’re unique.” Renner began, baffling me for a moment. “I honestly think if often. When I’m at sea, I think of your uniqueness and find myself wondering what you’re doing. Sometimes too long, I admit. You love reading instead of sewing, running instead of singing, imagining instead of taking your position in life as it is; I admire you.” He took his arm from around my shoulders and picked up both of my hands in his, turning me to face him completely. “I’d be gone often because of my status; you know that I can’t just up and leave the Royal Navy. I’m sure as one of my closest friends, you know it better than most. When I’m not required to be away, I will be right by your side. Together, we can make an adventure of our own. That is, if you would do me the great honor of becoming my wife.” He got off the bench and kneeled before me, holding a stunning, simple, diamond ring up to me.

                My heartbeat racked against the back of my ribs uncontrollably. Such a suggestion was so sudden, so uncharacteristic, of my best male friend. In the past, he openly discussed any and all affairs pertaining to him or others. Any girl would’ve been taken aback, I was sure, let alone one who knew him as confidentially as I. As my heart squirmed uncomfortably, the realization dawned on me; I was scared. What frightened me, I wasn’t near ready to be betrothed. The moment a girl accepted a suitor’s marriage offer, her life was over; subjugated then to cooking, cleaning, and care for whatever children would come along.

                A blood curling shriek echoed through the halls, followed by a loud crash and yelling. Commodore Renner’s hand flew to the hilt of his rapier, a frown of distress turning his normal gentle demeanor to deep darkness. In an instant, the saint became the devil. His tender, careful gestures were replaced with tarnished, murderous intent; as if the fires of hell itself burned in his piercing eyes. He turned to me again, his normal humanity returning. Before I knew what happened, he slipped the ring onto my finger, took my face in his hands and dipped in, pressing the most gentle of kisses against my lips. In that moment, I felt the world stop turning, freezing in that second. The only sound: the echoing drum of my heart in my ears. When he pulled away, all too soon, I found myself leaning after him, wanting more than what was given. His darkness was returning, and I knew he had to go.

                “Stay here, Highness. You’ll be hidden from view.” His voice turned cold and gruff as he drew his blade, leaving my side to take care of whatever problem had risen.

                “Apparently from thought as well.” An unamused huff of air left my lungs as I turned and leaned against the child marble pillar. The billowing clouds drifted through the darkening sky as if drawn with the tides. Ignoring my intense curiosity towards the deafening scuffle back in the ballroom, as it was likely just a mere drunkard getting too ‘hand-on’ with a few ladies.

                “Milady, can I get you anything to drink while you rest?” A heavier voice called behind me, unrecognizable. Heaving a great sigh, I turned around but froze at the image. A great, dirty brute swung what looked to be a handkerchief between his sausage fingers. The large brute of a filthy man took a step forth, and I tried to sidestep, only to collide with another figure, though this one was tall and far more agreeable. My eyes widened as the larger man threw the handkerchief to the one in front of me, who then, with an apologetic expression, pressed the cloth over my mouth and nose. I gripped his arms and tried to struggle as a sickly sweet scent filled my nostrils and black spots began to cloud my vision. The last thing I could remember seeing was the taller male biting his lips and whispering a sort apology.

---

A/N: So here is the beginning chapter. I’m trying a different style of writing than my last story; this one is to include more imagery and poetic devices.

I hope you enjoyed it!

More will be on the way soon!

<3

Lynn