Shannon M. Jonlee

“Your Highness? May I have this dance?”

An overly eager voice breaks Saria out of her boredom, forcing her vision to adjust. A man with an eyesore of a purple tuxedo and lightly groomed features appeared, thrusting his hand out to her. Just one glance at him screams elitist deviant, and in a sea of ignorant rich people, this one is as forgettable.

“I’m sorry, but I have to decline the offer.”

The man's kind eyes turn sour at her answer, suppressing his anger by storming into the crowd. To Saria, this is predictable. A person would ask to do something, she would say no, and their true colors emerge through passive-aggressive actions. Never a sense of honesty in them, a princess would always know.

 

The night has only begun, and Saria is tired of watching her parents discuss the latest politics with the lords and ladies that gathered around them. She couldn't even see them learning what goes on in this kingdom. They perform the utmost duties, while their daughter fights off advances motivated by avarice. The stifled tick to tuck her ivory lock of hair behind her ear into waves of ebony made her uncomfortable in the lavishly lit ballroom. She has to escape.

 

Just before another “suitor” can approach her, the princess calmly walks away from her spot against the purple wall to follow a servant carrying a tray of champagne. The stone-faced woman looks back with confusion, turning around eerily smoothly.

“Your Highness? Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you… I have a bit of a headache. Can you direct me to somewhere private? Please?”

The princess’ eyes keep their gaze as her head turns downward, hoping to appeal to the attendant’s inner kindness. A trick that works its magic once again.  With an understanding smile, the woman signals Saria to follow her out into the hall as the last drink on her tray disappears into the hands of a faceless guest. This mansion is too gaudy for her tastes, adorned with paintings and busts that meant nothing except reputation. To think the workers have to be reminded of whom they work for.

The kind woman stops at a glass door and opens it for the princess.

“The balcony, Your Highness. The most secluded area of the estate.”

“Thank you so much. If it’s not too much to ask, don't tell anyone I'm here.”

“But the King and Queen-?”

“Only if they ask.”

More than grateful, Saria gently bows to her new ally and steps outside to gaze at her surroundings. The moonlight shines down at her and the marble platform as if the gods understand her plight. The spotlight she wants. As she walks toward the railing, she can see the nearby village of Amethystia, dark as the night sky save for the flickering of lanterns. The howling winds can't disguise the cries of those less fortunate down there… and yet the privileged ignore it, no problem.

“...vultures… to think this is my future…” Saria mutters, releasing her bottled-up anger. She can barely stand the heels she's wearing, as they dig into her pudgy feet and ache her soles. Now alone with the door muffling all annoyances, she kicks them off and slides them to the side to let the cool floor soothe her. If only she could do the same for her dress. Her sleeveless black gown suffocated her all evening with its high waist pressing against her plump belly. At least her chest had room to breathe with the vertical slit. “Whoever said dressing up and parties are the best part of being a princess are strongly disillusioned.”

"You know, if you stand out here any longer, you’ll catch a cold. Your feet will be the least of your problems."

A voice emerges from the shadows.  Frightened, Saria backs away from the edge to search for the source. Her eyes try to adjust to the darkness but start to sting thanks to her weak eyes. A dangerous weakness when alone… along with morbid curiosity.

"Show yourself, and I'll lighten your punishment."

The mystery person chuckles at her remark. Brave soul for taking her threats lightly.

The figure steps away from the corner, making Saria’s breath stop. He is extremely handsome, with medium-length dark hair and fair skin. Unlike all the guests who bore violet, he was the only one wearing a black tuxedo with a sapphire bolo tie. His eyes are as dark as the sky, but the shape of his irises is that of keyholes.

 The princess shakes her head to regain her sanity. Looks shouldn't matter at a time like this no matter how mesmerizing a person is.

"Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you."

“You've failed at doing so… how did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I prefer the solitude of the stars rather than the boisterous crowds.”

Saria raises her brow at his words but is thankful she isn't the only one who thinks the same. She still holds firm as the man stands beside her, staring at the city ahead.

“It aches? To hear the innocents, cry out for food and light? The agony that goes on every night, yet we are here gorging ourselves on imported food and wine.”

“No question about it. But we’re taking strides to make it less so. It just takes all of us to have it work.”

“Heh, an optimistic woman you are...maybe you can do something with that mindset of yours.”

 The princess stares at her companion with shining intrigue. She couldn't read his personality like she did with the people inside, yet she sensed he was a different sort. Someone with an actual heart to go with his title, whatever it is. Names don't mean much now, not until she learns more.

"I'm sorry if I seemed rude at first. These parasites make it difficult for me to socialize."

The stranger's brows furrow with concern. With genuine concern, he rests his velvet-gloved hand on hers, smiling as he looks at her.

"No need for apologies. From what I hear, your family reputation proceeds you. Princess Saria Kaie, Descendent of the God of Death. The fact that these blubbering fools still believe in gods and are inconsiderate to your family is deplorable. They don’t take the time to know who you are."

"That's me, the beautiful Onyxian heiress to the throne. Treat me like a trophy instead of a human being, please!  It’s exhausting…at least my parents understand."

“What about your friends?”

“None that don't work for my parents…”

Saria wants to hide her cheeks, red, and eyes glossy.  She should be wary of revealing herself to a stranger at a party away from her home, yet she feels more support and kindness than ever.  The man turns and cups her burning cheek, locking his gaze to speak.

"I may not know you, but I’m perceptive to know that you’re a gem that deserves proper attention. Your name is just the shell, but inside?  I only assume there’s so much more, and few are worthy to see it..."

The princess’ body is weak at his words, while hers is lost.  "My apologies, Your Highness. I-"

"You can call me Saria. Since you haven’t given me a reason to throw you off this balcony, you should learn that I hate it when people call me Your Highness."

"People should have the decency to call you by your name. It couldn’t be more exquisite. If only this wasn’t the only time a humble lord like me could have the opportunity to learn about the real you..."

As he spoke, the man inches closer, his warmth dominating her skin. Saria can't move. Her lips grow dry and her heartbeats skip.  All the two can do is stare at each other and just...

 

"SARIA!"

A man with peppered hair and a beard down to his neck loudly entered the terrace, panicked when he spotted the young woman. She pulls away from the stranger, afraid of what's to come.

 "F-Father! I'm sorry! I just needed to get away for some air and-!"

"Honey, it's all right.  I'm thankful you told the servant where you were, but we’re worried sick. We’re preparing to leave." The king glares at the dark companion, uncomfortable with the distance between him and his daughter. With his arm stretching out, her body finds the energy to hurry toward him. With an uneasy sadness, Saria can't help but turn to say goodbye to her enigma.

"I never caught your name. Calling you 'Stranger' isn't proper manners."

"Hehe, until we meet again, you may call me Sol, Saria...Your Majesty." Sol sweetly bows as the royals exit the balcony. To leave the manor was what she desired, but now her thoughts are to the memory of the one called Sol...