Dance of a Thousand

Noel kept his stance firmly by the wall, his eyes traveling around the party nervously when he turned to his friends and saw them eagerly pick up their masks.

“Oh yes, and here’s Mischa,” the king announced almost harshly as his body shifted and his gaze snapped for him to walk towards his throne. The rest of the royalty was already waiting for him, eyes pressed and noses turned up at the sight of the newest member of their family.

All but one, at least. Astrid was gazing towards the boy fondly, a soft smile on her face and a slight twinkle of excitement taking over. “You’ve got this!” she whispered gingerly towards Mischa, grinning when he carefully turned around and smiled back at her.

”Thanks, I’ll try or whatever,” he managed as he turned to walk down the stairs and felt all eyes immediately fall on him at the same time that the music started.

This was so fucking stupid. What was the point, even? He was legally eighteen now, he could easily just waltz out and become a normal citizen with a little bit of funding. He had no desire to be in this stupid kingdom, especially not as royalty. Yet, it was his Мамаʼs final request… he couldn’t not respect that. He loved her far too much, and this was what she wanted. For him to remain tended to and safe.

Yet… they weren’t really doing either of those things anyways.

The music continued on as roars of excitement waved through the room, and Noel couldn’t help but turn to Penny, his eyes wide with worry. “Penny, I’m really starting to regret this…” he murmured, turning back around to watch as princes and princesses joined hands in preparation for the waltz.

“Relax, Noel. You’re just overthinking it again. It’s the same as every other party that we’ve been invited to. Dance around, converse, and then we can leave if you’re still really that uncomfortable. We’ve been over this!”

She was talking as though it was no big deal, but it was to Noel. A few hours earlier he was beaming at the thought of being invited to a different pace of party, one sent out by a prince. Now it just felt useless, the crushing weight of realization he’d be the only visibly different one here bearing down on him more than anything else. Penny was pansexual, and Constance was her own person, questioning herself and considering a more fitting label like lesbian. Even then, people were much more comfortable with girls loving other girls than seeing a guy with a guy. Especially in a gown.

Noel was about to open his mouth to speak, but when he pivoted back around to face Penny, a new figure had swooped in to bow before her and offer out a hand.

“May I have this dance?” he spoke shyly despite the smirk that planted itself neatly upon his lips. His short, tight curls were familiar, and that’s when Noel realized that it was the same kid he’d met a little while earlier. The prince's gentleman-in-waiting. What was his name again? Mickey? Dicky? Eh, it didn’t matter. He did look a bit different with the olive colored mask on. Noel couldn’t help but grin on his own terms as he watched the sight, especially when he started noticing Penny’s growing blush just beneath her own dark cherry mask. He’d definitely be sure to rub that in later. The Penny Lamb, destroyer of villains, protector of Noel, getting all shy and quiet from one simple question. It was priceless.

“Oh, uhm…” she tentatively reached her hand out to brush his own, peering down at how he respectfully waited from a slightly crouched position.

“Please?”

“I–”

Penny shifted her stare, instead peering over at Noel. He immediately caught sight and couldn’t help but soften his own look, smiling at her encouragingly. “Go for it!” he mouthed, eager to see her have fun for a chance and let loose. He shot her a simple thumbs up, one arm still crossed, then moved to use both hands and shoo her away. Penny smiled gratefully, then looked back at Ricky and shook her head in confirmation, grasping his hand and giggling when she was whisked away into a pool of other dancing bodies. “Ricky!” Noel heard her gasp.

Ah, right. That was his name. Ricky.

“Noel! Would you like to dance?” a gentle voice spoke out from behind the tall boy. He immediately knew who it belonged to, but he still had to turn around to spare a kind smile to the girl. “Of course, Con! Besides, no one else will want to, anyways.”

Neither could help it just thanks to their mutual bond, and within seconds the two of them had both busted out laughing. Constance’s mask, just like Noel’s and Penny’s, was lined with silver and had bold silver accents, as well as those same black feathers. Constance’s, conversely, was mostly a purple that perfectly matched her frock. Close friends or not, they didn’t want things to be weird, especially as someone who exclusively liked guys and someone who might exclusively like girls, so the two of them decided to settle on joining hands and simply keeping each other close. They twirled one another and swayed sporadically, just soaking up the fun until the dance partners were required to switch for actual royalty.

“Thanks, Constance,” Noel breathed out in relief towards getting some aid in warming up to the scene. “No problem!” she beamed back as she was twirled around to land in a different boy's arms, rather unfortunately.

Another released breath of anxiety, and suddenly, Noel was moving in sync with a different person. They were a rather good dancer, if he had to admit it. When his gaze finally managed to land somewhere, it was on the white mask of a man in a black suit with little yellow medals and ropes attached to it. Probably some important rich guy. Noel had to admit, he was definitely tall, especially if he still towered over Noel, the one wearing six inch heels.

“What short hair you have,” the deep voice finally spoke out as he moved to twirl Noel around and then catch him, smirking at how Noel yelped and then grabbed tighter to his hand for support. “I’m Leon. I’m the eldest of the Wests in the Fearley Kingdom.” He seemed so smug. In fact, he was probably one of those vain guys who believed that people fell for them as soon as their eyes locked. Noel couldn’t even muster the energy or desire to try and notice the color of Leon’s.

“Oh, uhm… yes, I suppose. I’ve no desire to grow it out,” Noel stated simply. “I’m Noel… Gruber.. Of the Courtesan Kingdom,” he hesitated.

“You?! What the hell?” the man suddenly paused, still waltzing despite the visible sickness that he felt. He recognized that name and that voice. “You’re that guy! From that awful ball! You tried to hit on me! Gross! What is a fag like you doing here?! No lady wants you, and I hope that you aren’t here for a prince! They aren’t contagious fags like you are,” the man snapped harshly. “And a dress? What the fuck?!”

“What is your problem? I never did anything to you, and I would never waste my time on your kind! I’m here for alliances and fun, that’s my job. And I’m free to wear whatever I’d like, it isn’t for assholes like you to decide!”

Noel was furious despite his calm external demeanor, and in honor of it, he made sure to step on one of the man’s feet just before he was grabbed and spun roughly away. “Fucking transvestite!” he heard him call back in retaliation, hissing beneath his breath at the painful force of the heel that was jammed into his foot.

Noel winced at that, a bit thrown off by the newer form of an insult just before he stopped to wrap a hand around the waist of a much smaller individual and clutch her carefully, his other large palm placed neatly along her much smaller one. “Oh, hello, ma’am!” she smiled brightly.

“Oh…” Noel paused, hesitating before he shook his head. “I’m not- well uhm… I’m not exactly-” he shook his head, fear building as he noticed a small shift in her stance and a gentle sway amongst her baby blue gown. She allowed him to hold her closer, playing it off, but her eyes narrowed beneath her pearl colored visor, and she seemed lost in thought.

“You’re brave,” she finally concluded after several more silent moments, nodding. “I’m bisexual. I support everyone. Crossdressers and transexuals included,” she shrugged for another brief second. “I’m Susanne, the only heiress to the Sacrellan throne of the Sacrellan Kingdom. You?”

She spoke fast, and suddenly Noel’s head was spinning, mouth dry and thoughts making him wish for a heartbeat that maybe he’d go unconscious. All of these insults and labels and such were just too much, even from ‘supportive’ people. He wasn’t very fond of it.

“I’m Noel Gruber, the only heir in the Courtesan Kingdom,” he spoke dully, looking down at her while her eyes bore into him, causing him to cringe. “Cool, maybe we can form an alliance between our kingdoms or something one day,” she hummed, moving closer to Noel to make an attempt at wrapping her arms around his neck and placing her head against his shoulder.

The attempt was simply futile though. Between Noel’s pull away of discomfort and the change in music, he was successfully able to spin her around and send them into a two-step instead. What was worse was her embarrassing lack of dance skills, just to note. “Hmmmm,” she seemed to ponder, pupils moving down and demeanor changing. “Well then, just so you know, Noel; Mischa will be mine,” she whispered casually. ”Watch out.”

Normally Noel would be disgusted or annoyed, but all he could feel from that point on was anxiety. He didn’t even want to meet the prince at that point. People were all so feral over him and hateful towards others and each other, it just didn’t feel necessary.

Luckily the switch came, and Noel was saved in no time, onto another conversation; this time not an utterly useless one, he hoped. He was able to hand Susan off to someone else in five seconds flat, but when he turned himself to grab a different princess’s hand, a harsh weight fell over him and his knees buckled. Leon had purposely rammed himself into him during the transition and sent Noel virtually flying, heart racing and expression shocked. “Gods!”

“Woah, woah, hey! Dance is meant for guests to stay on feet together, not end up stacked. Hosts aren’t quite into those kinds of parties, eh?”

When Noel finally found himself planted on the ground and breathing again, the first thing he noticed was the large, strong arms that were holding him in place, and the sweet, thickened accent that surrounded like Holy music, taunting and teasing him with the sugariest chuckles.

There was only one person within the entire building that had nearly that form of sultry tone. The Prince.