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The next two days passed by in a haze, and the castle was a mess of servants rushing about, meticulously preparing for the ball. Anthony stayed at work decorating the hall with lovely floral arrangments, likely missing gardening, as he no longer was able to what with winter coating the ground in a thick blanket of snow. Anne and I continued baking, and completed it just in time. When the night of the ball came, the castle was as lavish as ever before, the servants dressed formally as guests slowly poured in.

"Rosalie!" a voice from behind me called, as I watched the ball transpire before me.

"Trinity?" I smiled, as the blonde girl made her way over to me.

"Why aren't you ready? I couldn't find you anywhere, the King has ordered us to get you ready!" she shouted, grabbing me by the arm, and dragging me down the hall.

"I'm sure this dress will do fine." I said, trying to free myself from her grasp.

"Nonsense. A casual dress coated in flour will not due for a royal ball!" she answered, pushing me into my room, where Fran and Alice stood, waiting.

"I thought I'd made it clear that I could do this on my own, I'm not a child in need of help, I am grown." I scoffed, as they began to remove my dress, and take my hair out of its bun.

"The King has ordered us to, Rosalie." Alice said apologetically.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"And what he finds out might cost us our jobs." Fran joked, before poking Alice's cheek "Or our heads,"

"Fran, leave her alone." Trinity ordered, smacking her upside the head.

"Twas only a joke." she laughed.

Suddenly, a sharp rap at the door pulled the girls out of their conversation.

"Is she almost ready girls?" the King's voice came from beyond the door.

"Terribly sorry your majesty, we only just found her, we'll work quickly." Trinity called.

"I never imagined the King might have enough respect to knock before entering a room." I clicked my tongue.

"Hush, Rosalie, he might hear you." Alice placed a hand over my mouth.

"My dear however you might perceive me, I do have enough manners not to barge into a lady's room while she is getting dressed." the King said from outside the door.

"You could've fooled me." I laughed.

"Rosalie! Have you no sense? You cannot speak to royalty in such a manner!" Trinity said, her eyes widened.

"I'll speak to him in whatever manner I see fit." I answered.

"It's not as though he would do anything to you for it," Fran began, before looking to the other maids, "The King is particularly fond of Rosalie, I trust that no matter what she says, she could not anger him."

"Nonetheless, I only wish I had the nerve to speak to royals so. The ones he invites to the ball can be so... So trying." Alice said, her brow furrowed.

"And it is well that you don't Alice, else they might have your head for it." the King joked, "I'll be seeing you at the ball, my Rose."

"It is indeed strange..." Trinity trailed off.

"What is?"

"The King's spirits have been high these past months thanks to you. None of us servants have ever seen him so before." she finished, tying me into a corset.

"Could you loosen it, Trinity? I fear I shall suffocate if it stays this tight." I pleaded with her.

"That is precisely how you should feel in a corset, my dearest Rosalie." she tauntingly retorted.

Behind me, Fran tied my blonde locks up into an elegant French twist, while Alice applied a soft layer of makeup to my snow-pale skin. I then slipped on a pair of black flats, before they at last revealed the dress I would be subjected to wear that night. It was lovely, of course, but I had one particular issue with it.

"It's so... Red." I folded my arms, glaring at the crimson fabric.

"What do you have against red?" Fran asked, pensively raking her mind for an answer.

"Idiot. She was a French soldier." Trinity elbowed Fran, who still seemed puzzled, "Fighting against redcoats?"

"Ah, I see now." Fran nodded.

"As unfortunate as that may be, this is what he has ordered us to make you wear... So..." Alice trailed off.

"So be it." I sighed in defeat.

The maids finished dressing me, before pushing me out into the hallway with a quick "Good luck," before rushing off to help the other servants at the ball. I made my way down the hallway towards the ballroom, a heavy sense of dread in my chest. I was about to attend a ball full of British snobs, who would surely look down on me for being a French soldier, a female one, at that. And, what's more, I was a mistress, which would not bode well with some of them, especially those seeking the King's hand. At last, after taking the most circuitous route possible, I came to the grande luxurious room in which the ball was being held, where the King stood waiting by the doors.

"You're mocking me, aren't you?" I asked immediately.

"Whatever could you mean?" he smiled, pretending to be oblivious.

"The dress?"

"You don't like it?" his smile continuously grew wider.

"Oh, forget it, you're impossible sometimes." I shook my head.

"And yet you still love me." he boasted.

"Loath you, more like." I corrected him.

"And yet you enjoy my company." he persisted.

"I tolerate it."

"That sounds like progress to me. Deny it as much as you like, Miss Alcott, but I can sense that you're warming up to me."

"Or perhaps your ego is clouding your better judgement."

"Ego? I am offended." he joked, grasping my hand and leading me into the room.

Our timing could not have been poorer, for just as we set foot on the ballroom floor, a new dance began. The King shot me an expression so as to ask me to dance. I shot him back an expression so as to say no way in hell.

"My dear, you forget rule number two."

"Second, you will obey my commands, and do as I tell you." I repeated the rule.

"I had no idea you paid so close attention to what I say." he smirked.

"I was a soldier, I sort of have a knack for remembering orders." I retorted.

"Your skill in following them, however, could use some work." he laughed, pulling me into the midst of all the other couples, doing a simple waltz.

"Non, non, you misunderstand, even if I wanted to, I don't know how to dance." I said, trying to pull away from the King.

"No time like the present to learn." he said, pulling me closer, and placing his free hand on my waist.

"At a ball filled with royalty? I'll be the laughing stock of the evening!"

"You're already the center of attention, in case you've failed to notice." he whispered in my ear.

"I imagine anyone dancing with the King of Great Britain would be." I responded, looking around to find that many were watching us.

"No, my dear, the women are envious of your beauty, and the men are baffled by it."

"Ha! That is perhaps the most nonsensical thing I've ever heard from you, and that is indeed saying something." I clung tightly to the King as he began to dance, and I did my best to match his pace, though I knew I looked a mess.

"Where do I put my other hand? And what is the step sequence? And must you go so fast?" I asked question after question, earning a laugh from the King.

"I'm dancing in time to the music, love. You put your other hand here," he said, placing my hand on his shoulder, "And as for the step sequence... Just do your best to keep up."

"Vous maudit salaud." I cursed under my breath, as the King continued to laugh at my folly attempt at dancing.

"I love this dance." the King said, after a moment's silence, to which I answered with a scoff.

"It is your turn to speak, my dear. I talked about the dance, now you ought to remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." he persisted.

"I'm perfectly happy to oblige, please tell me of what you would most like to hear." I said sarcastically.

"That reply will do for present." he smirked.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dance at last came to an end, and the couples bowed to each other. The King smiled at me and I scowled back at him, though I had to admit, to myself at least, I'd had fun with him. To my dismay, the King had to leave me after that, so that he could greet some of the guests. I retreated to a corner, looking around awkwardly. Until my ears caught the beautiful sound of a piano emanating from a neighbouring room. I followed the sound, coming to the drawing room, where I saw the most seraphic woman plucking the keys in a divine symphony. She was surrounded by other lavishly dressed ladies, all admiring her skill.

As I entered the room, she looked up at me, and all at once, stopped playing. The other girls turned to face me as well, accusing glares on their faces.

"Désolé." I said, quickly turning to leave the room.

"Not so fast." the woman at the piano said, standing, "I'd like a word."

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