Prince

It was a ball stolen from fate, a place you had no access to. Your family is but a shadow among the noble coats of arms, and you came here in defiance, almost criminally.

But who could recognize poor Cinderella in you?

The dress that clings to your shoulders is not fabric, but frozen morning mist. Ruffles flow down your back like a cascade of petals, like cherry blossoms falling from a branch under a full moon. The floral appliqués aren't embroidery, but a scattering of living wildflowers, accidentally touched to the hem and lingering there forever. A silhouette born from a sigh flows into a train that trails behind you like a moonlit path across the surface of a lake at night. Every fold breathes, every stitch a promise. The fabric flows with silver light, and it seems as if Diana herself has shed her radiance upon you.

And the slippers... oh, they're woven from lace and the first snow. Their transparent sides are like the wings of a dragonfly frozen in the pre-dawn chill. The heel, sharp and daring, seems to be trying to pierce the sky, to reach the farthest star, to pluck it for you alone. You step, and every step is music, every support just a moment of contact with the ground, which you don't notice.

You float, not walk. You glow, not glare. And this entire lush, noisy, soulless ball freezes, because you have appeared in it—a dream that accidentally became reality.
You passed the guards, and they didn't see you, because you weren't a guest, but a dream they weren't destined to catch. And then the hall opened up before you.

The castle exuded centuries-old pride: the columns soared like the marble trunks of trees planted by the gods. The gold of the walls didn't blind; it sang, shimmering in the light of thousands of candles, and the frescoes on the vaults came to life: nymphs stretched their arms toward hunters, gods bowed to mortals, and it seemed as if these frescoes weren't paintings, but the frozen sighs of bygone eras, watching you from beneath their eyelids.

People in lace masks waltzed around like ghosts, but among them, your eyes found a gaze as heavy as marble. You didn't know who he was, but you felt his aura.