Chapter 6

Adrian walked through the long corridor, unbothered by the intense eyes of his ancestors' paintings, staring at him. The pictures had been hung here for as long as he knew, the glass and frame around them, still new as they had been when he was a small kid who played in these corridors.

The polished glass gleamed in the abrupt and vibrant light, frames hung till the end of the hallway. He looked down at the marble floor, its surface glossy against his dull leather boots, a new pair he'd worn. An exception he made.

He stopped in front of the large mirror, hung on the wall. The sides had been lined with the finest of wood, embroidered with detailed designs. He looked at himself.

The Prince of Belarus.

He was dressed in a white dress shirt, pressed and crisp on his brawny shape. He'd worn a brown waistcoat over it, front closed, soft yet dull like his boots while his pants were an ebony color. Behind him flowed a red cloak, its material seemingly ethereal as it trailed behind him, its movements heavy yet gentle. The upper area had been buckled to the coat, with gold like chains clipping on the top and pins holding it in place underneath. His dark blonde hair had been styled back with a thick coat of hair gel to keep the smaller hairs behind. And on top of his head sat a gold crown.

It was circular, the top points bearing white pearls, lustering. Each of the six sides were dipped inward till they met with the next point where the glinting bead was placed. The outer areas had been laced with decent embroidery. It was embellished with small designs all over the gold surface of the crown, while the center-front bared their kingdom's emblem.

He turned to the end of the hall, where two huge doors stood. Loud music pounded through the door, chatter and laughter leaking through. He took a deep breath as he heard the guards stationed opening the doors, putting on the smile he had rehearsed.

The music pounced louder, leaping onto him. The chatter and laughter slowly died as everyone turned towards the young prince standing atop the long staircase. The ballroom glimmered with vibrant colors, not only of the women's ball gowns but also of the ribbons and streamers that decorated the walls. 

The room suddenly felt cramped as the prince took slow footsteps down the stairs. Exhaustion hauling over his body, weariness spreading through him. The music was slightly turned down at his entrance.

 He could feel all those eyes on him. Each burning a hole through him, yet he glanced at only his throne, eyes fixed on it. He paid no heed to the young women who giggled and eyed him, hardly acknowledging them. Only as courtesy did he give them a stiff nod setting each of them blushing and flattered. So average.

The path had been cleared as he walked to the throne. His throne right next to his father's. He whirled his head around every now and then faintly smiling at the officials and soldiers that bowed towards him. The red carpet under his feet felt thorough, its richness typical like everything else in the stone castle. This was also normal. A party throwed by the King to invite royals from foreign lands. Yet nonetheless the prince had no idea why his father did this.

He looked up, his eyes landing upon the man seated on the throne next to his. His father, the King of Belarus.

There was not a single line on his father's wise face. His auburn eyes glowed with bravery and wisdom as the prince took his seat, next to his father. His glinting brown hair only made him more sagged, a knowledgeable man. His father wore an immaculately tailored suit, his body still in shape, gazing at the royals and officials talking and dancing to the booming music. 

He'd always admired his fathers throne. One of the only things from his heritage that he did. The frame of it was gold, in a slope position made with the most beautiful outlines, only a shade darker than the throne itself. The sitting couch was bright red, soft and comfortable. The sides were rectangular, pinned to the corners. Only a little smaller, his was of grey frame work, the cushion a blue shade. It was rather square from the top but had similar designs as his father's. In the empty area on both their frame works, the kingdom's emblem had been painted, the same colors as the thrones, only making the details slightly less visible.

The emblem was different and unique from the rest of the kingdoms. Another thing he deeply admired from here. In the middle was a badge. A silver, stunning badge with a red ruby embedded in the middle. The sides carried ancient wordings, ones that had been there since the start of this empire. On the sides of the badge, two might looking snakes swirled around, their twisted bodies long and narrow. They seemed to be slithering their long tongues, the eyes also decorated with smaller red stones, similar to the one in the middle.

"Why don't you go find yourself a lady to dance with, son?" His father's voice was cold, a hint of calmness lingering in it, his tone stern.

 He looked into those brown eyes, looked at the wisdom and stories of battles they told, more fierceness storming in them, but yet they seemed so distant, as if life had been sucked out of them, as if nothing but displease and rage flowed in them. His father smiled at him gravely, the sides of his lips curling up to make his mustache twitch slightly, his white teeth glistening. Only when he had a plan intact. Only when he was to do his worst.

"But father I'd rather sit here with you," Adrian answered in his throaty voice. "Go dance, son. Enjoy. Find yourself a pretty maiden." His father's voice had now gotten louder, a little rage seeking into it. His pointed eyebrows raising slightly.

Adrian knew better than to argue, better than to create a scene during a party. So he slowly got up, his read cloak falling gracefully behind him and walked towards the miserably happy crowd. More desolation and tiredness seeping into him.

~

"Would you care to dance?" a shrill voice called from behind him. Adrian turned his attention to the short woman that stood behind him. 

Her face seemed flushed. Coated with a deep shade of pink, her cheeks seemed to get redder when he smiled at her. Her sea green dress was exceptional, dotted with light pink flowers, complimenting her sun touched skin. It flowed down graciously onto the floor, a dip in the front part, exposing her Hot pink heels. Her blonde hair had been put into a graceful bun, a few strands escaping, decorated with more pink flowers, embracing it smoothly. He looked at her all over, her thin hands clutching the sides of her dress tightly. He'd only extended his hand when another voice called from the side, "Shoo Elizabeth, he'd never dance with you." This voice seemed more eager, proud. 

Elizabeth, shifted glances across the room, her mascara coated eyes widening as if she already knew the voice. She didn't take a minute to walk away from the prince, towards the extended stairs.

Gods he felt bad for her, angry at whoever dare talk to such a wonderful young woman like that. She had seemed sweet. He'd go retreat her and dance with her. Embarrassment coiled his gut as he turned around following behind the beautiful female.

"Where do you think you're going prince?" the voice from earlier called. Stunned at someone who dare talk to him like that, he turned around, now with rage.  His  eyes met with the person who had dared, his temper toying with him further. Gripping onto him. In front of him now stood a thin, slender woman. Her purple dress was wrapped around her body graciously. Light brown hair tied in a tight ponytail, the woman's mischievous face was coaxed with layers of makeup, her red lipstick bright, adding to her bold appearance. Her blue eyes looked him all over, cocking her head to the side. Her eyelashes had been covered with mascara, making her appear daring, her eyeliner slit from the sides

His temper played with him, his eyes on her round dangling earrings.

"To find an answer," he started, leashing his anger, "To if that tight ponytail let's any blood into your brain, but then I guess you don't have so it wouldn't matter." His voice had gone serious, a trail of fury still lingering. It was enough to show the hurt look on the woman's face, her lips twitching slightly as she took a step back, but the look was replaced as soon as it came. Her sinister gaze returning. But he didn't wait for her to reply. 

He turned abruptly to the door, marching out, ignoring the bows and curtsies that came his way, blocking out the murmurs and stare of the woman behind him. 

He did not return to the party after that.