Philophobia || Dreamnotfound

11

George's POV

The next morning George didn't have to wake up, he'd been up the whole night reading.

Tears were streaming down his face as he read the last line of the beautifully written play.

'For never was a story of more woe. Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'

George stared at the line, rereading it. He had never read a book this... this tragic. The book gently closed between George's hands and he looked upon the cover with new eyes.

He stroked the worn cover gently, wondering if Clay had given him this book for a reason. George wondered if Clay had cried over the same lines and turned the pages as delicately as George had. George had never felt so many emotions running through him, sadness at the fate of the two lovers, anger at their ignorance, and bitterness at the irony.

He wiped at his swollen eyes and set the book on his nightstand. George definitely didn't want to leave his room, not looking and feeling the way he was.

He got up and stretched, his eyes snagging on parchment that had been slipped under his door. George picked up the paper and opened the envelope, gingerly gripping the fancy letter. Inside was an invitation.

George traced his fingers over the dried ink, beautiful in its flowing calligraphy. The letter was formally inviting him to a ball scheduled that evening. It was a masquerade and the letter directed George to visit the castle's tailor and seamstress to get fitted and pick out an outfit.

The time of the ball was set for midnight and the royals were expected to line up outside the ballroom before they were announced and had to walk in.

George sighed and set the letter in his nightstand. He changed into fresh clothes and washed his face. His eyes were red, but George could dismiss it as lack of sleep. In reality, George had never felt more awake. He had slept almost the entirety of the previous day and, although he was up all night reading, he didn't feel the need to sleep. With tonight's event, George had no doubt that he would be tired with all the excitement.

George left his room. He got fitted and sized by the tailor and was instructed to see the seamstress, who had already made outfits for the royals. George just needed to pick a color and style.

He entered the room and was greeted by a woman. She led him to the assortment of clothes, taking pride in her work. Every piece of clothing was elegant and made for royalty, but George knew what he wanted when he saw it.

The seamstress squealed in delight when he tried it on, looking at himself in the mirror. He could barely recognize himself in his clothes and mask. George grinned at the mirror, the excitement in his stomach growing.

Maybe tonight will be fun.

~

George stood nervously next to the other royals, fidgeting with his sleeve as he waited to be announced.

"George!" Maia exclaimed, "You look amazing! That's a great color on you."

George grinned and replied, "Hello Maia! You look as stunning as ever!"

Maia swirled in her long, magenta gown. Her mask was shaped in the form of a bird, creating a flamingo look. She certainly looked beautiful and George could tell that she felt like it.

He looked down at himself. He had chosen a dark purple suit, so dark it was almost black. His boots were ebony in color and he wore a mask similar in shade, which covered only the top part of his face. His mask didn't represent an animal like some of the royals, it was just plain and black, nothing special. It wasn't meant to draw attention, instead it was supposed to bring out George's pale skin and dark eyes, showing off George's jawline and mouth. When George had looked in the mirror, he had barely recognized himself.