Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

The Imperial Ball

"Your cape is going to be scarlet, just like the other princes," the royal tailor stated, studying Wheeler as his assistants scampered about taking measurements. "We normally adorn the princes' garments with rubies, but I think in your case emeralds will make those green eyes really pop. What do you think?"

"As long as you're satisfied with the outfit, I'll be happy to wear anything," Wheeler answered with a smile.

A knock sounded at the door. Without even waiting for a reply, several people filed into the room, carrying an array of items Wheeler didn't recognize. He gave them an awkward wave, wanting to be polite despite having absolutely no idea who they were.

Luckily, the tailor quickly answered the unspoken question. "Those are your stylists. I'll hand you over to them once we finish up with your measurements. They asked to come early so they could start preparing the dye."

"The...dye...?" Wheeler asked slowly.

"Yes," the tailor replied with a nod. "We can't present you to the court with that mop of brown curls on your head. Oh, no, no, no." He clicked his tongue. "Your hair must be straightened and dyed. If you're going to be a member of the royal family, you have to look the part."

"But...I like my hair..." Wheeler said softly.

"You're a prince now," the tailor countered sharply. "Do you want to disgrace the emperor by looking like a filthy farmhand?"

"No." Wheeler's gaze flickered to the floor. "But do I really need to change my appearance?"

"Yes," the tailor snapped. "You were born a bastard. Is that what you want the court to see when they look at you? Or do you want them to see a prince?"

Wheeler swallowed hard, his chest feeling tight. "I don't want to embarrass Father. I'll, uh...I'll change my hair."

"I'm glad that despite your deplorable upbringing you're at least rational," the tailor said, smoothing down his jacket. "Perhaps we can make a prince out of you yet."

***

"Your gown makes you look like a walking human loofah," Mulock said flatly as they entered the ballroom.

"Oh yeah," Priscilla shot back. "Well you look like a huge, broody, um....jerkface."

"Wow. Great come back."

"Thanks, asshole," Priscilla muttered. "And quit standing so close to me. This is our first ball at the royal palace. I don't want people thinking we're a couple."

"Alright, first of all, ew. Second, I am way out of your league."

"Oh, that is so not true," Priscilla snapped.

Mulock smirked, crossing his arms. "Is too."

"Is not!"

"Is too."

"Wait a minute," Priscilla said slowly. "We're both gay. Why are we even arguing about this?"

"Because we like arguing and Wheeler is far too nice to fight with so we both just take it out on each other," Mulock answered.

"Wha, no we...." Priscilla stopped, actually thinking about it for a moment. "Wait, you know what? That's surprisingly accurate."

"Okay. Good talk."

"Look at us," Priscilla said with a grin. "Resolving a fight ourselves. Normally Wheeler has to step in and do it."

"Or at least interrupt us."

"Exactly." Priscilla's gaze darted around the crowded ballroom. "And speaking of Wheeler, where is he?"

"No idea," Mulock replied, beginning to scan the party as well.

Wheeler was normally quite easy to pick out in a crowd, but to their surprise, the boy wasn't anywhere to be found.

"That's weird," Priscilla murmured. "Maybe he's not here yet."

"Who's not here yet?"

"Oh, Wheeler, there you are--" Priscilla froze. "What the fuck?"

It took a moment for Priscilla to realize it really was Wheeler who she was staring back at her.

His cheerful smile and eager gaze looked the same as always, but that's about where the similarities ended. He was dressed in white like the other princes, gold and emeralds embellishing the garment's sleeves, epaulettes, and collar. Cascading off one shoulder was a cape, the color a striking scarlet. Despite the fact that she'd only seen Wheeler in formal clothes once before, the gaudily expensive outfit wasn't the shocking part.

It was his hair.

Wheeler's wild brown curls were gone, replaced by straightened, golden blond locks.

He didn't look bad, far from it. In fact, Wheeler looked the very definition of classically handsome. But his appearance was so unlike himself that it turned Priscilla's stomach to knots.

Mulock appeared to be experiencing a similar reaction, simply staring at him, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"Your freckles," Priscilla said awkwardly. "Uh...what happened to them?"

"Oh," Wheeler said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck."They made me put foundation on to cover them." His gaze darted to his feet. "Does it look okay?"

"Uh...yeah," Priscilla stammered, forcing a laugh as she attempted to be supportive. "You look, um...very cute."

"Aww, thanks, Priscilla!" Wheeler said, flashing her a grin. The action was so familiarly Wheeler that despite his new appearance, Priscilla found herself relaxing a little.

"You smell different," Mulock said slowly. "Is that..." he gave him a little sniff, "lavender?"

"I can't believe you noticed, " Wheeler laughed. "Those cat senses really are incredible."

"For the last time, stop referring to them as 'cat senses.'" Mulock sighed heavily, his voice strangely tight. "Now, can you please explain why it smells like someone dumped you in a bottle of overpriced perfume?"

Wheeler fidgeted awkwardly. "Well, um...apparently Prince Emeric has a very sensitive nose. So, uh... he sent a personal message that if I smelled too 'earthy and poor' when we met, he might throw up."

Priscilla and Mulock exchanged a long glance.

"If I made him ill it would be a terrible first impression," Wheeler continued with a smile that looked slightly forced. "It was nice of him to warn me."

"Yeah," Mulock muttered. "He sounds like a fucking saint."

Priscilla gave the demon a sharp nudge. "It's his brother," she hissed. "Be supportive."

"Father is probably wondering where I am," Wheeler said, still as cheerful as ever. "We shouldn't keep him waiting." He hooked one arm with Priscilla's and his other with Mulock's. "Are you guys ready to meet my family?!"

"Ready might be a bit of an overstatement," Mulock mumbled.