She meets jack, a prince who takes an interest in her, but she pushes away her feelings, because she wants to protect her family, but when her palace is destroyed, She's forced to marry jack, who's father treats her horribly, so she decides to run a...
I open the double doors before greeting my father.
I curtesy and sit beside him, kissing his cheek, "what's the matter papà?" I ask.
"The prince and the king are here." He replies, making me stifle a laugh, after that awkward encounter in the field, I'm not sure how to greet his father.
"I know." I say, "I already met him."
Papà perks up, intrigued, "what happened?"
"I was riding my horse, looked back then saw him. Then I fell and he helped me up. That's it." I explain, not wanting to explain further.
"Was anybody else there?" He asks.
"Dante was there." I reply.
"How was it?"
"It was- fine, I think." I pause, "I don't really know how it went." I don't want to give away too much because then papà might change his mind, and I can't have that.
"Ok, that's good." He whispers, "go on, your mother's calling you."
I kiss his cheek before leaving the hall and making my way back to my room.
I'm greeted by mamà, who's talking with my stylist, so I walk over to my dressing table and prod at the pins in my hair before they make their way over to me.
"We have to pick a dress for you to wear to the ball." Exclaims mamà, excitedly, but I pause, nobody told me about a ball.
"What ball?"
"We're throwing a ball tomorrow mi amore." Squeals mamà, she seems happy, and this is the happiest I've seen her In a while, so I smile and hug her.
"I can finally dance with your father again, I remember before we married, we danced together and it was- oh I'm rambling now, we need to find your dress. Have a look in here." She pulls me over to my closet and shows me a variety of dresses.
I shrug and point to a red dress, so mamà puts it on a mannequin so I can see it properly.
She squeals, "mi amore, this is going to look so beautiful on you!"
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It truly does look beautiful, so beautiful that I can't imagine myself wearing it, I don't want to rip the dress or even touch it, because it looks too precious.
"Can we weigh you once more miss? Before you try on the dress?" Asks my stylist, I nod and she proceeds to place the scale in front of me, and I step on it.
