The Bluemoon Ball
- Genre: Fantasy
- Author: E.V Lunar
- Chapters: 25
- Status: Ongoing
- Age Rating: 16+
- 👁 5
- ⭐ 5.5
- 💬 2
With the Kingdom Heir coming-of-age celebration fast approaching, the search for a match begins. It is decreed a dance will be held; an anonymous masked ball. *** An anonymous masked ball. Nothing but the unique color of your clothing for identification. Thirty ladies roam the ballroom and twenty-nine men accompanies the Prince of Amora Kingdom in his father's quest to find him a match. Sparks fly and interests grows but when masks hit the floor, hearts might not remain the same. "How many ladies are in the ballroom?" he asked, dread fuelling him. "Twenty ladies, Your Highness-" The air took a dreadful turn. Countless gasps all at once. Silence sat on their shoulders. An imposter danced with their children. An imposter they better identify fast.
Once upon a time, when Tigers used to smoke, and bears held briefcases. In a faraway kingdom; where carriages were used and decency was still a thing. Where ladies dressed in bell-shaped skirts and men wore penguin suits.
In a kingdom where people were awakened by the chirping of birds, only to fall back asleep by the soothing sound of the river up ahead.
Ruled by a benevolent king who did his best to oversee the wants and needs of the people. Never failing to deliver.
The Kingdom Amora was known throughout the land for it's rare mineral resources, peace and quiet. Above all, it was known for love itself.
Legend has it that the Greek goddess of love; Aphrodite, had once visited the Great kingdom of Amora when she was under a dark spell by the forces of evil.
The goddesses light and love conquered all and that was just the beginning.
Another tells the tale of the Egyptian goddess of love; Hathor, having found the people of Amora Kingdom being the purest in heart.
It touched the goddess so dearly, that she bestowed upon them a kiss and set Cupid over their heads.
Till this very day, love beams and shines in this very kingdom. Hence the name "Amora".
The kingdom of love.
The kingdom was also famous for its beautiful maidens and handsome men. Many who trooped in, were sure to leave with warmth in heart and a partner in hand.
Many, not all.
Soft music filled the air in the ballroom alongside young men and women in different coloured outfits. All behind different masks.
The long awaited day had finally arrived and as King De'carlos stared down at the men that were lined up horizontally facing the beautiful ladies, the corners of his mouth twitched in a smirk.
He could assume they were shaking in their boots and while some did try to put up a brave front, others did nothing to hide their shaky hands while they shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
King De'carlos squinted his eyes from the spectators seat just above them in search of his son. He had specifically given his son a special colour. Just to keep an eye on the boy.
"The bloody fool outsmarted me!" he cried. He couldn't make out a single boy wearing green with black striped pants.
"I sincerely apologise, your Highness, I should have paid close attention." the feminine voice said from behind him.
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and snickered, "Not to worry. The boy takes after his father." he grinned. "Whoever said karma wouldn't bite you in the ass should look into my life." he laughed. A heartfelt one as his son's action brought back memories from the good old days.
"Very well, your Highness."
He turned to glance at Gisela, not surprised to see her head still lowered in a bow. She just never listened and didn't seem to stop.
"Don't stand on ceremony." he shook his head. "Oh you poor woman." he sighed.
She straightened, her close set brown eyes however, still glued to the floor as her lips emitted their normal ghostly smile. Her brown skin, if anything, glowed more than before and unlike most days, today she was dressed like a spectator and not her usual kitchen outfit.
She had on a long sleeved black T-shirt and beneath was a brown skirt that reached her ankles and equally brown small heeled boots.
"What colour is your daughter wearing again?" he asked. He had given her the opportunity to present her only child to attend this royal coming-of-age ball. From what he had heard, her daughter was quite a lady and the kindest there was.
"Forgive me, your Highness, but I paid no mind to her colour to keep myself from searching her out every now and then." she said. "I believe it's better that way."
"Hmm." The king thought. "Perhaps it is. My boy wouldn't want me to spy on him too, I presume."
"Indeed." she simply said.
She was a woman of few words and he appreciated her for that. Perhaps it was for this reason, he found her easy to approach and talk to regarding any matter whatsoever.
Turning back to his guests and the purpose of their gathering, he eyed the ladies one after the other. He had picked their colours himself and had his special tailors measure them up and make their dress in under just a few hours.
The girl in black though, "What an odd colour for a ball." He frowned but couldn't trouble himself much since he was the one who chose every colour.
The girls were in a group and while he couldn't decide if he liked that or not, he would just have to deal with it.
Black, pink and purple had been discussing and giggling since they arrived. Three fair ladies with the whitest skin on the floor.
Orange and red had the same posture. Their hands on the low of their stomach, heads thrown back a little too much and shoulders high and straightened. They swayed gently from left to right. His best guess? Either twins or competitors.
They had the same brown skin colour though and afro brown hair held in ponytails.
He glanced over the rest and settled on yellow. A colour too bright and flashy yet fit for a ball like this one.
Unlike the rest, she seemed frozen. Her yellow transparent gloved hands over her lower stomach formed an upside down triangle. Shoulders rolled to the back and vertical to the floor, her brown ombre hair was set loose across her pale white shoulders, dropping to her lower back. And her lips were in a thin straight line.
"Yellow seems dead," he announced.
"Look at her. I don't know about you but that's just lazy. The hair, she has too much of it." he sighed.
"It's a beautiful colour and the length is normal for ladies her age." Gisela suggested.
"Nah," he snorted. "Lazy." he spat and turned away from them. "Tell me something, Gisela."
"Yes, your Highness?"
"What colour do you place your bet on?" he approached his throne.
"Isn't it a bit too early for that, your-"
"Nonsense. Give me your answer logically."
"Very well." she bowed and after a while, straightened to glimpse at the girls arranged below. She took her time in assessing them with her eyes as she hoped to deliver her opinion to the king in a manner at which he would find to his liking. "I believe the Prince might be a bit intrigued with black, your Highness. It's a colour no one expects."
The King paused to give it a thought but not surprisingly, he found her words to be intriguing and quite accurate. "Go on," he settled down on his throne and leaned against it while watching her carry out her observation.
"White will be next. We all know how much the Prince loves contradictions." she chuckled. "Then Purple. He would be fascinated at how a colour can be so pink and blue at the same time. The Prince is one curious boy. He wouldn't go near Yellow, sadly. It's too bright and he worries it's unfair to White."
King De Carlos listened with fascination at Gisela's logical observation. Perhaps he should have called her over when he was picking out the colours, he never wished for any of the girls to get special treatment just because the Prince found some colours amusing.
"Yeesh!" he exclaimed rather dryly. "Let's hope you're wrong."
Ron shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He looked between the men who stood on the same line as he. Men of all status stood there; princes from far away and noble men lined up in the quest to find a bride.
Reaching up, he touched the short mask over his face, running his hand around it, he pushed forward to glimpse at the masks the other men had on.
A similar black masquerade mask with gold print while the ladies had on something girly. A mysterious black Venetian mask with black feathers.
Despite the colour of their dress, they all had on a black mask.
"Love behind a mask," he thought. How stupid!
Looking up at where the King of Amora sat, a black man of intimidating height and a huge build, Ron was sure the king had bullied each and everyone of their parents to make them agree to this bizarre method.
But aside from that, the coming-of-age ball had been going on for years. It certainly would not stop at the Prince.