Once upon a December

Based loosely on the movie Anastasia, because it rocks so much, and inspired by one of the songs in it: Once Upon a December

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As gold and silver chandeliers glistened above a flurry of colourful dancing figures, and men in tuxedos courted beautiful women in exceedingly expensive ball gowns only fit for those of royal blood; a certain young red haired girl wearing a purple satin dress was playing behind two empty thrones with her favourite porcelain doll.

“Celine,” the girl said to her doll, dusting its white cotton dress and fixing its curly brown hair. “When am I going to be able to dance like that?” she continued wistfully, staring longingly at the dancing couples. She had dreamed so many times of the day when she would be twirled around on the dance floor by a handsome prince.

The doll didn’t reply, and the girl didn’t expect it to, but when a boy’s voice came out of nowhere, she jumped.

“I’ll dance with you,” the voice came, and a boy of about eleven emerged from the shadows in a mini tuxedo, his black hair thick with gel and his brown eyes twinkling. The girl looked shocked, her green eyes widening. The boy smiled, showing perfectly straight teeth with a few gaps, and dimples in his cheeks.

“But we’re not allowed,” the girl replied in hushed tones. The boy chuckled.

Outside, a blanket of snow ten inches thick coated the ground, and it still continued to snow. Soon the people inside the grand palace would be snowed in, but nobody seemed to notice or care as they danced and drank the night away.

“So?” he said, holding out his hand for her to take. Nobody could see them on the podium behind a set of red curtains, and so the girl took his hand, placing the doll on the floor.

She had had dance lessons many times before, but never with a male partner, and surely not a male partner as handsome as the boy that was now only inches away from her. The girl practically held her breath. Holding a boy’s hand was something she had never done before, and never thought much of until now, when it made her heart stop. She kept her eyes on her feet, to make sure she wouldn’t step on the boy’s feet and embarrass herself too much.

“See? It’s not that hard,” the boy said as he twirled her around. The girl’s hair glistened in the light that peeped through the curtains from the ballroom. She didn’t reply, too dizzy to speak or think coherently.

Instead, she smiled; a beautiful infectious smile that spread onto the boy’s face too.

“Aria?” an elderly woman called. The girl and boy were snapped out of their reverie, and the girl gasped.

“I have to go,” she said hurriedly, and ran out of the secret hiding place behind the stage, only stopping to pick up her doll.

“Wait!” the boy said, stopping the girl dead in her tracks. She turned around to face him. “You’re Princess Aria?” he asked incredulously, the girl nodded and scrunched her eyes shut. She had been through this many times before. Girls never wanted to play with her because they were always jealous, and boys only liked her because she was a Princess. She waited for him to go and brag to his friends about dancing with the Princess when he spoke.

“I’m Lord Tristan,” he said cheerfully, and the girl opened her eyes, frowning. Nobody had ever addressed her like that before.

“Aria!” the elderly woman’s voice came again. The girl took a deep breath, turned and ran, leaving the boy alone in the dark room behind the thrones.

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed, once she had located the woman calling her name.

“There you are, my big girl,” the lady said, adorned in a beautiful white robe and pink dress. Her greying hair made her look all the more graceful in her old age. She looked at the girl with smiling eyes. “Are you enjoying your birthday?” she asked.

“Not really,” the girl replied, frowning in deep thought about the boy she danced with. “Grandmamma, why are boys so strange?” she asked the older woman, who laughed.

“When I find out, dear, I shall tell you straight away,” she replied, but the girl was not satisfied by her grandmother’s joke.

Eight years and many birthdays passed and Aria never saw Tristan again. In fact, she seldom thought about him, and then suitors started arriving asking for her hand in marriage. Every time she looked at one of them, she’d find reasons not to marry him, and then she would dismiss the suitor politely, and return to her chamber. This had worked for the past two years, from Aria’s sixteenth birthday onwards, but in three days it would be her eighteenth birthday, and her parents were getting sick of her antics.

“Aria!” her mother begged. “You have to stop this nonsense and accept a suitor!”

“Mother, I will, when the right one arrives,” Aria explained, whilst combing her long red locks in front of her large mirror.

Aria’s mother, the Queen, sighed in exasperation and exited her daughter’s large room. Aria’s old maid, Eva, shut the door after the Queen.

“She’s right you know,” Eva said. Aria trusted Eva with her life, but still, the Princess was annoyed at her trusted friend. “I want to see you settled down, married, before I die,” Eva said, trying to guilt Aria into marrying.

“You sound like my parents,” Aria said.

“Well, I practically am your parents, I raised you didn’t I?” Eva replied, changing her tone completely. She put her wrinkled, work-worn hands on her hips and looked Aria directly in the eye, silently scolding her.

“Yes,” Aria said solemnly. “But still… you know my feelings about marrying one of those pompous Princes.”

Eva looked at the Princess pleadingly, then, as an idea formed in her mind, a smile grew on her face. “I have a proposition,” the maid said, sitting on the king-size white and pink bed. “If you don’t find a husband at the ball in three days, or before, then your parents and I shall choose your husband for you.”

Aria stared at her maid with narrow eyes, and her lips grew thinner by the second. “Fine,” she agreed, moving to sit on her bed as well. Eva hugged Aria, but the Princess was busy pondering potential husbands.

In the next two days many suitors arrived, keen to catch the Princess before the ball and make a proposal. None of them caught Aria’s eye, as all of them brought magnificent gifts to beguile her with. None of them knew her, loved her, or wanted her for any reason other than the fact that she was a Princess of a vast kingdom. And so, she dismissed them all. Eva was getting anxious, despite what she knew would happen after the ball.

“Aria, are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Eva asked, the day before the ball.

“I am perfectly sure,” Aria replied. Her maid sighed and left the princess’ chamber.

That evening, many guests from far away were arriving to stay before the ball, and Aria overheard many conversations. It was hard not to, when she was staying in one of the spots of the palace that she loved, such as the gardens. In the evening, when most of the snow from the day had melted and she was in the palace gardens, she happened to over hear one particular conversation that made her listen intently.

“Oh, Agnes,” a blonde woman who looked fairly wealthy said to Aria’s mother as they walked along a gravel path wearing a large brown fur coat. “I hope this is the one.”

Aria was climbing up her favourite tree, and overheard the women from there. The blonde lady was her Aunt Diana, and was referring to Aria’s birthday.

“So do I,” Aria’s mother replied morosely, and then they were too far away for Aria to hear anything.

This ignited Aria’s fiery temper that so matched her vibrant hair, and she jumped down from the tree, in the process of which she tore her beautiful blue silk dress, creating a slit that went up to her thigh. The cold bit at her legs like fleas and aggravated Aria even more. She stormed back to the palace taking many short cuts, and some long cuts to avoid the suitors who swarmed around her like flies.

Travelling through the kitchens and servant’s quarters, Aria could handle, but once she got to the main palace hallways, she was on her guard, though she still took the ones less ventured by guests.

Once in a quiet hallway, Aria began to calm down, though she was still walking at an agitatedly fast pace, until she rounded a corner and smashed into a person coming the opposite way. Aria fell to the ground, and the grip she had on her dress loosened, bearing her paper-white legs as she lay sprawled out on the floor. Her head throbbed where it had collided with the other person’s jaw. Her green eyes flashed with anger as they looked up and saw a young man with black shaggy hair and soft brown eyes. He rubbed his jaw and moved it around whilst staring at Aria.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand to pull her up. Aria’s breath hitched in her throat, and momentarily she remembered Tristan, and how he held his hand out to her eight years ago. But Aria’s anger got the better of her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she yelled, propping herself up on her elbows. The boy glanced at her legs and the corner of his lip pulled up in a smile.

“Helping you up?” he replied, a cheeky glint in his eyes. Aria covered her legs and glared at the boy.

“I meant what are you doing in this part of my palace?” Aria sneered, emphasising the word “my”. The boy raised a dark eyebrow.

“Taking a walk,” he said, his hand still hanging in mid air. “I could ask you the same thing,” he continued, retracting his hand once he realised she wouldn’t take it.

“I don’t have to answer, because what I do in my own palace is my business,” Aria replied, not bothering to hide the venom in her voice. In a huge huff, she got herself up, and glared at the boy, keeping a firm grip on the slit she created.

“Well, Princess, you seem particularly interested in what everyone else’s business is,” the boy pointed out. Aria didn’t reply. “Not a good thing to do with your potential future husbands.”

Aria could’ve sworn he was implying something in that last statement, but didn’t continue this train of thought. It hurt her head too much to think, as it still throbbed from where it hit the boy’s jaw. Aria silently cursed, but also thanked god, that she hadn’t hit his exquisitely handsome face.

“I would care you not to advise me on how to treat the guests in my palace,” Aria replied, phrasing the sentence most politely. She was proud of herself, until he spoke.

“Oh? Well, why not, seeing as I am one myself. Feedback is always appreciated in my land,” the boy replied charmingly, smiling at Aria, which only aggravated her more by the way it made her stomach flip.

“Well it isn’t appreciated here,” she snapped, moving to walk around the boy and down the long hallway. His arm shot out in front of her, stopping her before she got around him.

“Save me a dance at the ball, Princess?” he asked, bending down and whispering in her ear. Aria’s face turned the colour of her hair. The boy’s arm was barely brushing her neck, and his breath felt warm on her cheek. She nodded, unable to speak.

The boy chuckled in a low growl and took his arm away. After a moment’s hesitation, Aria continued to walk down the hallway, in somewhat of a daze.

“See you tomorrow, Princess,” the boy called after her, and Aria couldn’t help but smile, even though she hated being called “Princess”.

The next day was hectic for Aria. Her ball gown hadn’t arrived from the royal tailor’s and the cake wasn’t ready yet either. When she was younger she was so blissfully unaware of all her birthday preparations, and Aria longed for that to be the case once more. Servants were rushing around in the servant quarters and everywhere but the guests’ quarters were in anarchy. Aria wasn’t allowed to go there though, and so instead she opted to hide in her room until the evening.

Eva wasn’t happy about this.

“You can’t stay in here all day Aria,” Eva said, pulling the princess’s covers off her bed. She had already opened the curtains fully; allowing light to stream in off the balcony, but this did not the Princess, who simply pulled the covers over her head.

“Yes I can!” Aria retorted, burying her head further into the silk blanket.

“You must get up! It’s your birthday and everything needs to be ready in time,” Eva exclaimed.

“You know I never do anything on this day, and its madness out there,” Aria said, shuddering, her red hair poking out of the blanket in a big mass of knots and tangles.

“Still, you haven’t forgotten our deal?” Eva whispered. Aria sighed and rolled her eyes.

“No, Eva, I haven’t.”

Eva smiled and patted Aria’s form. The rest of the day Aria got to stay in her room, though she had to get out of bed and get dressed. Her mother and her aunt frequently visited, to moan about the royal tailor and chef, and then to leave again. They did this every half an hour or so, and Aria had nothing to do but count their little visits.

When it was time for the ball, Aria was all dressed in her stunning emerald green birthday dress, coloured exactly to match her eyes, and the large birthday cake was all ready in the ball room, along with an array of other foods. Aria stared at her reflection in the mirror solemnly, adjusting the neckline of her dress, as Eva stuck the last of the box of pins in her hair to keep it up in a mass of loose curls. Aria winced, and Eva apologised for the millionth time. Celine, Aria’s doll, was sitting on her dressing table, staring at Aria with dusty glass eyes. The whole time that Aria’s hair was being pinned up, she stared back at it silently. She knew what Celine would say if she would talk, and a little voice inside Aria’s head was also screaming the same, but Aria just didn’t want to listen to it.

That particular night it had been snowing heavily, and the crisp air reminded Aria so much of that night eight years ago. She ignored this feeling as she entered the ballroom, where women looked at her with envy and admiration, and men waited with baited breath to dance with her. Ever eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the kingdom was there that night, and Aria couldn’t believe she had ever wished to dance with anyone at her birthdays whilst she waltzed on the dance floor with about five different men every minute. Behind the thrones where her mother and father sat, Aria swore she saw the curtains moving out of the corner of her eye. But by the time she had been twirled around again to get a good view, the movement was gone, and the curtains were stationary. Aria sighed, in fact, she sighed with every man she danced with, but this didn’t deter them in the slightest. Aria felt that even if she brandished a sword at her suitors, they would still willingly be run through by her. A smile appeared on her face as she contemplated the idea, but her current dance partner misread it and smiled back. Aria’s grin disappeared almost immediately. A massacre of men at her birthday would not go down well with the kingdom, not to mention her parents.

She curtsied to her dance partner, and he reluctantly left the dance floor. Aria felt that it was time for a break and headed outside to clear her head, and mostly because nobody else was outside either, mostly due to the thick coating of snow on everything in sight. The sky was a deep violet colour, and the snow on the ground glowed pink. It wasn’t snowing as heavily at that moment, though, so Aria didn’t have to shield her hair. Her silk shoes made dainty footprints in the snow, and subsequently became soaking wet, along with the bottom of her floor-length dress that was became a darker shade of green and a lot heavier along the hem. Aria didn’t care, not bothering to hitch up her dress at all, and ventured as far into the snow as she could, even though the air bit at her arms, face and chest like invisible bugs in the atmosphere.

The Princess didn’t know it then, but she was being followed. Just as she stopped in the snow to catch her breath, a hand was placed on her bare shoulder and she froze. Before she could turn around and face the culprit, she felt someone’s breath on her ear. It was a nice contrast to the biting cold, and she immediately relaxed. Only one person she knew would be brave enough to come that close to her, even though she didn’t know him very well.

“Happy birthday, your highness,” Tristan breathed, making puffs of smoke billow into the night and warm her cheek. “Now, how about that dance you promised me?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” Aria replied quietly, so that nobody would come else outside, though that was unlikely considering the freezing temperature. It would seem a bit strange if somebody came out and saw a boy standing far too close to the Princess for it to be considered acceptable. She turned around to face him.

“Oh well, seeing as you brought it up, why not dance with me?” Tristan asked, the heir of confidence. Aria rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“Because, we’re standing in two feet of snow,” Aria replied matter-of-factly, as if that would put him off. It didn’t.

“So?”

Aria was reminded of the day, all those years ago, when he had used that same excuse to get her to dance. It had worked once before, and this time it worked again. Aria took Tristan’s hand and he led her into some shallow snow. It crunched under their feet, and although Aria was freezing before, she felt warm in the presence of Tristan. Aria had to admit, it wasn’t quite like the time they had danced behind the thrones, it was a lot colder, and slippier, but the magical surrounding of the palace gardens frosted in pink snow like icing on a cake made up for that entirely. The snow falling from the sky caught on Aria’s eyelashes, and Tristan lifted a hand to melt them in between his fingertips. Her hair was soggy and sagging from the snow melted in it, but Aria didn’t mind. She wanted to dance in the snow forever, even if she caught her death.

After twenty minutes, it seemed like they had been dancing for twenty years. Aria couldn’t feel her feet anymore, and if Tristan had stepped on her toe and crushed it she probably wouldn’t have even flinched. She began to shiver, though, and Tristan stopped dancing when she had yawned for the tenth time.

“You’re tired,” he pointed out, chuckling as she shook her head violently in denial. It woke her up a bit at least.

“No, I’m not,” she said quietly, her head resting on his shoulder as she closed her eyes, staying completely still. Tristan would’ve thought she was dead if it wasn’t for the fact that she was shivering.

“Let’s get you inside,” Tristan laughed, picking Aria up, bridal style. If any other of her suitors even attempted this she would’ve slapped them, but the half-dead Princess didn’t complain as she wrapped her arms around his neck. In fact, she almost fell asleep in his arms, but one thing crossed her mind before she drifted off into dream land.

“Tristan?” she whispered, so quietly that Tristan barely heard her over the crunching of the snow under his feet.

“Yes Princess?”

“Will you marry me?” Aria asked, still half-asleep, though she could feel him smiling. Tristan buried his face in the mass of bright orange, wet hair.

“Yes Princess,” he repeated, and that was all Aria needed to hear.