rb: Mad4hugs
thank you for being so patient with me

This is altered from the movie, so what I have written isn't exact to the story-line.

Please enjoy!

Word count: 2,356

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You weren't known as a very sociable person. Kind, yes. But sociable? The most unlikely description for you to be known by.

Your family are quite diverse with many people, which is how you became invited to the grand ball of the one and only Mr Kit. To say you were the least bit of excited to attend was an understatement. If there is one act you cannot engage well in it's dancing.

There were many faces unidentifiable to you at the ball. Your mother and father, however, seemed quite known among many of the people. They engaged in conversation and laughed as if they had known them for many years. As if they were the most excellent of friends. But you knew that this was not the case.

The greater the social status, the less was needed to compromise. Your family being of low status-- inferior to those well-known-- needed the sociability as much as possible. It was the only way to head on through the world, your mother puts it.

A hand grasps yours and tugs you away from your thoughts. As you turn back into the solidity of actuality, you see your mother excitedly smiling at you through her blue eyes.

"What is it, momma?" You asks, curious to know the reason behind her excitement.

"Your father and I have been welcomed to meet the royal family!" She excites, "You must come with us as we are greeted by them."

Shyness becomes you, but you do not hesitate in obliging to your mother's wish. As she leads you across the ballroom your father makes his way beside you. He smiles gently down at you, understanding your feeling, and a pleasantness consumes you.

It is not until you are facing the royal family does the pleasantness evaporate almost immediately.

"Please, may I introduce my wife; Mrs (Y/l/n). And our daughter, Ms (Y/n)." Your father speaks.

"It is such a pleasure." Your mother beams.

The royal family smiles at the three of you and you do your utmost to appear calm. Your hand trembles as they introduce themselves, so you hold it with your other hand to steady your nerves.

"I forgive the absence of my son, Mr Kit." Says the King, "He is already engaged."

"It is no inconvenience at all." Says your mother, smiling.

"Tell me, my dear. Do you draw?" Asks the King.

It is only but a moment before you realize he is speaking to you.

"Very poorly, my King." You reply.

"Please, dismiss the formalities. Tonight I am merely your friend."

Your mother brightens at the sound of this; her smile becoming the most prominent feature of her. It warms your heart to see her engulfed in such happiness. It has been far too long since this expression has been shown on her face.

"Ah, my son." The King delights, raising his hand, "The Prince."

Walking from behind you all steps Mr Kit. You have never seen him in person before, only seeing drawings of him or glances from a distance if he ever ventured to your hometown. The drawings seemed almost too good to be true-- a man of such handsome features-- yet you find that they are a true likeness.

"I am delighted to meet your acquaintance." He smiles.

Upon catching your eye, your heart trembles inside your chest. His eyes are striking.

"My daughter, Ms (Y/n)." Your father speaks, seeing the eye-contact you and Mr Kit are indulged in.

"A pleasure." Whispers Mr Kit, taking your hand in his and placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

A shade brighter than crimson taints your cheeks undoubtably.

"Are you enjoying the ball?" The King asks, as Mr Kit takes his stand beside him.

"Oh, it is lovely." Your mother smiles.

"Yes, a very charming reception." Says your father.

"What is it you do for recreation, Mr Kit?" You inquire, eyes never having left his.

"I am a man of entertaining activities." He speaks.

"Practice of the sword?"

"Yes, indeed. However my attention has been focused upon sport as of recently."

All life drains from your face immediately as he says the words.

"Sport?" You ask.

"Yes, hunting. It is the season." Mr Kit says.

"I do not condone such activities."

"Too intensive?"

"Inhumane."

Your mother clears her throat beside you. Your eyes cast down to the floor, understanding how outspoken that was, especially in front of the royal family. Or rather, towards Mr Kit.

"What is it you do for recreation then, Ms (Y/n)?" Mr Kit asks.

Looking up, you see how his eyes pierce. They are almost unrecognisable from the ones you had been lost in only moments ago.

"My daughter loves to read." Says your mother.

"Read?" Mr Kit repeats, "And how does that benefit your family?"

"There is much knowledge contained within books, Mr Kit." You say.

"On the contrary, I believe books to be of fictitious nature."

"Then perhaps you should read more."

This time the King is the one to clear his throat. Startled, you open your mouth to apologize, yet find that the King's focus is directed on his son. Almost immediate to the contact, Mr Kit bows his head at you.

"Forgive my rudeness." He says.

You almost have the urge to leave him without a response, until your mother grips your hand.

"You are forgiven." You say, yet openly show that you will not apologize for your actions.

From your side, you see your mother fiddling with her handkerchief. The stress you must be putting on her. You look towards the King and bow respectfully.

"It has been an honor, my King." You say, "I have been delighted at the company. Please excuse me."

The King smiles at you as your eyes focus on Mr Kit, before you turn and leave down the stairs.

"You have an enchanting daughter." The King smiles, "It is rare to find a woman of such spirit."

"I share the same thought." Your father says proudly.

Your mother, now clasping onto her handkerchief, is at a loss for words. Here she is nervous that you had offended the royal family, when in fact you had done quite the opposite. She turns to see Mr Kit watching you walk away as if in a dream.

Your hand gently caresses the rail of the staircase as you step down. The ball itself has been pleasant, but Mr Kit holds a different impression. He seemed such the gentleman at first introduction, yet transitioned into what all men are unfortunately.

People twirl around the dance floor to the tune of a mellow waltz, appearing as flower petals in the breeze. All of the women's dresses sparkle and flow gracefully, yet you feel as if your own only drapes over your figure.

Never have you thought of yourself as pretty. Appealing, yes. However it only took a few encounters with other men for you to understand that you are only of the simplest form of beauty. Not that it bothered you, of course.

As your eyes follow each person dancing, your feet circling the crowd that watches them, there is a hope within you that some man might ask you to dance with him. It is a strange hope as you are quite poor at the activity, yet is always looks so alluring.

From the corner of your eye you see a figure nearing where you are heading, so you turn your head and immediately stop so as not to impact with them.

Striking yet piercing eyes stare down at you.

"It would give me the greatest pleasure if you would give me the honor of leading you through this next dance." Mr Kit says.

It feels almost an eternity before you reply.

"You may."

Mr Kit smiles at your approval and offers his hand to you. You cannot help but maintain your gaze fixated on him as he leads you to the dance floor.

His hand gently places itself at your hip, drawing you near to him as his eyes never leave yours. Your hand slides onto his open palm by your right and Mr Kit starts to lead you through the waltz. Of such luck you happen to know the dance, which aids you in knowing where to step at which time.

Mr Kit is an exceptional partner-- always applying just the softest pressure to your hip for you to understand when he will be moving forward. His hand holding yours squeezes gently and you step back for him to spin you in a delicate motion; feeling like the flower petals you had likened to the other dancers mere moments before.

When you face Mr Kit again, his eyes are no longer piercing. They are warm and stare deep into yours. You're mesmerized by the way he looks as if you are the only one with him on the dance floor.

After he spins you once more, you notice the crowd of people which has grown. They all stare fondly at you and Mr Kit, who you now realize are the only ones dancing.

"They are all looking at you." You whisper.

Mr Kit smiles, drawing you ever closer to him-- an action that is almost taboo between two people who are not associated romantically.

"Believe me," he says, "they are all looking at you."

In a brief yet miraculous moment, Mr Kit's eyes dart down to your lips. He returns the eye-contact not even a second later, however you had seen his attempt to take your likeness without your knowledge, undoubtedly failing in his task.

"Tell me, do you dance this fondly with all women?" You ask.

"Sincerely I find I have not danced with the right partner to do so." Mr Kit replies.

"Regrettably I am a poor partner."

"Of no such thing. You enchant me, Ms (Y/n)."

"How so?" You amuse.

"You speak your mind, not fearing the response. And you are too modest in saying you are a poor dancer when incredibly it feels as if you have been dancing all your life."

"And you, Mr Kit, enchant me."

"How so?" He smiles.

"You hold your title of Prince as proud as a father of his son would, yet you hesitate in claiming the title when introduced. You too share your thoughts without fear."

"It seems we are most common, are we not?"

"Only if common relates to the traits."

Mr Kit stops leading you through the dance. His face expresses confusion in the sense of believing he was understanding your personality.

"You do not feel the same?" He asks.

"Forgive me, my Prince, as I do not understand what you mean." You say.

"We are of one mind. Yet you tell me we are opposites in this regard."

"I do not share every thought which you own. I still liken sport to inhumanity, as you liken books to useless fiction."

Mr Kit stares at you for no longer than a moment, yet with his eyes it feels much longer, then he bows respectfully and you do the same as you now realize the music of the waltz has ended.

"Forgive me if I have wasted your time." He says, then walks away.

You turn as he passes you; following his steps with your eyes. He retreats into the crowd and becomes as if a faded dream to you. An emptiness enters the pit of your stomach and you look around to see the attention of the crowd still on you.

Slipping away from sight, you make haste to exit to the courtyard. Images of the way Mr Kit looked at you flick through your mind like drawings on pages. You have never felt this way before and you wonder if he at one moment may have felt the same.

Your parents eventually found you sitting at the steps by the front of the entrance. An immediate scoulding came form your mother as she instructed you not to ruin your dress, yet your father simply offered you his hand.

After standing, they asked you many questions as to why you had fled the dance floor after having the honor to dance with the Prince. You merely explained your uncertainty in the matter and expressed your desire to return home.

As the three of you walked down the steps, a voice demanded your attention from behind. Turning, you were stunned to see the King walking over to you.

"My dear," he says, "you departed suddenly."

"I am sorry, my King." You say, bowing.

"Please," his hand raises again, "I am here as your friend. Tell me of your influence to leave so soon."

A silence hangs over the three of you on the outer steps, until you break it.

"I fear I insulted your son."

"He is insulted by many. Too involved, I always tell him."

A soft smile touches the side of your lips.

"I would be delighted if you would attend here tomorrow for breakfast; there is much I wish to discuss with you."

"She would be honored to accept!" Your mother says in your absence for a reply.

"You and your husband are welcome as well." The King smiles, "Trust me, my dear. My son is only overwhelmed by emotions he has not yet placed before."

Your father turns his head to look at you. Your mouth gapes slightly from the words of the King whilst a beating more intense hammers your heart.

The carriage you had travelled in arrives at the road below as the driver steps down to open the door. The King steps forward, takes your hand in his, and walks you to the carriage.

"Tell me, do such emotions overwhelm you as well?" He whispers.

"I am afraid to say they do." You reply.

The King smiles once more and helps you step inside the carriage. He bids farewell to your parents and maintains eye-contact with you as the carriage pulls away by the horses.

In all your life, you could never imagine attending a ball would bring you so many complications.

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Next Imagine: Bruce Wayne (Gotham).