The Coming Out Ball

     “Where is she?” she asked the chamber’s only occupant.

     The Purple Gelert looked up from the book he was reading. He could not have been much older than thirty, but had a refined air to him that spoke of knowledge beyond his years. He was dressed in a fine green suit with a matching cravat. Though, aside from the book, nothing else in the room belonged to him. He glanced briefly at the open fireplace he was sat by before answering.

     “Who?”

     The maid frowned.

     “Master Seradar, please don’t play games,” she scolded him. “The King will have my guts for garters if she isn’t there on time. Today is too important. She must be there, sir.”

     Seradar gave an apologetic smile.

     “You are quite right, Helene,” he said. “I apologise.”

     He stood from his chair by the fire and stepped towards the flames, rubbing his fingers together and charging some brief magic. The fire roared green briefly, before returning to its normal colour. A moment later, a shadow in the far corner of the chamber took form, bleeding into colour as an Acara stepped into the room. She was yellow, and wearing a fine white gown over her fur, that sported a few fresh mud stains.

     “Helene, really,” the Acara said cheerily. “I should hardly consent to be late to my own coming out ball.”

     Rather than relief, the Poogle took one look at the mud stains on the gown and let out a shriek, rushing forward to try and clean them off.

     “Princess! Where on Neopia have you been!?” she demanded.

     “Shadow Gulch, in the Haunted Woods,” the Acara replied. “I needed some supplies for a spell Seradar, and myself are going to attempt tomorrow.”

     “And you wore the dress!?” Helene protested. “Oh, Princess, how could you? It is ruined! Your father will be furious!”

     The Acara gently pushed the Poogle back to cast a brief spell that melted the stains away as if they had never been there.

     “Happy?” she asked. “Helene, you are a superb lady’s maid, and a wonderful friend, but you worry far too much. Go and inform my father and my brothers that myself and Master Seradar will be along presently.”

     Helene nodded obediently and disappeared back through the door. Seradar waited until she was gone to speak.

     “You use me as an excuse far too frequently, Brigid,” he said, straightening out his waistcoat. “You know full well we have no plans to cast any spells tomorrow.”

     “Well I have plans,” she replied. “And you are welcome to join me in them, of course. Father worries if you aren’t there to oversee me.”

     “Not any longer,” Seradar said, getting a confused look from Brigid. “This is your debutante ball, Princess. You are a Lady now, not a child. Your father brought me here from Brightvale to teach you magic. Both you and I know I taught you all I would ever need to years ago, but now it is official. A Princess that has stepped out into the world has no more need of teaching. Tomorrow, I shall be leaving the castle. Returning to Brightvale. My door is always open to you as a friend, of course, Brigid. But you can use me as a shield against your father no longer.”

     Brigid frowned, but gave him a nod all the same. She knew Seradar well enough to know his council should rarely be ignored.

     “They will be waiting, Princess,” he added.

     Together, they made their way down from the royal apartments to the castle’s ground floor. At the foot of the grand staircase, they found the royal party waiting. Brigid’s brothers, Skarl and Hagan, were wearing their formal uniforms, a ridiculous number of medals on both their lapels and enough tassels on their shoulders to sink a few ships. Their father, King Bjorn, wore a frown at Brigid’s lateness that could have sunk a few itself. The Red Skeith was dressed in his royal colours with his long cape and crown that he wore for all formal occasions.

     Seradar provided a customary low bow and peeled off to join the assembled masses in the ballroom ahead of the royal party.

     “We were beginning to think you weren’t coming,” the King said gruffly.

     Brigid smiled and linked arms with her father as they walked towards the great doors that led to Meridell castle’s grand ballroom.

     “You know better than to worry about me, father,” she said. “When have I ever let you down?”

     Bjorn looked at her.

     “Was that rhetorical?” he asked. “You were off adventuring again, weren’t you? I worry for you, Brigid. I worry for you all. I am not as young as I once was, and all I can ever hope for you is that you are safe. You and your brothers. They will need you, Brigid. I am sure of it.”

     “I am never in any danger,” Brigid replied. “Seradar trained me well. And you need to give Skarl and Hagan more credit.”

     The doors to the ballroom ahead of them opened inward, and a trumpet heralded their arrival. The guests inside, some several hundred in number, all turned in expectant silence.

     The herald, a Green Techo with a voice that carried miles on a good day, stood in the doorway.

     “His Royal Majesty, King Bjorn the Fourth of Meridell!” he announced. “Accompanying him, Crown Prince Skarl, the Duke of Cogham, Prince Hagan, Duke of Lightwater, and Princess Brigid, Duchess of Hope River!”

     The trumpets played the royal ascent as the King strode into the hall. The courtiers all made their customary bows and curtsies, but all eyes were on Brigid. This was her ball, after all. Her official presentation to high society. It was no secret that King Bjorn was hoping to find a suitable match for her, and as a daughter of the King she was a keenly watched celebrity even in her youth.

     Brigid felt the eyes on her, and didn’t like it all that much. The ceremony of royal life had never been something she was fond of. As she parted arms with her father, she took a deep breath. The first of the guests were already moving to greet her. It was going to be a long night.

     ***

     Lord Berkenstock was a handsome young Wocky from a good family at Shadowglen House. He couldn’t be much into his twenties and, Brigid knew after agreeing to his initial request, was an excellent dancer.

     He was also, unfortunately, incredibly dull. Brigid had suffered through ten minutes of the man’s best attempt to explain the details of lower field drainage and was beginning to think she might fall backwards into sleep at any moment.

     She was saved by a gentle hand on her shoulder and a low cough aimed at the Wocky.

     “May I cut in?” the voice of Prince Hagan asked. “I apologise, Lord Berkenstock, but I really must have a word with my sister.”

     Lord Berkenstock looked mildly put out, but the rules of social hierarchy meant he dared not protest against the request of a Prince. He smiled and moved away to make conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Market Town.

     “You looked like you needed saving,” Hagan said, a mischievous grin breaking out behind his neatly trimmed blonde beard. The Skeith, much like his elder brother Skarl, was still slim, but the signs of the family tendency towards plumpness were starting to show.

     “Thank you,” Brigid said.

     “But I do need to speak with you,” Hagan added. “I have just been having a most enlightening conversation with the Faerie Illusen. She tells me she has been helping you source magical supplies and, scandalously, make contacts in Faerieland.”

     “And?”

     “You are planning on leaving, aren’t you?” Hagan said. “There’s no use denying it, the evidence speaks for itself.”

     She touched his arm gently.

     “I’m not leaving you, Hagan,” she said. “Nor Skarl, or father. It is nothing personal. But Meridell is a small place, and the castle smaller still. There is a world out there, and I simply must see it.”

     “I’m not blaming you,” Hagan said. “I intend to follow you.”

     “Pardon?” Brigid asked, startled.

     “Oh, not directly follow you, of course,” he corrected himself. “But to follow in your metaphorical footsteps. Skarl is raised for the crown. I am raised to be the spare, and Skarl is as fit and healthy as a King has need to be. There is little for me here in the castle. I do not wish to live my life in the shadow of another. I thought I might try Brightvale. You know they have the curious tradition of advancing individuals in societal standing by their intelligence? Why, a person wise enough may even be named their new King.”

     “You would make a fine King of Wisdom,” Brigid said with a genuine smile. “But father would miss you. Skarl doubly so.”

     Hagan gave her a look at that. The fights the brothers would get into were legendary.

     “He would,” Brigid maintained. “You two play at fighting each other, but if you were to ever truly fall out, you would both be the lesser for it. You two have been joined at the hip for as long as I can remember.”

     “Perhaps,” Hagan said. “But Brightvale is not so terribly far. And I might remind you that if Skarl and father would miss me, they would miss you all the greater. If that should stay my hand, perhaps it should stay yours too.”

     “You’re not King of Wisdom yet, brother,” she said with a smile. “But thank you for the advice.”

     With that she left him, heading out of the great windows of the ballroom towards the balconies that looked down on the castle gardens. Some of the younger courtiers were down there, playing games of hijinks amongst the topiaries. Such games were now forever lost to Brigid. She was a Lady now, and her time in Meridell would always be beset by the expectations that she act like one. Her adventures to far flung lands, which she had begun as soon as Seradar had taught her a rudimentary teleportation spell, were tolerated when she was still considered a child. But not now. And though she planned to leave, she knew that her position would always tether her there. There was no escaping home, not really. She would always be drawn back by duty.

     She let out a deflated, resigned sigh, and completely startled a green Kau that had been similarly daydreaming at the other end of the balcony, and had clearly thought she was alone.

     She wore a dress that had clearly been selected for her, in a darker shade of green than her skin, though it appeared she had done her best to make her long masses of blonde hair hide her face. Brigid knew at once she had been trying to escape the ball, and the blush she gave at being discovered only served to confirm it.

     “Oh my!” the Kau apologised. “I’m sorry, your Highness, I didn’t mean to intrude!”

     She moved to return to the ballroom. Instinctively, Brigid put a hand on her arm to stop her.

     “No need to apologise to me,” she said. “By the looks of things, you needed the escape as much as I. Formal parties are very much not my thing. Do you agree?”

     “Never more,” the Kau agreed. “I have had to dance with all three of the Gravemark brothers. My mother cannot speak their praises enough, but she declined to mention that they all have the rhythm of a Geb.”

     Brigid’s eyes lit up at the mention of such an exotic Petpet.

     “You have seen them before?” she asked. “Gebs, I mean.”

     “Oh no,” the Kau replied. “Only in books. My mother has kept me very closeted, I am afraid to say. I should very much like to see one, though, one day. Though I don’t imagine that should be possible if my family arranges a match with the Gravemarks. They are in wool, you know?”

     Brigid didn’t. Her father’s ambitions for her would not countenance any match without a title, let alone someone who worked a trade. Brigid didn’t think she had ever spoken to the Gravemark brothers. Perhaps, from their descriptions, that was all the better.

     “Is that why I have not met you before?” she asked instead. “That you have not been attending balls?”

     “Oh my!” the Kau gasped again. “I’m so sorry, I never even introduced myself! Look at me harping on to a Princess without even being presented. I am Kirsten Treepippit. Lady Kirsten Treepippit, of the Rambles.”

     The Rambles was an estate on the road to Cogham. Not high Meridell nobility but names nevertheless Brigid was familiar with.

     “You are Countess Greta Treepippit’s sister then?” she asked.

     “Oh yes,” Kirsten confirmed. “Though she is to be Countess Greta Mayfeather Treepippit once she is married. Count Mayfeather wanted her to take his name, but Greta would hear nothing of it. Mother often despairs that she has raised two stubborn children, but in truth, I think she would not have it another way. Greta is determined to modernise the estate. Oh gosh, look at me rambling on again, I apologise, Princess.”

     “Not at all,” Brigid said. “And please, you do not need to call me Princess. Brigid will do just fine.”

     Kirsten blushed at that again.

     “Thank you, Brigid. Then you must call me Kirsten. It may seem presumptuous, but if you are hiding out here, might you permit me to join you?”

     “Nothing would make me happier,” Brigid agreed.

     Together, they leaned over the balcony. Brigid could not have said how long they stayed there, talking on all manner of subjects. She found herself quite interested in every opinion Kirsten offered, and she, for her part, seemed to genuinely be awestruck by Brigid’s tales of her many adventures beyond the borders of Meridell. She seemed very learned, and more than once she interjected to reference something she had read in one of her many books.

     They were eventually interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. Brigid immediately recognised it at that of her father, but Kirsten did not, and blushed in absolute shock when she turned to see the King.

     “I do not wish to interrupt you, but I fear I need to speak with my daughter, Lady Treepippit,” King Bjorn said.

     Kirsten turned positively pale at the knowledge that the King knew her name, and silently nodded before rushing off back inside.

     “Father!” Brigid protested. “We were getting along just fine!”

     “If the King of Meridell cannot make demands of his subject, what good is the title?” Bjorn asked playfully. “Shall we have a walk in the maze? It is beautiful this time of night.”

     Brigid could hardly refuse him, and took advantage of the chance to spend even less time in the ballroom. The hedge maze in the Meridell gardens was large, and successfully muddled many visiting nobles, but such was Brigid’s adventuring spirit that she had fully mapped the thing shortly after she learned to walk. The pair of them strode hand in hand, hardly even thinking about the turns they took.

     “You know, I have missed these walks,” Bjorn confided in her. “We used to spend so much more time together, Brigid. After we lost your mother, I tried to be parent enough for the both of us. But then there were affairs of state that needed attending to, and you started your tutelage under Master Seradar. Years have passed since the days we could walk freely in the gardens. I miss those days, Brigid.”

     The Acara held tighter to her father’s arm.

     “Me too, father. But there’s no reason we can’t do those things again.”

     Bjorn looked at her.

     “Of course we can’t,” he said.

     “I may be a Lady of society now, father, but I will always be your daughter,” Brigid replied. “People can frown about it all they like.”

     Bjorn gave her a hard look.

     “You know that isn’t what I meant,” he said.

     Brigid frowned.

     “I know you are planning on leaving tomorrow, Brigid,” he said. “You really think I’m such an old fool that I wouldn’t notice? Queen Fyora sends messages, you know. It’s not difficult to read between the lines and see what you’ve been planning in her court.”

     “Father, I...” Brigid said. “It’s nothing personal. I love you, I really do. And Skarl, and Hagan. But Meridell is a small place, and I can’t be hemmed in here, I just can’t. This life isn’t for me. It never was. But you are my family, and I’ll always try to protect you. There is a big world out there and plenty of threats into to this castle. If I’m out there, maybe I can do some good. Try to make things better, safer for everyone. But most importantly, safer for you, here.”

     “A lot of words for an excuse,” Bjorn replied. “Don’t try and argue your way through this Brigid. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

     “You’re not?”

     “Of course not!” Bjorn laughed. “I learned long ago that forbidding you from doing something only sets your heart on it all the greater. Your mother and I, we always knew your fate didn’t lie in this castle. Always. We just wanted you to be safe. Only ever that, my dear, sweet little girl. That’s why we had Seradar brought here. To keep you safe as much as teach you magic. Besides, as of tonight, you are a Lady. Free to make your own choices. I’m not about to stand in your way. I just, I fear for your safety, Brigid. You are right, there are threats out there, and you will be heading straight into the maws of danger. Alone. Hagan is planning on leaving for Brightvale, you know? He thinks he hides it, but I know. You are all leaving me, and I can’t protect you when you aren’t in the castle.”

     “What if I didn’t go alone?” Brigid asked. “If I convinced Seradar to come with me? Would you give me your blessing?”

     Bjorn gave a tearful little smile and drew his daughter close, gently kissing her forehead.

     “You will always have my blessing, Brigid,” he said. “Always.”

     ***

     Brigid returned to the ballroom for an hour or so before once again getting tired of the constant advances of the nobility and retreating back to the balcony. She found Kirsten there, lost in her thoughts again.

     “Ah!” the Kau said with a start. “I hope I didn’t cause trouble with your father. My mother would never forgive me if I’d tarnished the Treepippit family name with the King.”

     “Not at all,” Brigid said, leaning over the balcony next to her. “I’ve been thinking.”

     “Oh yes?” Kirsten said.

     “I have a problem,” Brigid said. “I want to leave the castle, to travel Neopia. I can’t live here, being matched to some dull count. That’s not what I want at all. But my father will not be happy unless I have a travelling companion. And you, it seems, also have a problem. Your mother wants to make some dull match with some equally dull person from the town. And you want to see Neopia too.”

     “Yes,” Kirsten said.

     Brigid laughed. Kirsten hadn’t understood her meaning at all.

     “We could solve both our problems at once, you and I,” she added. “My father would accept my travels with a companion, and your mother wouldn’t dare refuse an invitation to be the companion of the King’s daughter. If, that is, you were willing to come with me?”

     Kirsten gasped, at last understanding.

     “Me?” she asked. “But why ever should you want to go anywhere with me?”

     “You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in quite some time, Kirsten,” Brigid said. “And, I don’t know, the idea of it. It just feels right to me. That is, if you want it?”

     Kirsten positively beamed.

     “Of course!” she said. “Of course I will go with you!”

     Brigid linked arms with Kirsten as they gazed out over the gardens, and the curious warmth that she felt in her heart did not go unnoticed by her.

     The End.