Note to reader: This is Chapter 2 of this series. This Chapter is a little light on action, so skip if you are after a quick fix. If you would like to see how Caera and Torven's relationship will develop, read on!
***
The next morning, Caera awoke feeling refreshed and alert. Her thoughts instantly turned to the events of the night before. Why could she not stop thinking about Torven? And what on earth had happened when she was touching herself? She had never experienced anything like that before, although she had to admit she had never really touched herself in that way, despite how much Gilaena hinted about it.
The servants came in once she rang the small bell at her bedside. The fires were swiftly stoked, fresh rushes were laid down in the floor, and a modest breakfast of dried fruits and seeded bread with butter was brought to the small table by her window. After bathing, she sat alone disinterestedly chewing her food, as she so often had since the tragedy that had taken her parents. She stared out upon the lush hills and fertile fields that made up the kingdom she currently presided over. The view was stunning, but she hardly took it in that morning as she desperately racked her brains to engineer a way in which she could once again summon Torven to the castle without it appearing obvious. Her mind wandered, and Caera found herself thinking back to the breakfasts she used to share with her parents down in the Great Hall, the table set with towering candelabras and glittering silverware. Now the Hall seemed so empty and dark whenever she entered that she could no longer bring herself to dine there.
"I'VE GOT IT!" yelled Caera suddenly, prompting a nearby servant to drop the chamberpot she was carrying.
After reassuring the poor servant girl that it wasn't her fault the pot had broken (and gratefully learning that it had not been full when it was dropped), Caera explained her previous statement to the unfortunate girl.
"We are going to hold a ball!"
***
Some weeks later, the preparations for the ball were complete, and the big day arrived. The castle itself had been completely transformed. The gloom that had set in the day she became an orphan seemed to have been lifted from the castle by her announcement that she would be holding a ball. Every corner of the castle glimmered with the light of thousands of candles, and fresh flowers adorned many a doorway and window frame. The Great Hall itself had been decked with banners of every hue, filling the place with light and colour. Tables were dotted around the edge of the Hall, laid with white tablecloths, gleaming silver tableware, and a spray of wildflowers at the centre. At the centre of the Hall the slate tiles had been scrubbed until they shone, forming a rectangle at the centre of the room where the dancing would take place. Her dais had been given over to a troupe of musicians, who even now were warming up their fiddles and flutes.
When she had told her hand maidens of her intention to hold a ball, she had been met with squeals of delight from Gilaena, and even Consetta had smiled at the idea.
"I just want us all to forget our worries and dance all night," said Caera, when Gilaena pointed out that she had previously never showed even slightest bit of interest in balls, banquets, or bonanzas.
"Perhaps she is looking to dance with someone in particular?" said Consetta teasingly.
"Maybe a certain knight from Huntsmark?" added Gilaena.
Caera blushed beetroot red saying "I don't know what you mean" quite unconvincingly.
"Don't worry, we will make sure the two of you meet on the ballroom floor" promised Gilaena, nudging Consetta to make her nod in agreement. "Anyway, we need to choose what you are going to wear, before we go worrying about who you are going to dance with."
Choosing a dress had turned out to be quite an arduous task. As she and her two hand maidens rummaged through the royal wardrobe, they struggled to find anything suitable that Caera would wear. Caera soon realised she had not had a new gown for herself since she was 12, preferring either to wear her mother's hand-me-downs, or where possible wearing practical clothes suited to riding and hunting. The only decent dress of hers that actually fitted was the blue one she had worn for the Oaths Ceremony, and Consetta reliably informed her that she would be laughed out of court if she turned up in the same dress again. Despite thinking that was a slight exaggeration, Caera knew she wanted to dress to impress so she steeled herself and committed to the tedious task of trying on countless dresses to find the perfect outfit.
"We need to maximise your assets, Caera" said Gilaena, looking her up and down. This put Caera in mind of when Torven had first stared at her; Caera remembered how he had looked at her legs, her waist, and her breasts in turn. Turning now to look at herself in the mirror, she was struggling to see what assets might have caught Torven's eye.
"What exactly are my assets, Gilly?" pleaded Caera in desperation, eyeing the growing pile of dresses that had been rejected.
"You've really got no idea? Goodness me Caera, you have a stunning body, has nobody ever told you?" Gilaena looked at her incredulously.
"Well, that's not exactly what people normally say to a Princess, it's always 'How do you do your highness' or 'wonderful day today, m'lady.'"
"I suppose so. Well, someone needs to tell you. You've got beautiful long legs, a pert bottom, and your tits aren't half bad either."
"Much better than my bum," agreed Consetta.
"Alright..." said Caera hesitantly, "are these the things that men might like?"
"Are you kidding me?" guffawed Giseala, "They should be queuing up to have a dance with you, but you always stuff yourself away in those smelly riding breeches"
"Or worse those dresses that went out of fashion even before your Mother passed them on to -- " Consetta stopped abruptly as she realised she had gone too far.
"It's OK, Con," smiled Caera, "Most of those dresses are hideous. How about this one?"
"I think that could work, with a few adjustments," said Gilaena, with a mischievous glint in her eye.
***
A few hours later, the seamstresses had finished with the dress and it was ready for Caera to try on. Giseala finished fastening the small golden clasp, then stepped away to take in the final result.
"Wow!" she exclaimed "You look stunning."
Despite her reservations, Caera turned to face the mirror. A gorgeous young woman looked back at her, resplendent in a shimmering emerald gown. The dress started with a simple v-shaped neckline, but where previously it had been modest, Caera had given in to Gilaena and deepened how far it plunged. The whalebone beneath gently lifted her breasts, creating a smooth cleft that she hoped would once again capture Torven's attention. The dress was hemmed with intricate golden swirls, sparkling with every flicker of candlelight. The dress cinched in tight at the waist, accentuating the gentle curve just below. Caera felt that her bottom jutted out alarmingly with such tightness above, but Gilaena assured her that's exactly what Torven would be looking for. The dress tumbled down her legs, almost down to her ankles, but a generous slit up the side revealed plenty of her left leg, leaving a tempting trail of flesh from ankle to mid-thigh. The dress scooped low across her back, exposing yet more pale flesh. The exposed back was covered with a thin golden mesh, clipped together by an intricate golden fastening
"Are you sure it's not too much?" pleaded Caera.
"That's EXACTLY what you need to keep his eyes on you, and you alone," said Gilaena.
"Well, if his eyes don't pop out," sniffed Consetta.
Caera just rolled her eyes at Consetta, saying "How exactly do I get out of this thing?"
Then night of the ball arrived, with hundreds of guests and dignitaries arriving through the day, pitching billowing canvas tents on the sprawling lawn before the castle. Watching from the window of her tower, Caera felt a small flutter of excitement as she saw the Boar of Huntsmark extend above one of the gently swaying tents. With just a few hours left to go until the ball started, Caera rang the bell at her table. Gilaena and Consetta entered to help her squirm into her dress and applied the briefest touch of colour to her cheeks, lips, and around her eyes. When the jingle of the musicians started to echo through the corridors, Caera steeled herself and headed down to the Great Hall.
Flanked by her trusty ladies-in-waiting, Caera nodded to the doormen to swing the doors open, and timidly entered the Great Hall. Right on cue, Berfard hailed her entry, saying "Her majesty, the Princess Caera" in his scratchy warble. A collective gasp echoed round the hall, as the assembled guests took in her appearance. Goblets of wine paused halfway to lips, conversations halted mid-sentence, and one pair of ice-grey eyes were glued to Caera. The ladies of the kingdom had attended the ball in their finery, but none could compare to Caera's captivating radiance.
Waving hastily to the minstrels to indicate they should start playing again, Caera hastily walked towards the nearest friendly face, Lord Hanley of Greenwater.
"You certainly look...beautiful, my Lady" said Lord Hanley, seemingly struggling to know where to look. Settling for an area somewhere in the middle of Caera's chin, he asked "Will you be dancing this evening?"
"I certainly hope so!" replied Caera, uncomfortably aware that many of the men (and some of the women) were still greedily staring her. "I think we shall get started now."
Putting on a show of confidence, she strode over to Berfald and whispered into a whiskery ear.
