The sweetest sounds I'll ever hear...

Christopher rather unsuccessfully stifled a yawn behind his white-gloved hand. He was a prince, after all, which meant he was always expected to look presentable. Not to mention his mother would strangle him with her bare hands if she ever caught him looking painfully bored at court. Honestly, the night hadn't even started yet, and already poor Christopher felt as if he could pull out all his hair strand by strand. The court herald was only getting to the royal introductions at this very moment, and introductions in the kingdom of Partia took quite the while... and that was putting it lightly.

"His Majesty King Maximilian Godfrey Ladislaus Leopold Sidney Frederick John, with his beloved wife, Her Majesty Queen Constantina Charlotte Ermentrude Guinevere Lorna Marguerite Anne!" the herald called, followed by the loud blaring of trumpets.

Christopher watched as his parents strolled to the center of the ballroom, his mother's arm linked lovingly with that of his father's, but the young prince knew it was only for show. Everything at court was only for show. Again, Christopher wrestled with the effort of suppressing yet another impolite yawn, and groaned inwardly. He knew the herald's introductions were still far from over.

"His Royal Highness, first-born son of Their Majesties, Benjamin Arthur Abelard Chadwick Dashiell Geoffrey Langston Matthew Zachary David Simon George!" the court herald announced to yet another trumpet fanfare.

Soon thereafter, Christopher's perfect older brother followed their parents' suit, making his way to the center of the ballroom all prim and proper, as usual. The man had no flaws! Now that was annoying, but not as annoying as the fact that women fell all over him... threw themselves at him even. Christopher simply rolled his eyes at all the beautiful young ladies who not so subtly fawned over the Crown Prince. What was so spectacular about Ben? Christopher wondered. His dear brother wasn't any better looking than he was, and no girl ever hung on his every last word.

There was still one last announcement to complete... Christopher's introduction. It was in fact an age-old Partian tradition to name a newborn child, specifically a royal child, after his ancestors that came before him. This of course meant, after each generation, the names grew longer, and longer. Christopher absolutely dreaded to see the name Ben's first child would inherit. Unfortunate little tyke.

Finally, the herald croaked his name, "His Royal Highness, second son of Their Majesties, Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir Carl Alexander Francois Reginald Lancelot Herman Gregory James!"

Christopher forced a polite smile upon his face, and waved to the crowd as was expected of him. Then, the prince grudgingly walked to the middle of the ballroom, not too fast, but also, not too slow. Christopher didn't want to mortify his mother, now, like he had at the last ball. The prince shuddered at the memory of it. There was no way on God's green Earth that his mother would ever let Christopher live that incident down. But it wasn't his fault! How was he supposed to know that Duke de Kern was actually Duchess de Kern? The blasted woman had a mustache! And she was seated at the far end of the dining table, directly opposite him. The gaudy centerpiece obscured half the duchess' face, and concealed her evening's attire. If only Christopher could have seen the woman's expensive satin ball gown. At least then he would have known! He could hardly wait for the formalities to end for the evening; maybe then Christopher could slip into a dark corner, unnoticed.

As Prince Christopher joined his family on the dance floor, the herald and the trumpeters left the royals to themselves, and the king commenced into one of his infamous long-winded speeches to the adoring public. There was nothing Christopher could do at the moment, save smile and daydream, until his father finally finished his address. He'd survive the boredom... somehow.

"A-hem," a voice soft as warm butter, nipped at his earlobe, "I want you on your best behavior tonight, Christopher. There are many important people present at this ball, and your brother just might find his future bride."

Ben's future bride. That was the true reason behind these balls his mother hosted roughly every three or four months. The Crown Prince was already two and twenty years old, and still a bachelor. Meaning, the king and queen wanted him married off and producing heirs.

"Mother," Christopher gasped in a hushed tone, "are you insinuating that I am ill-behaved? Why, I have never been more insulted in all my life!"

"Just ensure that there will be no trouble from your end tonight, Christopher," the queen sounded exasperated, "your very best behavior."

And that was it. Christopher knew he wasn't going to get another word out of his mother, so there would be no point irritating the woman any further, unless the prince wanted to waste precious time and breath... which he did not.

"And now, friends, it is time for us all to enjoy the ball," his father finished.

Thank the Lord in Heaven. Christopher thought, readjusting his pristine white gloves, so that they fit snugly over his fingers. The prince only needed to make sure his face was seen for about a half hour or so, and then he could make an unnoticed escape.

The younger prince retreated to a dimly lit corner of the ballroom, biding his time. It was still far too early to leave the festivities without rousing his mother's suspicions. He would have to wait just a tad longer, before he could make his move. In the meantime, Christopher studied his brother. The Crown Prince waltzed with the seemingly endless stream of eager young women. His brother was like a new toy to these women, all awaiting their rightful turn with him. Christopher watched some more as his older brother glided about the dance floor with random girl, after random girl. Honestly, Christopher couldn't understand how Ben managed to keep his composure. Always calm. Always witty. Always charming. The man was perfection incarnate.

Prince Christopher could hear the flirtatious laughter emitting from a particularly giddy young maiden, and Ben, ever light on his feet, whirled her across the ballroom in graceful circles. Now, Christopher was quite the good dancer himself, but Benjamin was excellent, and it showed in his every movement. Christopher wanted to hate his brother. Verily, he craved to hate the man, but truthfully Ben hadn't an unlikable bone in his body; he was so good-natured. Of course he was, Benjamin was perfect. Although, Christopher noticed his brother was not perfectly at ease this evening. Naturally, the girl was smitten with the Crown Prince, and although Ben was smiling, Christopher could tell his brother was faking. He could see through an insincere smile from a mile away. It was a pretty façade hiding from view Ben's true emotions, whatever they might be.

However, Christopher did not have an opportunity to analyze Benjamin any further, as he was tapped unexpectedly on the right shoulder. Turning to face the tapper, Christopher's heart immediately gave a leap from fright. Initially, the prince thought he had come face to face with a sort of ugly troll, but as his senses returned, the prince realized that he was in the company of a young... er... maiden. She was a little on the plump side, with hair orange as pumpkin spice done in the style of a beehive. Astoundingly, young Christopher was temporarily rendered speechless.

Remembering his manners, Christopher tucked his right arm behind his back and bowed to the young lady who in turn lifted her dress into a terribly ungraceful curtsy. Her gown, Christopher noted, was the most ghastly shade of green he had ever seen. Ever.

"Good evening, Your Highness," the maiden greeted him politely, though her unnaturally high-pitched voice was cringe worthy.

"Yes, Good evening, Miss..."

"Prudence," answered the orange haired girl.

"Ah, what a lovely name," Christopher lied, and apparently Prudence bought into it completely, as she giggled ferociously, "would you care to dance?"

The prince did not wait for the girl to reply, before he swept her into a moderate paced waltz. Did Christopher want to dance with Prudence? Good gracious no, but it was time for him to make his escape, and Prudence was going to help him.

'Lovely' Prudence stepped hard on Christopher's toes, but he did his best to ignore it, "You dance divinely."

The prince choked back an undignified snort, and inconspicuously began to move the girl off the dance floor and toward the nearest exit.

"Your Highness," Prudence began, "might I make a personal remark?"

"Why, of course, love," the prince replied, only really half listening to the maiden.

"Splendid weather we're having," Prudence delivered lamely.

Christopher purposely missed a step in his dance, to make it seem like he was offended, "Now, that is a personal remark!"

"Oh," the girl fretted, "my mother warned me not to make a personal remark. She warned me!"

"Then I shall send you directly back to your mother," Christopher stopped dancing altogether, and twirled the girl around, so that she spun like a top, back towards the dance floor.

The prince shook his head at the absurd encounter, and quickly exited to the veranda. Christopher was immediately hit by the chill night air, which was typical for early October, and he had to admit he was disappointed. The moon was totally obscured by dark clouds, and there wasn't a single star in the night sky. How bland. Christopher removed his horn rimmed glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This night was going to drag on for hours, he just knew it. With one heavy sigh, Christopher replaced his glasses, and climbed onto the railing of the veranda. He used to balance on the railing all the time when he was a boy, that was, when is mother wasn't watching. Of course, Christopher was roughly one hundred pounds lighter at the time, but that tiny fact didn't matter. Christopher had excellent balance! Spreading his arms to his sides, Christopher walked to the opposite end of the railing. Easy. Christopher thought. He could afford to be a little braver now. Christoper made a spinning jump, but didn't quite catch his footing upon landing, and one of his boots slipped off the railing. Where the prince should have plummeted to his untimely death, landing in the courtyard stories below, he instead felt a sure, strong hand pulling him back to the safety of the veranda by his starched shirt collar.

"Always the daredevil, little brother," Benjamin's unamused voice sounded from behind him.

Christopher turned to face his older brother, who had just saved his miserable life. Wonderful. There was another item he could add Ben's list of perfectness.

"I slipped," Christopher defended himself, "it could have happened to anyone."

"When most people go out to the veranda, they don't climb atop the railing," Ben countered, and Christopher knew he was right.

The two brothers stood in silence for a moment, both propping their elbows on the veranda. Although they were three years apart in age, the two looked almost like twins... with a few minor differences. Christopher was tall at an even six feet, but Benjamin towered three inches above him. Christopher had a simply dazzling smile, and Benjamin possessed the very same smile, only with deep-set dimples that made women swoon in droves. And lastly, both brothers had expressive hazel eyes, though Christopher's were hidden behind his glasses. Benjamin, however, had perfect vision... all the court physicians agreed.

"I think you shall be missed at the dance, Ben," Christopher remarked, smirking at how his brother cringed at the shorted form of his name. He absolutely hated being called, 'Ben', which drove Christopher to use the nickname religiously.

"I needed a break, and some fresh air," Benjamin answered, "and it was a good thing too, or you'd be a bloody, splattered mess."

"True," Christopher acknowledged, "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"No," his brother replied sourly.

"Enjoying the ball, Ben?"

"What do you think?"

Christopher chuckled, "Remember when all of us children weren't allowed to attend theses sort of events. We would beg mother and father let us in."

"Mmm," his brother nodded, "I recall that one night I sneaked downstairs and swiped three cherry tarts from the banquet table. When Mother discovered us all with red and sticky cheeks... you took on all the blame."

"Speaking of Mother, she has got to be searching high and low for you right now," Christopher warned, "do you wish to evoke the woman's wrath?"

"I think, if I have to dance with another one of those gold digging creatures called women, I shall forfeit my sanity," Ben answered with thick disdain.

"Tell me, Ben," Christopher began, "with all the girls you've danced with these last few months, not a single one of them has caught your eye?"

"They're all the same," the Crown Prince groaned, throwing his arms up in the air, "money, hair, and dresses. That's all they care about!"

"Well, you can't put off tying the knot forever," Christopher remarked, "as heir to the throne, you can't be a thirty year old bachelor."

"Now you sound like mother," teased Ben.

Christopher let out a genuinely affronted gasp, "There's no need to go spitting insults, now, Ben."

"I think she has her hopes set on making Lady Emmaline of Torrie my bride," frowned Benjamin, "she's about as dull as they come."

"So, you don't intend on taking Lady Emmaline as the future Mrs. Benjamin Hammerstein, then?"

"Not if I can help it," snorted Ben.

"Well, Mother can't choose the woman you're going to marry for you!" Christopher laughed.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Benjamin argued, and suddenly changed the subject, "why aren't you in there dancing with girls?"

"Mother has expressly forbidden it," Christopher answered his older brother solemnly, "she has made it perfectly clear that they are all reserved for you... the pretty ones, that is."

"Well, I can't have them all!" Ben shrieked, "A man can only have one wife, and you'd be doing me a favor... believe me."

The two brothers returned to silence once again, staring out over the courtyard, Christopher's thoughts drifting. Then finally...

"I suppose I should be getting back now," Ben sighed, "I owe a certain Prudence a dance."

Christopher shuddered at the name, and silently wished Ben luck. He was going to need it.

At the end of a long night, Christopher was left with the likes of his parents, bidding farewell to the guests that decided to straggle. Christopher despised keeping up appearances. Truthfully, he could not care less if he never saw any of these people ever again. Only, where was Ben? The ball was being held in his honor, after all. If Christopher had to suffer through these plesantries, why shouldn't Ben? Life was so unfair.

"Father, where is Ben?" Christopher asked, his words disguised behind a large, toothy grin. He had brilliantly white teeth, although Ben's were slightly whiter.

"Benjamin fell ill, and retired to his quarters for the evening." the king answered, behind a toothy grin of his own. Perhaps that was where Christopher had learned it.

Well that was a flat-out lie! Christopher was with his brother earlier this evening and Ben seemed perfectly healthy! This was a travesty! They had taken oaths as children to always stick together! It was all of them against mother and father! Yet, Ben choose to disregard said oath. That simply wouldn't do. Christopher fully intended to give Benjamin a piece of his mind.

As Christopher kissed the hand of the last heiress, he excused himself and headed directly to Ben's quarters. Of all the nerve, leaving him behind to deal with both the guests and their parents... alone! Some big brother he was!

The prince was fuming throughout his trek to his brother's room. Christopher grumbled to himself as he ascended the great winding staircase, and turned left passing rows of armored suits lining the corridors. He was so incredibly upset, the young prince nearly forgot to twice tap the colorful hanging tapestry, a tradition he and Ben had started nearly three years in the running now. Finally, Christopher reached the Crown Prince's door, and was just about to knock, when he realized the door was already slightly ajar, and voices streamed out the dark crack.

"I can't take much more of this, Benjamin," a sad, familiar voice began, "it isn't fair to me."

The voice sounded an awful lot like Edwin, the son of Lord Kellington, an adviser to his father. Edwin was Ben's best friend; the two were nearly inseparable. Christopher didn't have any clue as to what they were talking about, but for privacy's sake, he decided to leave and return later.

"You know my feelings for you, Edwin," his brother spoke, in a soft, tender voice. Christopher stopped dead in his tracks.

No. He must have been hearing things out of context. There was no way... Christopher wanted to leave immediately, but his feet wouldn't obey him, and the prince inched closer to the door.

"It kills me to see you dancing with all those girls. You know that." Edwin's voice cracked, in unmistakable hurt.

There were some more whispers that Christopher couldn't quite make out, so he slowly leaned his body against the door frame, thinking he might possibly hear better, when... creak.

The door was unexpectedly pushed open, and there in the darkness stood his brother and Edwin kissing passionately.

"Oh, dear Lord," Christopher whispered.

His words disturbed the two lovers. Breaking their kiss, they quickly jumped from each other's embrace.

"Christopher," breathed Ben, a whole host of emotions contained within that single word.

Ultra Special Blah Blah Blah

This story is inspired by Rodgers and Hammerstein's endearing musical, Cinderella (1957, 1965, and 1997).

Getting to know you,

xJadeRainx