Written for the third picture prompt challenge at tm_challenge on LiveJournal.

Azkadellia looked into the mirror, greatly pleased. She'd dressed herself; stockings, shoes, and all, and she had put on her very favorite dress. The moon shone brightly through her window- she was meant to be fast asleep, but she did not want to miss whatever special festivities her mother had planned for that evening.

All month the Queen had been preparing for this ball and Azkadellia certainly didn't want to miss it! She wasn't tired anyway, and she could go back to bed afterwards. Wouldn't her mother be proud to see how she'd dressed herself so nicely? She couldn't be angry! And how daddy would beam!

With a last smile at her reflection, Azkadellia went to her door and cracked it open. She could hear the music now, drifting through the halls- a merry orchestra playing for the paired dancers. Azkadellia smiled at the imagined image, born of her picture books. She'd never actually been to a ball before. She looked both ways and saw that no one was coming, so she stole out into the hallway and let the cheery melody guide her down the corridors and stairs and to the open doors of the ballroom.

What greeted Azkadellia's eyes was not quite like her picture books. Orbs of glowing light as well as flickering candles hung suspended by magic in the air, bathing the room in an orangey glow. An orchestra did play, and couples did dance, but every face bore a mask. Some were beautiful, with strange, crafted grace, and others made Azkadellia's lips twitch with the threat of a giggle. Some covered their wearer's faces completely, and others only partially. The young princess stepped into the ballroom and felt suddenly as though she had crossed into some other world. Hundreds of people, coupled up, seemed to glide and spin in unison like specters to the tune that carried through the air.

Azkadellia was soon frowning though. How would she ever find her mother and father? So far no one had paid her more attention than a passing glance as they spun away, the crowd seeming to move like a whirlpool, coupled spiraling in to the center, and then finding their way to the edges once more, only to be drawn back in.

She jumped then, when a hand came down firmly on her shoulder, turning and coming face to face with a deathly white face, that held black, unfeeling eyes. She gasped and pulled away, only to bump into a second white faced being. With a yelp, she jumped into the middle ground between them. How terrible they were! Dreadful ghosts that glided closer with reaching hands-

Azkadellia screamed and ran, letting the dancing spiral pull her in like a riptide. She crashed into the legs of the dancers and was followed by a wake of objections. She ignored them; she needed to get away from the wicked, dead eyed creatures- Oh, where was her mother? She let out a frightened wail, her vision blurring and her panic spiking.

"Mommy!" She cried. "Daddy!" But the music played on and Azkadellia ran on, desperate to find her parents, terrified that the white faced things pursued her. She could hardly see a thing, her eyes streaming, and then she crashed into a body, with arms that closed around her and lifted her into the air. She screamed again and kicked and she was being carried away and terrified to look into the white face she was sure she would see.

"Sh, Azkadellia, calm down," The voice that soothed was familiar and she stopped squirming to look up and have her tears gently rubbed away as she was carried from the ballroom. "It's only me." And the concerned and faintly puzzled brown eyes that looked at her, framed by a black and red mask were instantly recognizable. Ambrose.

He sat down on the stairs and drew off the mask, looking at the little girl who now sat in his lap. "You should have been in bed hours ago, Azkadee," His tone remained soothing and he brushed away a few more of her tears.

"I w-wanted to- to see the ball," Azkadellia tried to explain between gulps of air.

Ambrose nodded, the hints of confusion leaving his eyes so only the concern remained. "You're all right, take a deep breath," Azkadellia nodded and did as the advisor said. "Did someone hurt you?" His tone became very serious.

"N-no-" Azkadellia shook her head. "th-there were monsters," She sniffled.

"Monsters?" Ambrose murmured with a frown. "Oh," The frown became a slight grimace.

"They had all white faces and black eyes like coal!" They were still in there! Would the other guests be safe?

Ambrose hugged her lightly too him. "Those weren't monsters, princess, they were only men."

"But-" Azkadellia started to protest, but then Ambrose was holding up his mask and placing it into her hands.

"They were only masks. On the more frightening side, to be sure, but masks."

Azkadellia looked at the mask she now held and frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm fairly certain." His tone was gentle.

Azkadellia relaxed, though she wondered why anyone would ever put on such a scary face.

"Are you alright?" Ambrose asked after a few moments, and Azkadellia nodded.

"I'm ok…"

Ambrose nodded as well, then got up, lifting her. "I think it's well past your bedtime, princess." He rebalanced her then started up the stairs.

"Are all balls really like that?" Azkadellia questioned, turning the mask over in her hands.

"Oh, no. Masked balls are more exception than rule." At Azkadellia's unsure look, he rephrased. "Masks are only worn once and a while."

He pushed her door open and set her down on her bed, finally taking a good look at her. "Did you get dressed up on your own?"

Azkadellia nodded. Ambrose smiled thinly.

After paying her compliment on her fine job, he went out into the hallway, the door closed quietly behind him. He leaned against the wall, listening to the music that drifted up from the ballroom, and waited for the princess to open the door again, ready to be tucked in.

He drew the blankets up to Azkadellia's chin and patted her cheek. "Goodnight, Azkadee," He smiled. "Have lovely dreams."

Azkadellia gave a little nod, nestling into her pillow. "You're sure they were only masks?" She asked again, sleepily.

"I'm sure." Ambrose gave her shoulder a light, comforting squeeze. "Sleep well, princess."

And , comforted, she did.