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SIMONE ASHLEY as KATE SHARMA BRIDGERTON (2020) | s02 ep07 'HARMONY'

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Lily James as Cinderella CINDERELLA (2015)

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               Hues followed as a single finger crossed an ' x ' over her bosom. Every ounce of himself wanted to believe her. That she would pick one up right after him and pop it right in her mouth to be able to enjoy the delectable treat that had been selected for the ball. But another part of him knew that not all promises were kept, especially between strangers. ❝I shall keep you to your promise,❞ he swore, as if he had any control over the matter. Only after his declaration did fingers pop the tiny treat between his lips. The portions, as he was saddened by, were tiny. It was not long before the delectable treat was gone and the taste felt faint in his mouth. ❝I believe the treats from last season were better.❞ He dared to offer, though quietly to keep such an opinion between the pair. ❝Now, it is your turn.❞

the corner of her mouth quirked at the gesture, twitching with hopeless amusement as she pressed her teeth into the pillow of her lower lip to bite back a grin; to withold the loud, attention-grabbing sound of laughter that wanted to spill. " pity, i am quite fond of a challenge, " she mused, the soft-spoken promise enough to win her over ( though she had already decided she was going to sample one with or without his observant gaze ). stepping closer to the table, so much so that the bones of her hips were practically rested against the elegant table cloth, she nudged the tray towards him with the tips of unpainted fingers.

daniela then looked expectantly between him and the tray, wondering if the gesture would be enough for him to realize she had accepted his bargain. however, to further ensure the man knew she had decided to agree, the maid lifted her own finger and crossed an ' x ' over her right bosom. " i promise , my lord, that if you sample one . . . i will sample one as well . " her other hand, however, had disappeared and was now tucked behind her back ; pointer and middle twisted together as she crossed her fingers.

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               Watching the other as her head tilted one way, and then the other, it was fascinating. He didn't know why but the movements were interesting. Taking in the sight as she seemed to contemplate his words. The male never meant any harm by it. It seemed unfair to have to wander around the ball with a tray in your hands, offering tiny treats to guests and watching them enjoy, all while you were not allowed to taste them yourself. It felt sickening in his stomach. Her whispered question had a hand raising, a single finger crossing an ex over the left side of his chest. ❝I promise, I do not mean to get you in trouble or to make it feel as though this is a trap.❞ He swore to the other, this quiet promise, attempting to keep the words away from the other guests to keep from drawing attention. The insistence had the male offering a single firm nod before reaching out to take one of the treats. ❝I shall have one, but only if you have one as well.❞

her momentary ire bled into a more wholesome amusement at his words, blowing a rogue lock of long, chestnut hair from her face as she cocked her head one way, than the other, at him. was he . . . challenging her ?? daniela were not herself if she were to turn down a challenge , and even if that hadn't been his intention , his invitation to break the rules and his ' vow ' ( empty as it was ) to keep it secret was just as, if not more, tempting than the decorated finger treats themselves.

leaning forward, perhaps a bit boldly, daniela allowed her fascination and playful outlook at the matter at hand to bleed into whispered syllables. " is this a trap, my lord ?? are you looking to get me in trouble ?? " yet, despite the accusatory question, the maid grinned. chocolate eyes found themselves dropping to the tray between them, the hue of the frosted pastries matching the irises that laid upon them. " i must insist you try them first. . . " she drawled, expelling a dramatic sigh as she straightened her spine once more and returned a comfortable, respectable distance between them despite the table acting as a clear and concrete divide . " your pallet is far more refined than mine, my lord, as i will undoubtedly say anything on this table taste good given as what i have to hold them to in comparison is rations and table scraps. "

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               Eyebrows quickly raised against his features. ❝To ask a betrothed lady for a dance? Alas, I would never dream of such a transgression.❞ It was difficult. Once you feel comfortable with someone, to fall back into the reclusive shell. Especially when there was not much for a reason. They simply — changed their minds. There was no dramatic duel between suitors or sizzling gossip for Whistledown. Nothing to make the change, that felt so drastic, easier. ❝I appreciate your blessings, Lady Cavendish.❞

"If I didn't know any better, Mister Davenport, I would think you're trying to ask me to dance yourself which we both know, considering my status, would be highly inappropriate." Priscilla knew that whatever the two of them had last year was far past over, but it was intriguing that he felt comfortable enough to voice such an opinion about her betrothed and, seemingly, her coming marriage. "It is my marriage, yes, and I am happy with it. I do hope that you find a suitable partner yourself this season, as there are plenty of viable options for you."

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               Considering the difference in status, he should not have been surprised by her hesitance and reaction to his jump to a conversation. Many maids he came in contact with often gave him nothing more than a nod or a shake to their heads if he dared attempt a conversation, dare blur the lines of formalities. It was unfortunate. Ellis enjoyed traveling not simply for the adventure of it but for the conversations. The passion behind words and the way souls could slip out in mysterious ways; how different and yet alike people could be. ❝The size certainly is not your fault.❞ Truly, he did not care much for the size difference. Though he had an itching theory in the back of his mind that the Queen was playing a trick on them with these proportions. Each year it felt as though they got smaller. ❝In all candor, I find it difficult to place complete trust in the palate of Kings and Queens. Pray, why not indulge in a sample? I vow to keep your secret.❞

it wasn't that daniela loathed conversation, it was that she loathed useless prattle about things that didn't matter. things such as empty and full dance cards, or the opinions on what one thought of the young, vulnerable ladies being launched into a cruel and unforgiving society. so, when the nameless man — well, he wasn't nameless; she knew him to be the youngest davenport, lord ellis — across the table took their eye contact as a means of opportunity for conversation, the irked maid took pause. her movements halted, and her lips rolled together into a fine line, eye brows lifting as if surprised the other had looked at the likes of her and found her fitting for conference.

" my apologies that the size of the queen's selection of delicacies aren't to your liking, my lord. " she wasn't sorry, not sincerely, a gleam of mirth in her gaze at the sight of him bowing his head. daniela cast a glance downwards at herself, palms moving to smooth the wrinkled fabric of her apron, a crease having settled between manicured brows. certainly he had not mistaken her for a lady — a maid was certainly not worthy of any sort of respecting acknowledgements. her pointed chin lifted once more, daniela's expression falling a bit more incredulous as he asked her if she had sampled any of the treats available, before having to laugh at the prospect.

" no, my lord, these dessert tables are for the queen's esteemed guests. i am but one of her maids, so these diminutive delicacies are not for the likes of myself." clearing her throat, stepping back from the table, daniela felt as if she had been caught in the act of a crime simply by entertaining conversation across the ornamented table and laughing at his implications. " — but her majesty selected the menu, so i have no doubt what she chose is nothing short of lovely. "

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               ❝Diversity is indeed a delight, one that lends intrigue and variety to the bonds of matrimony. Yet, you find great pleasure in whirling amidst the ballroom. It strikes me as rather a pity that he would not partake in such joyous revelry with you.❞ Maybe it was laced with far too much honesty, but he had gotten so used to being able to speak to the other without the worry of covering his words. ❝It is, after all, your marriage.❞

Priscilla bristled slightly at the comment, but she couldn't deny the truth behind it. Her betrothed was certainly a dancer, they'd take turns around the floor before, but the fact that she could hardly stand being near him without wanting to get into some kind of argument often led them to being separated at events such as these. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Dancing is simply not something he enjoys as much as I do. But it's good for a husband and wife to have different interests, is it not?"

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               It was instinctive to nod toward her words to confirm the information he had brought back with him from his adventures. This was their arrangement for as long as he could remember. Knowledge and tiny gifts for Veronica, an attempt to help sweep her away from Briar Glen and allow her onto his travels, in some way. Of course, never forgetting the sweet treats for Noemie, as well. ❝I heard it from a man outside of an academy. He raved on about these tiny rings.❞ While he could not remember every detail of the rantings and ravings of that older man, he did remember the passion that came from his words. How insistent he was. It was her own words, however, that had his head tilting slightly. ❝Oh, dearest Veronica, you could never look common.❞ Gentle words came with an equally gentle smile for his dear friend. ❝Charms? Certainly, they possess not the slightest clue of your true nature.❞

Veronica's eyes drifted away from the starry sky to take in her friend, who stood tall on his very own shoulders, even as he shrunk himself into his pockets – in fact, it seemed like every time Ellis found his way back to Briar Glen, he looked a little less like the dreamer boy engraved in the fabric of her memory, and more like his own man, seasoned by these stories of distant lands he brought back with him. "Rings now, really? On Jupiter? Most peculiar, that was never described in what literature I've read." Most likely it was the outcome of novel observations from abroad. The pettiest sense of envy reared its head at her. "Darn it, Davenport – I'll soon look oh-so-common next to you, with all the foreign knowledge and adventure you're no doubt amassing for your repertoire." Though she hoped her smile conveyed the truth of it, really – that she was happy for him, and glad to see him again. "Not soon enough." She sighed, leaning into the railing with arms crossed. "I swear, if I have to endure one more fortune-hunting lord droning on about my so-called charms, I might just fling myself into the punch bowl and drown my sorrows in fruit and brandy."

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               It amazed Ellis the way time could change things. How you could go from one feeling like someone had the potential to be your entire world to talking like strangers. Months, but it felt like it happened overnight. ❝Not as much dancing? Your betrothed is not compelling you onto the dance floor? Sounds like he may be lacking. Maybe he is a terrible dancer.❞ Broad shoulders lifted in the slightest of shrugs towards his own words of the man. Somehow, in some way, the jab felt necessary. As though it were meant to be a requirement coming from a prior suitor.

It felt strange regressing back to the proper titles when they spoke to each other and Priscilla had a feeling he'd felt it too. She would miss the days of calling each other by their names but the time had passed and that was fine. It wasn't meant to be. The sarcasm on his words wasn't missed and she couldn't help the smile that rose to her lips, a real one this time and not the smile that society expected on the lips of young ladies on the edge of marriage. "How could it be anything less than perfection when thrown by the Queen herself? ...Although, there is a lot more standing than I remembered, perhaps because I was dancing so much last year."

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               A ballroom surrounded by pretty dresses and fake smiles. It was certainly far from an enjoyable night to the male himself. The way the chandelier glimmered above him had caught his attention for too long. For quite some time, the male found himself leaning against the ballroom wall, head tilted, colors locked onto the chandelier as it slightly swayed due to all of the movements in the hall. A part of him wondered if it would come crashing down. Smash into a thousand tiny crystal pieces directly in the middle of her Majesty's magnificently extravagant ball. Oh, how Whistledown would salivate as such a dramatic event. Ellis could imagine the disastrous looks of mamas as they rushed their daughters out to keep their pretty dresses from being ruined. How dare their ladies be seen as anything less than porcelain perfect? His attention was only pulled away at the sight of another. Not a debutant in a pretty dress, waving a dance card in his face. But someone with something far more precious — food. It had colors drawing down to the plate, a single brow raising against his features at the sight. ❝They are exceedingly diminutive. It seems each year, the portions grow ever smaller.❞ Ellis' gaze lifted to find the features of the other, offering a slight bow of his head, a gentle gesture. ❝Have you indulged in these? Do you like them?❞

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢

it was nauseating.

all the glitz, all the glamour; the hushed whispers and cordial laughter. daniela couldn't stand it. even after all of these years her quick-to-quease stomach had yet to adjust to the absolute bafoonery that was high society, her disdain for balls not easily hidden as the music swelled and the talk of the ton translated to nothing more than impotent babble.

suctioned to the far wall of the ballroom, fingers twisted behind the small of her back and feeling the hard knot of her apron against her wrists, daniela frowned. it was uncouth for a member of the royal staff to act in such an improper manner, especially amongst company, but she couldn't help it. an elder staff member had swooped by, tutting her tongue at the young housemaid, reaching up to pinch and pull at a hollowed cheep to force a smile. daniela did so, against her will, mockingly curling her lips up into a wickedly devious grin before allowing the expression to fall all together once the elder had departed.

" bafoonery. " she huffed beneath her breath at the elder maid's back, eyes rolling as she peeled herself off the wall like vintage paper and dragged her feet towards one of the food tables to appear occupied. attentive.

catching the eyes of someone across the table, she offered a most insincere and painfully practiced smile. she knew better than to speak to members of higher class than her first ( it was one of the rules she actually did follow ) , turning one of the trays of finger foods so the side that housed more delicacies faced the other.

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               ❝Indeed, her Majesty possesses the all-knowing word.❞ The gentleman himself was not as skilled to hold back every ounce of his sarcasm, unable to help the way it managed to coat his tongue. It was the sight of the other as she curtseyed that had pulled the male into reality. Priscilla Cavendish — someone who meant something else months ago, but now nothing was the same. It left feet stepping back a single step to provide added distance for the other. ❝Lady Cavendish,❞ he returned formal words with a slight bow to his head. ❝How do you find the inaugural ball of the season? Is it all that you longed for?❞

"How else will the Ton know who is worthy, if Her Majesty does not approve of them first?" It was worded well enough, but Priscilla had to stop herself from letting sarcasm coat her tongue. No one in this pool of lords and ladies could seemingly make a decision for themselves without the Queen doing it for them and Priscilla had learned how to take advantage of that fact and happily reported such thoughts back to Lady Whistledown. Turning slightly, she gave Ellis a demure look, curtseying softly in his direction. "Mister Davenport, I hope you have been doing well since I last saw you. It feels almost like a lifetime ago." In reality, it had only been a few months but the last time they'd been together...well, things had been different.

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               She assumed it was truly always the Queen's goal to continuously surpass the previous ball. She was, of course, the Queen. The royal ball had to be the grandest and have the biggest turnout of the Ton. It almost seemed as if it were a requirement each season. ❝I ponder how she shall outdo herself in the coming season. Perhaps birds within? Elegant swans? Or dancing monkeys, perchance?❞ The woman attempted to not be too loud as if to give away her such genius ideas for the Queen's next ball. ❝And you, dear Yeying. How do you fare on this splendid evening? Has any gallant gentleman yet taken a place on your dance card?❞ While the outlook Rishima had on the market was anything but bright and shiny, she still held out the most hope for others. She wanted everyone to find their special someone that they could live their lives with in happy pleasure. Something more than just a match made in a season.

Seeing a familiar face caused a soft smile to curl her lips as her eyes studied the other lady carefully, but delicately. Meeting new people had its charm, but seeing familiar faces brought a moment of solace in the game of societal expectations. It required less effort to navigate through the conservations instead of trying to learn the twists and turns of a new person. But not all the familiar faces initiated a wave of solace, and she wished she could avoid those people for tonight. The black-haired woman beside her wasn’t one of those — and she was pleased to have a little conversation with her.

A breathy chuckle slipped from her lips when she glanced at their surroundings. “I would assume that is her goal,” she admitted and gently swept her hand in the air before her, “and judged on this evening, I would say she succeeded in it.” The gaze of her brown eyes found its way back to the other lady. “I am intrigued to hear what kind of music she will bring us. Perhaps.. a change could be rejuvenating.”

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               Something about the way his fingers wiggled in the air had delicate brown hues rolling. It had fingers twisting to pull the dance card from tied around her twist, holding it out to the other, held between two fingers. ❝To be declared the Diamond is a most dreadful prospect. The incessant scrutiny, the obligation to satisfy Her Majesty, and the relentless anxiety of never quite meeting the expectations of both her and the Ton, I most certainly decline. Moreover, I am certain my beloved brother perceives me as the most exquisite gem – or, he ought to.❞ Her last words came with a quick striking tease to her tone. ❝I would prefer to avoid the throng of suitors at our doorstep. Most seek naught but a generous dowry and a vessel for progeny, rather than engaging in delightful conversation and hobbies.❞

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it was always pleasant when his sister was beside him - it washes away nerves that he'd never had before on such an occasion. his first year debuting since the end of his betrothal. And he was already surrounded at the door when they walked in. "It is a rather lovely chandelier though." He mused, staring at it and wondering if he could ever acquire one for their home. without looking to her ( still looking at the chandelier ) long fingers wiggled to her as a sign of - let's see the dance card. he was mainly focusing on her prospects tonight , highly uninterested in his. "wouldn't be you , surely. you are to plain." he teased. "and I'd rather not deal with a hundred callers at our door."

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               Isabel herself was not much for idle gossip. When ladies would gather together over a Whistledown and whisper beneath their breaths as if their harmful words would not bring pain to strangers, the blonde herself pushed far from the actions. It did not keep her ears entirely clean of rumors, however, especially when you found yourself in such a large household as she did. Mei Honeyfield was a name she had heard before and it was rarely laced with kindness for a woman who had lost someone — no matter how old he was. She had approached the other when it appeared she was standing off in a dark corner, no others attempting to approach. The response she received had the young Dowager Viscountess herself releasing the smallest of chuckles. ❝Is this the designated sanctuary for widows? I dare say they neglected to inform me of my rightful alcove.❞

open starter !

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the baroness had been staring out into the crowd with a bitterness. fingers clutched to an unmarked dance card as she watched the youths dance and mingle. she stood next to the lemonade table but the area around her was bare - as if people didn't want to be associated with the honeyfield widow. she was still young - just barely into her marriage when her husband oh so -- peacefully passed in his sleep. he was rather old , wasn't he? and yet the women gossiped underneath their fans - the men circled around as they joined in their own idle gossip. she felt --- outcasted. "hmph." she finally resided to her fate and opened her fan -- aggressively. and when someone approached towards the table - she looked away.... then noticed they didn't reach for a lemonade. did they occupy the seemingly cursed bare space near her. "i would recommend you find somewhere else to stand. this spot is cursed by the dreadful widow ; supposedly."

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               A large part of her wanted to keep her feet within the confines of the Fortescue Estate. To wrap up under her blankets and hide in the dark as others swiftly twisted their bodies across the dance floor she once enjoyed so much. But the other facts came into play. Her soul wouldn't allow her to dwell in her grief any longer, at least, not hidden away in a dark chamber. She also knew at least one of her siblings would find themselves knocking at her door until she finally emerged and they could drag her to the Queen's magnificent ball. Hands were in front of her as she swayed across the ballroom, colors taking in the sight of others pairing together onto the floor. Fingers toyed with the gloves that covered her hands, hopeful the distraction would ease her discomfort. Nothing felt more heartful and warm, however, than the sight of the familiar young lady. Watching as she gently swayed to the music until she came to a stop. ❝I am most certain you shall appear exquisite upon the dance floor, Noemie.❞ The compliment came swiftly from her tongue once she found herself beside the other, returning her attention to the dance floor that seemed to be the center of Noemie's focus. ❝Have any suitors managed to pique your interest as of yet?❞

Open starter! -- The Queen's Diamond Ball | Noemie Talbot

Out of all the festivities, Noemie was looking forward to dancing the most. Seeing all the other Lords and Ladies take to the floor and twirl about in their oh-so-lovely dresses and practiced dance steps made this young lady's heart warm. So much so she was swaying to the music as she watched with joy. She couldn't believe she was finally here amongst society.

She fiddled with her dance card with such excitement and wonder and she watched the floor, she almost forgot that there were others off the floor probably watching her, in turn, being silly. Once the thought came to her head, so ceased her movements though not with embarrassment but simply due to the song ending. She gave a small clap as she peered around the room, wondering who'd go next.

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               Colors scanned the ballroom to take in the sights. A new season and yet, the vision was always the same. Ladies curtseyed and waved their fans across their chests, some even went as far as to faint onto the floor for the attention of the suitor they had their eyes on. A new season, but always the same sights. The words from the other had the male releasing a breath of a chuckle. ❝It all comes across as exceedingly coarse. The spectacle of presenting all the ladies before the Queen as if in some grand showing. I fear I shall never grow accustomed to it.❞

─── ⋆⋅ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

Priscilla looked forward to the first ball of the season each year, though her experience with them was on the lower end of numbers. This year was different though, she found herself hitched already - or rather, to-be-hitched, and she wasn't sure if being on the sidelines was something she particularly wanted to get used to. The ladies looked like baby deers in the middle of the floor, dangling after more than a handful of cock-sure lords who hadn't turned an eye in their direction. It was all rather vexing...not being a part of it. "Quite a handsome group of debutants this season, wouldn't you agree?"

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               Ellis Davenport, known as a frequent traveler, had just returned from yet another journey. A man who avoided the ton as much as he possibly could. Watching the fainting maidens and the way suitors would fight over who they considered to be the Season's Prize was always a sight he wanted to avoid. But he always returned home for his favorite people. One of whom he knew he could find hidden away from the ball itself, never one you would find directly in the middle of a soiree. Dressed in the only garments he could manage to dig out of his packed bags, the male shifted his way through the crowds until he found himself stepping out onto the terrace. Safety - he left the door open to allow eyes to peer out, never wanting another to dare say she was entirely left alone with the other. What would the Ton say? As her words came, the male shoved his hands into his pockets, immediately falling into a state of uncare towards how he looked as he approached the other. ❝A gentleman I encountered abroad declared it to be the grandest sphere in the heavens. He noted that it is adorned with rings, yet they are so delicate as to be scarcely discernible.❞ Did the male himself know which words were true and which were the creations of a madman? No. But he found himself sitting on that rock, listening to this man as he raved on about the planets in the sky. ❝Already retreating from the festivities?❞

open starter ft. lady veronica talbot // accepting replies; location — the queen's diamond ball, the terrace overlooking the gardens. tw: alcohol use

As the door to the terrace closes behind Veronica, the cacophony of the ballroom is mercifully muted, leaving her ears soothed by the sudden quiet. It was navigating the advances of a rude, presumptuous, rat-looking Lordling that served as the final straw to break her patience, leading her to trade the ball room for refuge in the cover of night, outside, with glass of wine at hand to temper humors. The gardens stretched out as far as her eyes could see, blurry under a soft nightly mist. The thought of descending there to be among the trees, rid of all manner of pleasantry, called to her – she even glanced around expectantly, thinking to find a friend with whom a genuine conversation could be held amidst some unchaperoned adventure in the gardens. But for once, the thought is nipped in the bud – glancing back into the ballroom, there was Noemie, taking her first official steps as a Lady of society, beginning her journey toward securing a much-desired love match. All of her actions tonight held her in mind, above all. So she would behave – die of boredom, if she must – if it mean protecting her sister's prospects. Her eyes drift to the skies while she savors a sip from her wine. An unmistakeable glint in its fabric catches her attention, just as another member of the ton seems to make their way to address her. "Jupiter is remarkably bright tonight." A whimsy point of her finger in its direction. "It’s currently at opposition, I believe, so directly opposite the sun from our vantage point. I would bet you could even see its Galilean moons with a good telescope—four tiny points of light, right around it." For all the urges she'd be containing tonight, the one to provide unsolicited information was decidedly not one of them.