Alexander James Francis Maximillion Nightingale had just barely managed to get through the initial greeting of all those who had arrived the eve before. It was exhausting, to say the least. He hoped he never had to smile like that again. He rubbed his check again, his face still feeling worn out from then, even though some time had passed. Now? Now, he was finishing getting ready for what he, once more, would call a dreaded event. His formal wear would certainly stand out to say the least. A black uniform with gold trim was what he was wearing. There was red cloth lining the pockets. He wore a large medallion around his neck, if only for tonight. The crown worn by the king before him would adorn his head at this time. The crown would seem small for a king, but it was of a high-quality silver, with masculine gems along the edges just above his hair. The crown itself was a sign of the enormous wealth this king was said to have. Anyway, Alexander let out a sigh as he made his way down the corridors and halls, going down to the 'ball room'. The place had gathered dust since the day he assumed the throne, since it had never been used. It had taken a month or more of preparing to make it ready for this 'ball', the first one to ever happen in that castle in a long time. Now the room looked like it had never been ignored to begin with, and no one, not that he was aware of anyway, would be the wiser. The king in question would glance around that room upon entering it, if only to make sure everything was prepared for what he hoped would be the last of these events, and not just the first. He nodded at times and servants began to leave, but only to prepare the food and such. They would later return, escorting the guests. 






Alexander took a deep breath as he made to approach the 'ball room' doors once more. As they were opened, he tried to act as calm as possible. This was also supposed to be a formal event. And so, he felt that he had to act as formally as possible as well, which meant he could not be himself, not now. He had a bride to choose, and a tradition to uphold. He had responsibilities. It was his duty, and not just because he was currently the king. He would wait as the guests had their fill of food, during the meal that was to happen before the 'ball'. He had already eaten. He was currently not one for large meals, since his appetite was currently not very large itself. When the time came, he would clear his throat and welcome them all to the 'grand event'. He just barely kept himself from shuddering upon saying those words. 



"Welcome all, to this... grand event. I hope you all have a... grand time. May you all leave happy, regardless of what happens. I see many a young lady has arrived, whether escorted by their families, or sent here to seek me out. Well....perhaps one of you may be lucky enough to call this place your permanent second home tonight. Until then.....enjoy yourselves."



He would turn and walk away after that. But that was when it started. Many a young woman approached him, trying to ask for a dance, their eyes saying that they wanted to be chosen. Of course, there were others whose families nudged them in his direction, and convinced them to do that. In his mind, they would be rejected straight away. Besides, the shadows would guide him to her. If his shadow, guided by the magic of his people, touched hers and did not let go, that young lady in question would be his bride. He would made it well known that she had been chosen, that 'he' had chosen her. Until then, she had to be found, for she had not even been seen yet.