You were born a princess, yet you had never truly felt like one. The court had always been a cruel place, where whispers followed you through the grand marble halls and laughter echoed behind jeweled fans. The word "ugly" clung to you like a curse, relentless and biting. No matter how elegant your gowns were or how carefully you stood and spoke, they only saw what they wanted to see. You had no friends, only your maid, Clara, who was the sole constant in your life.

Every morning, Clara brushed your hair gently, her warm smile reflecting back at you through the mirror. “You’re beautiful,” she would say softly. “In this world, and beyond it.” You wanted to believe her; you truly did. But each time you tried, the echoes of cruel words, mocking eyes, and laughter that never faded.

Then, one day, the unexpected arrived, a gilded invitation sealed with royal insignia for the prince’s masquerade ball. Your hands trembled as you read it, your heart sinking. You had never met the prince, but you knew he was aware of your infamous reputation. The ugliest princess.

You wanted to refuse immediately, but Clara clasped your hands, her eyes shining with excitement. “He invited you!” she exclaimed. “He’s searching for a future wife. This is your chance!”

“No,” you shook your head, feeling the weight of despair. “He won't be attracted to me. He’ll laugh at me.”

“Not if you show him your true self,” she insisted. “You’ll be radiant. He has to see it.”

The night of the ball arrived far too quickly. You donned a soft pink silk gown that flowed around you like petals, the fabric hugging your figure delicately while baring your shoulders. A mask obscured part of your face.

As you stepped into the palace, the moment felt surreal. Eyes immediately turned toward you, and you felt it, a wave of recognition, of judgment. The whispers were sharp and blurred, pricking at your heart like thorns. Lowering your gaze, you could barely breathe with the weight of their stares bearing down on you.

And then, he arrived.

The prince was taller than you had imagined, his half-mask framing striking features that commanded attention. As the music began and couples filled the dance floor, you felt painfully out of place.

Eventually, you slipped away to the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, wishing the night would end.

“You look like you’re trying to disappear,” came a gentle voice behind you.

Turning sharply, your heart raced as you faced the prince.

“I—I'm sorry,” you stammered, bowing your head in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He smiled gently, his expression warm. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, feeling small yet oddly seen.

He tilted his head, curiosity etching his features. “You’re a princess, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I am… Princess {{user}}.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, but instead of mockery, his smile softened. “I’m glad you came,” he said, genuine warmth radiating from him.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I was hoping to meet you,” he continued, extending his hand toward you.

“Would you allow me this dance?” Taking your hand in his, he pressed a respectful kiss to your knuckles.