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The ornate walls of the ballroom playfully reflected the lights of the golden chandeliers: the castle where tonight's ball was held belonged to an earl, one of the richest people in England. The earl liked throwing big parties where he could show off his wealth and the other aristocrats who never forgot to talk behind his back out of envy, never missed these parties. Getting an invitation was an honor they could brag about for weeks to their less lucky friends - and of course, no one had the misfortune to encounter, as the high class constantly called them among themselves, "lowly folks who didn't belong to us".
At least, that's what they thought.
At the corner of the walls, there stood a figure of a man, almost invisible: despite his elegant clothes, he was somehow different from the other guests: a trained observer could've easily guessed that he wasn’t a high-class person by birth. He shouldn't even get invited in the first place and yet, he was here: as a secretary, he always accompanied the man he was working for everywhere. His employer, while not bearing a noble title, was one of the most important people in London: Charles Augustus Milverton, the so-called King of Media.
And his duty was to assist and protect him.
The secretary, Ruskin, watched Mr. Milverton silently: he was in the middle of a discussion in the circle of influential aristocrats. Mr. Milverton was a charming talker and the master of manipulation: he knew exactly what he needed to say to win people over. Ruskin was sure that while his employer is careful not to show it, he is, in fact, bored by the conversation. Yet, he continued: these nobles were the best patrons of his newspapers after all - and Ruskin admired Mr. Milverton's dedication and the efforts he did to keep his current power.
Ruskin's eyes wandered off to the middle of the ballroom where a small orchestra played music to the guests of the party. Some people took this chance and danced: the rustling sound of the dresses mixed with the music. Noblewomen always pretended that balls like this were a competition where they could show off their best and most expensive outfits - and these dresses made the hall vibrate from the different colors. One of the outfits stood out, making the others look faint and dull in comparison. It was made from a shiny material that gently sparkled in the light, but what got Ruskin's attention was its color - dark purple.
Ruskin didn't care about women; he was polite when he needed to, but for him, all of them were the same. Even now, he was only interested in this dress and didn't notice the lady who wore it - its color reminded him of his employer's favorite suit. Mr. Milverton cared about his looks deeply and he was always well-dressed; Ruskin personally made sure that his suits and shirts were clean enough before he put them back into the wardrobe. If Mr. Milverton was a woman, this dress would fit his look perfectly, thought Ruskin and turned his head back to his talking employer again.
However... Mr. Milverton doesn't need to be a woman to be beautiful...
Ruskin watched as Mr. Milverton, with an elegant move, picked up a wine glass from the table and sensually drank a sip. His white, curly hair was glowing in the crowd, those two wicked locks that Ruskin could never order fell onto his face mischievously. Mr. Milverton often asked for Ruskin's help in washing and combing his hair: it was hard to deal with, but Ruskin didn't mind - he passionately loved this job which offered him a chance to touch his employer in a way that would be quite disrespectful otherwise. And after Ruskin washed his hair in warm water and carefully wiped it to dry to keep Mr. Milverton from catching a cold, it became smooth like silk. Ruskin loved tenderly running his fingers over the curly locks while he combed them in the morning - and Mr. Milverton either didn't notice these touches or they didn't bother him.
Mr. Milverton was quite a handsome man and he knew it - when the malicious, calculating smile didn't appear in the corner of his mouth, his face was pure, almost feminine. His unnaturally white skin made him look more fragile than he was and with the white hair, Mr. Milverton's appearance reminded Ruskin of those Greek statues he sometimes saw when he accompanied his employer to the gallery. While Ruskin kept worrying for Mr. Milverton health due to his paleness, he also found the sight breathtaking: only his strange, yellow eyes vibrated through his glasses. Eyes what could make anyone shiver - except for Ruskin. The yellow eyes softened whenever Mr. Milverton looked at Ruskin, showing that he cares about his secretary.
Ruskin thought that his Mr. Milverton was more beautiful than every woman in this ballroom. He looked back at the lady wearing the sparkling purple dress: someone asked her out to dance, now the couple moved in harmony to the rhythm of the music. Ruskin watched them while his heart was aching.
His dream was to dance with Mr. Milverton like that but he was just a mere secretary - how can he even dream about things like that?
The orchestra started to play another piece: it was a sweet but sad music, Ruskin felt it was written by someone who was hopefully longing for their love - someone like him.
Ruskin sighed. He devoted his entire life to Mr. Milverton, and he never regretted this choice. He lived for his compliments, his smiles, his plans, to fulfill his wishes every day. He loved Mr. Milverton more than anything and serving him made him happy... but sometimes he wished for something more. And yet, he couldn't even ask him out to a dance... especially that Ruskin never had a chance to learn how to dance properly.
As he listened to the silent cry of the strings and the piano's raindrop-like sounds which felt like little fairies were dancing in the air, he let himself fall into a beautiful fantasy. In this daydream, he gently held Mr. Milverton, his hands were on his waist and his shoulder - they were dancing while the crowd suddenly disappeared around them. They got left alone in the pale moonlight; in the background, Ruskin could see the burning capital, but the music made it impossible for them to hear the screams. While the fire was raging in London, they were just dancing, with each of their steps, a life perished away. Ruskin saw the reflection of the mayhem in Mr. Milverton's yellow eyes and when his employer took up his hand and closed his long fingers on it, it cut away his breath completely. The music became more and more intense, echoing in the red sky and as the Empire fell into ruin, he drew Mr. Milverton closer. Their faces touched: he closed his eyes while his lips slowly opened...
They celebrated their victory with a tender kiss.
"Ruskin."
The voice calling his name quickly dragged him back to reality: he was in the ballroom again and Mr. Milverton was standing next to him, observing him curiously.
"I apologize, sir, I didn't notice you." He replied after a long silence.
"I could see that. What are you daydreaming about again?"
"Nothing in particular, sir..." Ruskin's face turned to red like his employer can read his mind. "I was just watching the dresses. The dark purple one reminded me of your suit."
"Even from this distance, I can tell you that my suit was more expensive."
"Wouldn't you like to dance as well...?" Ruskin suddenly asked, then realizing how intimate this question sounded, he insecurely looked away.
A smile appeared on his employer's face.
"Can you imagine me dancing, Ruskin?"
From his voice, Ruskin could tell that he finds the idea amusing.
"I have a good imagination, sir." The blush on Ruskin's face spread out, he could feel the hotness on his neck.
"I will leave this entertainment to the nobles. I'm a businessman." Mr. Milverton raised his shoulder and from the corner of his eyes, he gave Ruskin a wink. "Do you want to dance?"
Ruskin's heartbeat got faster.
"Well, in special circumstances... I do, but I don't know how to... I never learned to dance, sir." He admitted as he lowered his head shamefully.
"I can teach you the steps at home if that's what you wish for."
"Yes!" Ruskin burst out from enthusiasm; he saw that his passionate reaction surprised his employer. He quickly ordered himself. "I mean... I would be grateful, sir."
"I will show you how to dance then, Ruskin." Mr. Milverton didn't know what made his secretary suddenly happy, but he liked it. He leaned closer to Ruskin who could feel the curly hairlocks tickling his skin. They watched the dancers together silently.
Mr. Milverton's offer of teaching him to dance gave Ruskin hope for the future... sometimes even the dreams of a mere secretary can come true.
And one day, they will watch the world burn while they are holding hands.
Like in his fantasy.