Marken hadn't been pleased at the beginning, when he was first told of the ball. Of course, a party in itself was fun to attend, the finest foods provided for the royal family, not to mention the vintage wines. However, the purpose of the ball was the thing that ruined it for him. The damn war that his father had drug them into required strong leaders for their army. The man, Glenn by name, refused to have his son not take part in the affairs of the kingdom either, and taking into account his sons distaste for combat, a choice was offered. Secure the support of the lesser houses by proving that they were not far below the royal family, or join the army and lead by example, on the front lines where such bravery would inspire the troops to victory... The choice had been made in minutes, and Marken never regretted it.

As usual, the ladies of the various noble houses, the unmarried ones anyway, lined themselves up before him, desperate to be the one he picked above the rest. 'Such fawns, incapable of finding someone themselves, requiring the whimsical hand of a lord to whisk them away.' His thoughts drifted away, however, when he noticed one of the few who seemed to be less than interested in him. That alone intrigued him, though her looks helped secure his interest, and soon enough, he had her on the dance floor. There were many noble families, he wasn't quite sure which one this girl was from, however, he was quickly deciding that she would be the one he'd pick, above the rest. He had no use for a wife who was only interested in the power and wealth that came from association with a prince, no, he needed someone better than that.

Marken chuckled at Ellanors words, shaking his head slightly. "Oh? I don't believe you quite realize the purpose of this ball. My guests are the least of my worries right now. They'll understand." As the song ended, the dance over, Marken took Ellanors hand and led them to a table, servants immediately on top of him to please. Atleast they weren't slaves, grovelling in the hopes that it would keep away a beating. Such disgusting practices made him wonder what the shape of the kingdom would be in when he eventually took over. There would certainly be changes, though he wasn't sure how the populace would react to them. "Two glasses of wine, make sure it's from the Piory vineyards, they have the sweetest grapes." A servant nodded, skillfully pouring two glasses half full of the sweet, and expensive, liquid.

"So, may I know your name then. You already know my own, I find myself at a disadvantage." He'd never met a girl quite so... Stubborn, and he liked it. For once, he wasn't dealing with someone kissing the very ground he walked on. His tone was rather sweet, though it held a tone of satisfaction about it, the pride from his lineage seeming to always be present in his dialect. Taking a sip of his wine, Marken encouraged Ellanor to take a drink as well with a raise of his hand. It simply wasn't a party if his guests weren't enjoying themselves, and he believed wine to be part of such enjoyment.