"What about that Cirucci chick? She's not bad. Not bad at all…"

"No? Not at all?"

"Okay, what about this. Loly and Menoly and the ménage a trois…"

It was finally the day of the Grand Ball, and a life-changing day for one lucky girl and one violent prince of the land of Hueco Mundo. While the many beautiful girls of the nation were hard at work curling their hair and getting last-minute facials at the exclusive Yumichika's Salon, their coveted prince was instead out hunting with his friend Ilforte in the forest behind his castle, away from the chidings of his mother and the other maternal figures who stood outside the castle gates, shouting for him to please tell their daughters those precious words: "I do."

For good reason. Marriage into the royal family guaranteed an unimaginable uplifting of social status and wealth and a sorry end to the prince's carefree, wandering lifestyle. It just made Grimmjow sick.

"Halibel. Oh damn!" Ilforte exclaimed, unrolling the scroll further to continue perusing its contents.

The prince turned irritably to his companion, whose head had been buried in that cursed scroll all day. On it was a list of all the eligible maidens of the province, decreed by his royal pain in the ass of a father to attend the Grand Ball where Grimmjow would find his one true love.

Yeah, right.

They'd had a fearsome row about it too. First, the king had placidly cited the merits of marriage – a brand new trust fund, a new ship, and three new castles just outside of the province. The prince had declined, shouting how marriage is not a meaningless tool to secure material interests. Rather, it was a last resort for couples with anti-abortion values.

The queen had burst into an extravagant display of tears, weeping about how her dreams of grandchildren were only to be fulfilled by enlisting the land's most famous scientist in genetic engineering. The prince had shrugged and stated that he had no problems with Kurotsuchi getting rich from their idiocy.

At this point, the fierce quarrel had reached its climax.

"Oh, darling! I told you our son loves men. Our bloodline shall end with this imbecile and our family shall come to ruins." The queen had thrown herself into the king's arms, even as her husband half-strangled their son in an awkward familial embrace, assuring the kicking and screaming young man that they accepted and loved him dearly no matter what.

No one had listened to Grimmjow's impassioned defense that making out with Charlotte Choulhourne one time while inebriated did not constitute a change in his sexual orientation. The guy even had a turtleneck that disguised his Adams' apple and velvet gloves over his manly hands, for god's sake. Somehow, that had not been noted when the incident made headlines in the local press.

Just thinking about it soured the prince's mood even further.

"Shut up, you noisy asshole." Grimmjow growled. Ilforte's uncanny gift of scaring away any girl was extending itself to the many living creatures of the nearby hunting grounds that afternoon. Girls were no better than boars.

"Come on, check this out." Ilforte groaned, waving the comprehensive list. "Can't you pick at least one girl off this list and make your parents happy so we can have that kick ass after party? I mean look, Rangiku Matsumoto."

Grimmjow sighed. This was the umpteenth time his mother's best friend had been brought up. "Too loud."

"Orihime!" Ilforte's reply came with the speed of one engaging in a very familiar conversation. "She's practically Rangiku with a mute button."

"Don't care for redheads."

"Like them quiet? Nemu's cute too you know. Especially for a girl who was made from chemical X and wires." Ilforte did not give up easily.

"Daddy's girl doesn't have any opinions. Seems boring as hell."

"Momo. Cute chick with a cute name. Wonderful personality." Ilforte went on confidently, as if he had known the girl for years. "You can't say no to that."

Grimmjow digged in his heels, urging his horse to speed up in an effort to abandon his friend.

They were nearly back at the discrete back gate of the castle when the conversation too returned to its origins.

"I still don't get your issues with Loly and Menoly." Ilforte grumbled, punching Grimmjow in the side. "Do hot twins mean nothing to you? Are you really gay?" He pulled up in front of Grimmjow, startling the prince's sterling mount.

But it wasn't like that! No one believed him, but the prince just had immaculate standards. Standards that none had come close to. He'd seen them all, some in more detail than others – blonde girls, tall girls, petite girls, girls who were really men. There was no one left in the kingdom who could surprise him.

He had an idea. The prince leapt off his horse and got on one knee holding up a weed plucked randomly from the ground. "Ilforte, I have come to my senses. Will you be my princess and bear my offspring?"

But his friend merely sniffed. "Ask me again later at the ball and we'll see."

It was going to be a very long, very painful night.