A/N: Hello, all, I'm back! I've returned from a very long break of not writing. I had a bit of a writer's slump, and when my muse finally returned, it brought this story with it. This is my first foray into the world of fairy tales, but I've grown up listening to fairy tales in my childhood, so I've decided to take a stab at it. Please enjoy!
Summary: Disgraced and exiled by her father, Isabel of Wynclyff lives alone. Betrayed by one too many men, she is adverse and immune to love. Until she meets Alan. Can the honest heart of the one man that doesn't seek her out show her what love is before it's too late?
Prologue: Banishment
Chaos reigned in the southern courtyard of the Castle Eytan. Servants scurried about, carrying parcels and trunks and bags to the waiting carriage that was already teeming with belongings. Adding to the confusion were the chickens, hopping about and narrowly avoiding being kicked on several occasions by the harried servants.
At the center of this human tempest was a fourteen year old girl who was busy fighting back tears—and losing. She glared at her father who was standing dispassionately next to the carriage, holding the door open and occasionally barking out orders to the fearful servants. The girl glimpsed her sour-faced governess and two frightened maids already bundled inside, waiting for her to get in, but she didn't want to leave. It wasn't fair.
A warm cloak enveloped her and a solid arm wrapped around her shoulders. A warm cheek pressed against her wet one, and her sister's voice sounded in her ear. "It isn't forever, Isabel."
"It is!" The girl wailed, clinging to the cloak and her sister, loath to let go. She was convinced that she was being sent away forever, and she would never see her family again. "I'll never see you again." She whimpered, burying her face in her sister's dark hair.
Catrina wiped her sister's tears away, hugged her close and dared to appeal to her stony father.
"Father, Your Grace, please," she called over her sister's soft cries and the servants' bustling. She dared to use his title, hoping to garner some favor, but it was to no avail. Her father turned his scowling gray gaze to her, and she knew it was lost. Isabel clung tighter, her sobs growing louder, and Catrina knew she had to try.
"Won't you let her stay?" She pleaded. "I'll teach her all she needs to know."
This was the wrong thing to say, as her father's eyes grew even colder, and he growled, "You had fourteen years to teach that girl the woman's arts. Between you and your two sisters, you had a chance. You did not take it. Now it is up to me to show this girl what happens when you disobey." He turned his gaze to the loitering men at arms, waiting to depart with the carriage. "Take her."
The men at arms approached the weeping girl, disengaging her from her sister. Both girls were clung to each other, and Catrina pressed a kiss to her sister's forehead. "Be brave," she whispered, and Isabel nodded, tears running down her face and her throat choked with sobs.
As the men at arms lifted her into the carriage, Catrina tried to go to the carriage, to clasp her sister's hand on last time and say goodbye. Restraining hands on her arms made her glance back, her blue eyes glittering with tears.
"Leave her, sister," Beatrice murmured, tugging her sister back towards the Great Hall.
"She is beyond our help now," Diana added, moving with Beatrice to pull her sister backwards. The two noblewomen succeeded in convincing their sister to go back to where the rest of their family waited. Catrina stood silent and fuming next to their four brothers, watching the carriage trundle through the gates. She watched until the carriage was obscured—but whether it was by the dust of the road or the tears in her eyes, she couldn't tell.
Her father stalked into the Great Hall, and as was demanded, the three sisters fell back to allow their father and brothers to proceed ahead of them. Catrina glared at her father's back as it vanished into the gloom of the interior. Banishing their youngest sister was not a crime that she would allow her father to forget, nor would she forgive him for it. The others may go along with it, sheep that they were, but she would not be so easily swayed by her father's honeyed words of persuasion.
Catrina turned back, but the carriage was already a speck of dust in the distance. The tears came again, and she wiped them away hurriedly, knowing that her father saw her mourning her sister, she would be punished.
"Oh, Isabel," she whispered fiercely, "I'm sorry. I tried."
A/N: Well, that's the beginning of what I hope will be a story I can be proud of. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!
