Valor, Princes and Bad Guys
One
Extreme-Valora
Sometime in the renaissance
Buffalo, New York
Nineteen-year-old Derek Souza glowered out the window of his carriage as his brother babbled excitedly about meeting cute boys and his sister fussed with his unkempt blonde hair.
Derek kept his mind busy by observing the foreign kingdom. It was cool, not hot like Sacramento; the sun shining upon a bed of blue and dusting of pale clouds gave the illusion of summery heat. The people wore moderately thick gowns and trousers; it was nothing like the breezy gowns and loose trousers of his home.
"Are you excited about meeting your betrothed?" asked Kit, glancing at his massive son. Derek shrugged one shoulder and stared at the warm water under the bridge they rode on.
"Chloe's a nice girl, at least that's what Liz says," Tori butted in, smiling softly as she smoothed down the purple skirts of her gown. Derek barely spared his sister a glance. "She says Chloe's tiny and nice, complete opposite of our cranky, giant Derek," snickered Simon, running his fingers trough his spiked hair. "I'm not cranky," Derek countered calmly before returning to staring out the window.
What would Princess Chloe of Buffalo be like?
oOo
Fifteen-year-old Chloe ran the brush through her baby-fine hair, the natural streaks of red gleaming in the sunlight. It was the day she'd been scared of: meeting Prince Derek Souza. The idea of finally meeting her betrothed, a rumored brute without emotions, left her stomach in knots. Her father, King Steve, stepped in, smiling sadly, his eyes gazing at her.
"You look so much like her, Chloe," he whispered and her hand wrapped around the blood-red pendant resting against her breastbone. Her long nails stroked the smooth surface. "Yes," she said softly, her voice quiet, "I get that every time I make an appearance even within the walls of my home."
Steve cleared his throat, obviously regretting saying anything. "Your mother would've been very proud. You're a very bright, beautiful young lady, Chloe. Prince Derek will be a lucky man," he told her, reaching out and stroking her curly hair. She smiled weakly. "Your Majesty," called Annette, the maids keeper, peering in with beady black eyes, "Prince Souza has arrived." Chloe gathered her skirts in her hands, fixed on a ladylike smile, and swept out of the room.
Steve held his arm out, which she tremblingly took, while breathing deeply to keep herself from hyperventilating and fainting as they made they way down the grand, marble staircase. There were three men: a tall, black-haired boy with exotic green eyes, a smiling silver-haired man with warm slanted eyes, and an awe-struck almond-eyed boy with spiky, blond hair. There was a girl in a daring purple gown that was staring at her with a smile. She curtsied, her black pixie hair looking blue in the sunlight. Chloe smiled, relaxing as Tori straightened.
"Your Majesty," said the silver-haired man, placing a fist over his heart and bowing deeply. "King Kit," greeted Steve warmly, returning the bow. "This is my son, Simon." Kit gestures to the grinning blonde boy, who bowed and laughed when he saw Chloe's face.
"Good afternoon, Princess Chloe." His voice was high-pitched and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as she curtsied, keeping her eyes on the muscular legs of the last boy. "Tori." The girl in question curtsied and grinned at Chloe in a very unladylike manner. "Your majesty, this is my oldest son, Derek; Chloe's betrothed."
She curtsied again and the black-haired boy bowed, his hand clasping Chloe's. His skin was like fire, burning her in a delicious, unknown way. "Pleasure to meet you," he said against the skin of her hand, his lips warm and moist against it, sending her skin skittering with goosebumps. She stared at him.
Derek wasn't handsome in the way Simon was but he had the most beautiful eyes and long eyelashes; his lips were full and pink; his nose was set crookedly in the slightest and his hair fell in wind-tossed sheets around his sharp, angular face. His skin was sun-kissed, a nice, golden color; his hair was the color of ebony; his cheeks were pink with a rosy hue, probably from his intense acne sprinkling his cheeks.
He was very tall, around six feet and perhaps well over; he was also extremely broad, about the width of her bedroom door. His limbs were long; his hands and were twice the size of hers. She felt like a tiny, fragile doll compared to him and she felt her face flame at the thought of him seeing her scrawny body.
"Pleasure is all mine, Prince Derek," she managed to squeak out without looking like an idiot or stuttering.
oOo
Derek drank in the sight of his betrothed. She was small and thin, much like a young girl. She was pale, like porcelain and her features were dainty, like a fairy. Her blue, blue eyes were big and framed by long, pale eyelashes that matched her strawberry blonde curls; her nose was tiny and slightly up-turned with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose; her cheeks were pink, like a rose, as though she'd been pinched. Her heart-shaped lips were spread in a smile that made his hands sweat. White teeth peeked out like pearls.
He absently heard his father saying something but he was too focused on the girl, this beautiful, dainty woman like a fairytale princess, his betrothed.
Her gown was simple. It was a pale, pale blue gown with long sleeves that cut across her small shoulders. The bodice was a black with brown laces.
She ducked her head down, like she was embarrassed and he wanted so very badly to scoop her up and kiss the blush away from her lovely face. Her hand squeezed his—or was it his imagination?—and she smiled softly, brushing a curl away from her face. As she moved to follow her father into the dining hall, she glanced back at him.
"Come along, Prince Derek," she said in a soft, musical voice that riled feelings long lost ago. He knew he was staring but he didn't care.
oOo
Derek's eyes burned a hole in the back of her head as he glared at her. Chloe clenched her cloth napkin in her lap as she waited for dinner; Tori was twittering with Simon, too low for her to join in and Derek was staring at her. He sat on her right; Tori and Simon across from her with their father; and Steve across from Kit.
Chloe peeked out from behind her curls to find Derek's eccentric eyes staring at her with an intensity that could melt ice. He wasn't exactly glaring at her; he was just staring, his hands laced together and his cheek resting on the bridge his fingers made.
It was really beginning to unnerve her. She fiddled with her napkin. The expression on his face reminded her of a child on Christmas Day, opening presents: part awe, part adoration, part…something she'd only heard whispers of. Where was the cold man she'd heard of?
"Derek," hissed Tori and his jaw twitched, a muscle jumping. She saw him drop his arms and discreetly rub his leg. Tori had kicked him. Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing but a little snort escaped despite her efforts to keep quiet and ladylike. "So, Chloe—" Tori leaned forward, hands propping up her pointed face.
"Princess Chloe," corrected Kit with a stern look. The dark-haired princess snorted. "I-i-it's o-okay," Chloe blurted out and immediately slouched a little lower in her seat, wishing the cushions would swallow her up as all eyes turned to her.
She could hear Rachelle's voice when they were younger: Real princesses don't stutter like a peasant, she had told Chloe with a sneer and "accidentally" knocked the teapot onto the brand new dress that her mother had bought. Chloe had sat there and cried until her mother came in and told Rae, in a very strange, cold voice, to leave, that the meeting between Steve and Asmondai was over. Jacinda collected her daughter and, with a soft smile at the Saunders women, left, her coppery braids bouncing along her back as Rachelle glowered out from her mother's skirts.
"Why don't you show the Souzas around?"
"Enright," Tori spat out. "My last name is Enright." Steve looked a little taken aback and Tori glared at him until Chloe sent a tiny smile in the other girl's direction. She relaxed and gave Chloe's foot a nudge with a quirky grin; Simon let out a loud guffaw.
"I will."
She set her napkin on the table, folded like a lady should, and her chair was pulled back by Derek, making her cheeks warm. "Thank you, Prince Derek," she managed to say without making a fool of herself too much. He nodded and helped her to her feet, his warm, big hand nearly swallowing hers.
Their hands fit like puzzle pieces.
It was as he held the door open for everyone and he took her hand again, looking very charming and mysterious, that he said something. His voice was nothing but a low rumble, like distant thunder.
"Derek."
His exotic eyes met hers, full of secrets and lust and passion but also guarding something she couldn't quite decipher yet.
"Call me Derek."