Author's Notes: So, I felt like updating, because I haven't in forever and a day. I know I said last time that I'd put this chapter up soon, but I wasn't exactly sure where I was going.
Oh, and a few things: One, that this follows the game sometimes, and sometimes strays off into an Alternate Universe, which isn't really another universe, it's just a different series of events. Two, that the Prince/Elise pairing won't be as simple as it was in the game. And Three, that I will ship other pairings relentlessly in this. RELENTLESSLY, YA HEAR? O-Okay, sorry… Ahem, on with the chapter~!
O.O.O.O
Even from where she was in Industrial, she could still hear the clock tower each day, every hour, on the hour. And when it signaled the time to go home, she always felt like crying. Her tiny apartment couldn't be her home. She missed the castle, and her days spent in it, she missed her warm, friendly, cluttered bedroom with the large portrait of The Millfields on its wall, she missed the view of the city from the castle garden, she missed her friends in the castle kitchens, and she missed her mother a bit, too. But most of all, she missed having Rory at her side.
Elise had fallen out of a tree once—before Logan had them all removed. If she thought very, very hard, she could remember that it was Robert's tree, too—in the castle garden. That one, singular time where she felt like she couldn't find any air at all, and she couldn't move, but everything hurt so badly, and Rory's concerned face was blurred and hazy.
She could compare that feeling to that day in the throne room, and the latter was a thousand times worse.
But, perhaps the most awful thing that had happened to her since she fled from that place was the fact that for the most part, she was happy. And she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to be happy ever again.
It had been three months. Three entire months since she'd last seen her Prince, or Walter, or even Jasper. She held onto hope, but it dwindled, and there was gossip, yes, but it was the same old things, and every day she didn't hear any news, a bit of her past fell away, and a new Elise began to form.
And on the start of the fourth month without him, Laszlo took his place in her heart.
O.O.O.O
Madam Elise Margaret Bigsby,
You have been cordially invited to King Logan's 20th birthday celebration.
That was all she could read from the letter—it was a pale purple, and smelled of gentle lavender, and it was so beautiful and perfect and she wanted it back—before her sister wrenched it from her hands and skimmed over the words, holding it out of Elise's reach.
"O, gracious, do you know what this means?"
"That I get to go to the castle, like I do every other day?" Elise snapped, frowning. She sat down at the table, and traced her finger distractedly over the edge of the polished wood.
"Don't talk like that to me, brat!" Her sister retorted, but quickly regained composure—she was, after all, a lady. "It means," she said, as though talking to a small child who had said something very, very stupid, "that you can finally meet a possible husband!"
This, of course, was very stupid of her to say, because Rory had spontaneously kissed her not days before, and the last thing on Elise's fourteen-year-old mind was marrying someone other than him. It seemed as though her sister, as well as her parents, had lost all hope of her ever marrying the Prince—or the King, as her sister so often fantasized about.
"Mother and Father will need to hear of this at once," she continued, though Elise was only thinking of how much she didn't want to meet a 'possible future husband'.
Minutes later—though to Elise it felt much longer—both her parents rushed in, followed almost instantly by Benjamina—their scullery maid—and began talking quickly about the dress she was to wear, and the jewels, and all of the things that Elise didn't really want to wear at all.
She'd be fine in her school uniform, which is what she wore most days when she trekked up to the castle to see Rory. It was a simple, dark blue skirt and white with a white-and-blue blouse tucked into it. Actually, she'd be fine wearing anything; she wasn't out to impress anyone, she didn't really need to.
She sat there, bored, while her mother and father discussed finances, and her sister and Benjamina whispered excitedly in the corner. Benjamina was a known fan of Reaver—a wicked, greedy man in Elise's not-so-humble opinion—and kept tittering on about how marvelous it would be if he were to make an appearance at the party, and somehow befriend Elise, and she would bring him home and he would meet her and they would ride off into the sunset and be happily ever after. Elise, who had been uncomfortable at the thought of having to wear a ball gown and wig and pounds of make-up, was sincerely upset at Benjamina, for instigating that she would be friends with such swine as Reaver, the man who controlled a third of Bowerstone.
And so, while everyone was busy she slipped out into the chilly, autumn air. Winter was only a matter of weeks away, though she couldn't have cared less, even if she wanted to. Her parents' babbling had somehow rooted itself into her mind, and now she—who had, minutes before, not bothered to think about petty things like what she wore to the celebration, or what form of transportation she would take-had the nasty feeling that everything was going to build up so high that she was going to explode from all the worrying.
Her train of though was interrupted when she bumped into something. Or rather, someone. A wooden crate crashed to the ground, as did Elise and the other person.
"I'm so sorry!" The someone gushed, clamoring to their feet, and looking guiltily down at their dropped cargo.
"No, no, it's alright…" Elise murmured distractedly, taking a second-look at the someone.
He was a handsome, burly sort of fellow, with short, dark brown hair and a round, friendly face. His kind, hazel eyes looked over Elise in an appraising way, looking for any sign of injury.
"I'm Elise!" She chirped suddenly sticking out her arm for a handshake. He looked taken-aback for a second, then good-naturedly amused. Internally, she smacked herself for her strange behavior, but there was something about this boy—he was a man, really, by the look of him, around the age of eighteen—that made her think that no matter what she did or said, he would always show her this level of friendly kindness.
"Laszlo," He replied, "Are you lost? I'm from Industrial, but I'd like to think I know my way around here."
Elise was about to reply when she heard Benjamina and her sister shouting her name, asking for her to come back inside. Elise latched onto Laszlo's arm, "Want to play hide and seek?" She asked, grinning, "My sister's bloody brilliant at it!"
And they ran. And ran. And then, they ran a little bit more, and then they collapsed from exhaustion, right near the docks in the Old Quarter.
"Well, that was fun," Laszlo said after a few minutes of quiet, shallow breathing. He sat up and nudged her, "But I think the game's over. Let's get you home, eh?"
Elise sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, "In a little while." She frowned, and hugged herself tighter, "I'm tired."
"Liar. I've got to get you home before sundown. And it's setting right now. And it'll take us an hour or so to get back to the Marketplace…"
"And if you hadn't noticed, Laszlo, that's a bit impossible."
"Hey, I'm just being responsible. I don't even know your parents; they'll probably kill us both if you're out late." Laszlo held up his hands in mock surrender to the younger girl.
"I… I know." Elise frowned deeper.
"Then why are you insisting on staying out so late?" He grinned, nudging her shoulder, and added "With a strange boy, too."
"I don't want to talk about it," she said hurriedly, closing her eyes tightly. Maybe, the fact that they wanted her to marry some rich old man would disappear if she just closed her eyes.
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"You're awfully annoying, do you know that?"
"I know, I know," he shrugged her off, "Just let me know what's wrong."
"They're trying to marry me off!" She snapped.
"Oh," he murmured ineloquently.
"They're marrying me off soon and I just…"
"'You just' what?" Laszlo questioned, fiddling with a piece of dead grass.
"I just don't... I want to… I want to play hide-and-seek, and jump around and be a child… I don't want to be somebody's wife," she answered truthfully, in a quiet, almost secretive voice.
"Then you should tell them," he replied almost as quiet, as though this conversation was for them and them alone. In a way, it was. Elise didn't know what she'd do if someone overheard them.
"I can't."
"Hm."
"…I-I just can't. They'll yell, and they'll hate me forever. So I can't just say 'I'm not getting married to an old fart' because I just can't."
He didn't respond; only laid on his back in the grass, with her, staring at the sky in silence. She hated that—the quiet. It reminded her that went she went back, she'd be alone, locked in her room.
"Maybe I should run away."
He looked at her in alarm. "What? You-you can't just do that!"
"Why not?" Elise frowned, "The alternative is marriage—to someone I don't even know."
"That's still better than living on the streets!"
"I could get work!" She protested.
"They don't always hire children." Laszlo frowned, obviously disapproving of such an idea. Elise sighed.
"What do you know, anyway? You work for the Innkeeper."
"I lived in Industrial until a month ago—with my parents 'til I was twelve, with my sister 'til I was fifteen. And then alone. Industrial is not a place for a kid, especially not one that's alone."
"Fine then. I'll go home and get married off like everyone else and I won't live on the streets. Happy?"
"Not when you say it like that."
"But that's how it is."
"Listen… Maybe you don't have to marry an old fart, like you said. Don't you have a sweetheart? Most girls your age do, right?"
Elise nodded.
"Then ask if you can marry him."
She frowned, "It's not that simple, Laszlo."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Just because."
He laughed, "Because? Because he's too poor to take care of you and your future brood of children?"
"I hate you, you know that, right?"
He nodded, smiling good-naturedly, "Of course, of course, but why can't you? Don't you want to?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"What do you mean by that, Elise?"
"I mean," she pouted, "Is that my 'sweetheart' as you so correctly dubbed him, is very much in demand for marriage."
"Oh, so he's rich, then?"
"The richest," Elise confirmed.
"I didn't know Reaver wanted to marry children."
Elise broke into a smile, "I wouldn't put it past him, but that's definitely not who I'm talking about."
"But who else could you be? The richest…"
"Well, his name's Rory…"
"Ror—oh, Prince Rory?"
She nodded, "The very same."
"Doesn't he get to pick?"
"That's the thing—I…" Elise's breath hitched in her throat, and she cleared it nervously, wondering why she had wandered so far from home with a stranger that asked too many questions. She supposed it was because he was honestly good, "I'm not sure he'd even pick me."
"So he's not your sweetheart, then?"
"N-no, he is, we-we've kissed before, twice, I just think that there are… better girls—prettier girls—out for him. I-I just don't know."
"Here, let's make a deal."
"Wh-what?"
"A deal, kid, you know, like a contract? A promise."
"… Okay."
"Do you think, that it would be better, to marry someone that you've only known for a day, than to marry someone you've never met?"
"A day, of course."
"Then," he smiled, "If your Prince doesn't deliver, or if your parents try and force you to go and get married to someone else—would you like to marry me?"
"I-I…"
"Don't know. That's what you're supposed to know about getting married. Nothing." He stood up fully, and she only then realized how tall he was. He reached his hand out to her, and gingerly, she took it.
"I-I thought you were serious."
He paused a moment, "I was serious."
"… What?"
"Do you want to?"
"I-I… I…"
"If Prince doesn't pick you, and they're trying to marry you off, then you can always come and marry me instead." She looked at him, utterly confused, and a bit curious, so he continued.
"Elise, you're a nice kid. And any sort of nice person is rare, and I figure, since you're my friend—we are friends, aren't we?—that-that I just can't stand by and see you marry a stranger. Although, I'm a stranger, I guess."
"Laszlo…"
"No, I can see you don't get it. It's like what a told you before, it's better to marry someone you've known for a day than someone you just met. And I suppose we just met, but tomorrow, it'll be a day."
"L-Laszlo…"
"I'm not asking you to pick me over anyone—hey, I'm offering myself as a last resort. I just don't want you to be unhappy for your entire life—and I think we could keep each other happy."
"I…"
"Elise, listen… It's dark out, and you're an hour away from home."
"I—"
"I think we should—"
"Laszlo, will you listen to me for me bloody second?"
"I…"
"Damn right. I want to talk, and you'll let me. You don't just go and ask a girl if she'd like to marry you, and then go on interrupting her! It's bleeding rude! Now, would you like my answer, or do you want to interrupt me some more?"
"I'd like an answer."
"If I can't," she said seriously, "marry the Prince, or anybody else I should happen to want to marry, I can come to my old friend Laszlo," she grinned, "and we can show my stupid parents exactly what they've done to my poor mind."
And then, from their place in the Old Quarter, they heard the loud clang of the clock in the tower, signaling nighttime.
O.O.O.O
A/N: Took me too long to write. I'mma sleep now, see ya'.
