"Now I want to get married!" Adella huffed once Ariel left. The girls had returned to their room and, having nothing to do until lunchtime, began to talk.
"Oh, Adella!" Attina scolded lightly. "You know marriages don't all work like that. Besides, Ariel and Eric are still in their honeymoon stage, as they say."
"Nuh-uh! They got back from their honeymoon months ago!"
"That's not what it means, Adella!" Alana chimed in. "It means they're still all sweet on each other, and everything's all peachy and rosy and that."
"Well, what else is supposed to happen?"
"Nothing else is really supposed to happen – stuff just does! Stuff always goes wrong, and it's just that nothing has yet!" Alana explained.
"They'll still love each other! She loves Eric more than anything, I know it! And he's gotta love her back, he's proved that."
"We're not saying they don't love each other, we're just saying there's been nothing to test that!"
"There was a sea witch!"
"Nothing since they were married!"
"What? Is there supposed to be a post-marriage sea witch now?"
"I don't know! Listen, all I'm trying-"
"Girls, girls!" Attina held up both her hands and everyone hushed up. "This is not something worth fighting over!"
Artista seemed to get the hint first and chimed in, breaking the flow of the argument and changing topics. "So, Adella, what kind of boy are you interested in, exactly?"
"Well," Adella leaned back and thought for a minute. "Someone cute, of course."
"Of course." Several girls echoed at once, giggling.
Adella stuck out her tongue at them and continued. "Maybe royal, it'd be nice. Someone very sweet and courtly, who'd pay me a lot of attention, and remember my favorite things."
"Did you meet anyone at the ball who could fit that description?" Andrina smiled.
"Well, no, but I spent most of the time with you guys, so that didn't exactly help my search efforts." Adella shrugged.
"You so did meet someone!" Artista gasped suddenly, just remembering.
"What? Who? No I didn't!" Adella insisted.
"Well, you didn't really talk to him, but he was there! I was with you – it was when we were looking for Ariel, to show her the gift! Don't you remember?"
"Who!?" The other sisters collectively demanded, tired of waiting for Artista to reveal the mystery man.
"Alright, alright!" Artista burst out in a smile. "Duke Devon!"
"Oh, no!" Adella shook her head vigorously, and the other sisters had similar reactions.
"Well, why not? I don't know him that well, admittedly – I don't think we've even ever talked – but I haven't heard anything foul about him. And he was certainly being polite to Ariel, or at least looking like he was being polite, and that's something!"
"He's just so – so"
"So what?"
"Creepy!" Alana chimed in. "He's so overstuffed and overformal and…foppish!"
"Foppish?"
"Yes! He's a dandy, a fool! His language is so burdensome, and he seems like he's using every word he knows in each sentence! He can never ask for something, he must," at this point, she sat up straight and launched into an accent, "beg your pardon, dear madam, if it is not quite a burden, may I inquire as to the possibility of obtaining the salt?" she relaxed into her normal posture. "Dear Lord! Sometimes I wish he'd just scream 'SALT' and get the interaction over with!"
"Oh, but he seems harmless. So he's a little old fashioned, that's not too bad." Artista smiled weakly.
"But it's not just old fashioned, he carries himself with such a…predatory air! Like he's always waiting to swoop in and inquire as to the possibility of something else!" Adella insisted.
"Oh, I'm sure I don't know what you mean!"
"I'm not even sure I do!" Adella laughed. "I can't name anything foul the man has actually done, I can't back up my claims with anything, I'm just saying, he doesn't feel right, and I'm not going to go seek him out at the next party."
"Maybe he's perfectly nice – you don't know!"
"I don't!" Adella agreed. "All I'm saying, is I'm not exactly keen to find out."
…
Adella was right, Duke Devon hadn't done anything wrong. He was one of the more ignored members of society, invited to the parties and events based more on his title than anything else. He lived quietly in a mansion of mild size, if such an oxymoron exists, on the southern side of the kingdom. It was overstaffed and overpolished, but Devon loved it. It was a very old home, like a castle of his very own, with history steeped into the walls.
Even though so many rooms were seldom or never used, he couldn't find it in his heart to remodel it, lest it lose some of its old charm. So he merely instructed the staff to never enter certain corridors or cellars, and he allowed those rooms to age, blocked off from the rest of the pristine house. They were nothing of substantial importance anyway. There were some sitting rooms, a few bedrooms, nothing he didn't have scattered over the rest of the house. Their purpose was initially for showing off wealth and, well, Devon didn't exactly have anyone to show off to.
The head maid would go into each closed-off room once a year, give it a real good once over in order to make sure that nothing was damaged in any way. As long as the only issues were dust and cobwebs, she considered the present cleaning schedule fine. She would clean it up until it shown like it could be presented to company, and then lock it back up until she would see it again.
The head maid knew she would have to go clean these rooms up again, but she was getting older, and it was such an arduous task, that she kept putting it off as long as possible. There was enough to do around the rest of the mansion, and Duke Devon never let company in the locked rooms anyway. Surely it could be allowed to slip, just a bit. She knew that he would bring it up within the coming months, and she'd get to it. Soon, hopefully, but not now.
This old woman, as she continued bustling around the house, had no idea as to the impact and importance of that decision.
…
"We're hosting another party."
Normally, the first thing Eric said at breakfast was 'good morning' or 'how are you', so such an abrupt greeting startled Ariel.
"What? Oh, okay." She nodded, assuming this meant everything was going better. "What are we celebrating?"
"We aren't." Eric said darkly. "Ariel, I really need you at this party."
"Of course, Eric. I wouldn't go anywhere else."
"No, I don't think you understand. But I should explain more. We're hosting some of the higher-ups in our country – dignitaries and important merchants. We need to make sure they're keeping an eye out for any significant political unrest in our region as well. We need to get them on our side, and make sure they don't aid in any potential….anythings."
"Wouldn't they automatically be on our side?"
"It's not always that simple, Ariel." Eric sighed, moving his breakfast around absentmindedly. "Every man has his own reasons, and we can't afford for any of those thoughts to get into peoples' heads. Especially people with a lot of money, power, and influence. The most important thing right now is stability, and I'm taking a lot of precautions to ensure that we have that."
"Okay." Ariel nodded, determined to help. "What do you need me to do?"
Eric smiled at her, weakly. "I need you to be charming. You always are, but moreso than usual. I need everyone at that party to feel at ease, to be comfortable in this castle, to be comfortable with…us. And," he laughed, "let's face it, you're the more charming of the two of us."
"Oh Eric, you know that's not true."
"Whatever you may think, I'm sure you have a much better chance of charming a few burly old merchants than I do. Be witty, be lively, capture their attention. If everyone leaves happy, I'll feel more secure."
"Of course, Eric! I'll help Carlotta plan the whole thing, I'm thinking that maybe-"
"No." Eric cut her off. "Everything has to be organized very specifically – we're going for traditional here, we want to remind everyone of tradition. Of loyalty. Of what monarchy has brought to this country. Grim and Carlotta already know, and they're handling everything."
"Oh." Ariel said softly. Just like that, visions of paper flowers and lacy tablecloths vanished from her head. But she understood. There was more at stake here than just a few decorating ideas. "That's fine."
"Sorry." Eric said softly. "I don't mean to be snappy, it's just, there's a lot of pressure coming from the other rulers to keep this region stable, and I'm just concerned that people here will get wind of what the other countries and doing, and decide that they need to start protesting and –"
"Eric," Ariel reached for his hand, squeezing it firmly. "You don't have to be concerned. You're the kindest ruler this country has ever seen, I know it. They have nothing to complain about – how could they?"
Eric pressed his lips into a thin line. "I just wish they could see it the way you do. But I'm afraid they won't."
"They will." Ariel assured him. "There's a reason it hasn't started up here yet – because it's not going to."
Eric sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
Ariel tried again to get him to speak. "When is the party?"
"Three days." Eric mumbled, still resting his head on his hand.
"I'll be ready when they come." Ariel said confidently, squeezing his hand again. "We all will."
…
Ariel had met a few of the dignitaries before, but not all of them, and none of the merchants. Half a dozen burly, sullen-looking men and their wives arrived around six. One man immediately demanded a drink, but the rest seemed fine with waiting a few minutes, eyeing the staff and waiting for it to be brought to them.
Everyone was on their toes, trying to move quickly without rushing, working to make sure that everyone was constantly and consistently happy with their evening. It seemed that the people saw right through Eric's ruse, and knew that he wanted something from them. They were ruder to the staff, louder over drinks, and didn't seem to adhere to basic conversational niceties.
"So, how much did Eric spend on that dress for you? I bet it was over 200 to bring that back from London." A merchant gestured to Ariel's purple dress, eyeing her like livestock at a fair.
Ariel flushed at both his gaze and the boldness of his question, and tried to deflect it in a way that was as charming as possible. "Oh, I'm not sure. I'm quite convinced Eric has a special fairy of some sort, who just conjures up these beautiful things."
"That means more than 200…" the man mumbled into his drink, taking another gulp.
"Patrick, be nice!" his wife warned, flicking out her fan. She turned her gaze on Ariel. "But darling, do tell exactly where he got it. I've been dying to have something new, something modern."
"Great," Patrick gruffed. "Now you're gonna have my wife spend all my money. Promise you'll keep the fashion to a minimum."
Ariel felt suddenly very ashamed. "Of-of course." She stammered, gazing anywhere but into that man's eyes, scanning the room, maybe for an escape-
"Oh, honey, he's just teasing you!" the woman insisted, chuckling. "You mustn't be so uptight."
"Ah, oh, I'm sorry." Ariel forced out a little laugh. "It was very funny." She lied.
"See, Patrick?" his wife scolded. "I told you no one likes your humor."
"No, no!" Ariel insisted urgently. "It was very funny, I supposed I'm just a bit lightheaded tonight, that's all. Maybe a snack-" she excused herself quickly after this, and rushed out of the ballroom at a prompt pace, hoping to not draw attention.
"Ariel!"
But of course she would always have one person's.
"Eric, I just need a minute-"
"What's wrong?" he cupped her face and looked down at her.
"Nothing, nothing." She mumbled.
"Ariel, I mean it. Please tell me."
"Oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed, slumping a little. "I don't get how these people think – it's like there's no social rules anymore! They just say whatever they're thinking, even if it isn't nice!"
"Who's been being mean to you?" Eric looked out at what he could see of the room.
"No one!" Ariel quickly lied. "It's not important." She corrected. "We need these people to like us, and it's just a lot of pressure."
"I know." Eric sighed, pulling her closer. "And I'm sorry for putting it on you. But we need these people's support, and I know you can win it, if anyone can."
Ariel looked up at Eric, and she saw how much he needed her. The circles under his eyes were getting darker, and she knew they were deepening every hour he wasn't in bed, holing himself up instead in his study, writing letters, writing invitations, thinking of ideas. His hair was oilier than usually, and she knew he got too distracted and forgot to wash it. He had missed a spot shaving, he didn't put on his sash quite straight, and his shoulders rolled forward in a way they didn't usually do.
Eric had been putting pressure on her, yes, but he had been putting more pressure on himself.
And out of love, only out of love, Ariel sucked it up and went back out to the group, to host the first party she didn't enjoy.
Review, please!