Disclaimer I do not own any characters, places, or events that have been used to my artistic endeavors from the novel, Ella Enchanted. I am simply having fun with some characters I consider my old friends.
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One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. There are six differently shaped mirrors in the dining hall. Why would anyone want six mirrors in a room used for eating, let alone a mirror in a hexagon shape?
I had hoped, though with low expectations, that I would arrive home from the funeral and retire to my bed chamber with a pot of hot tea and some book to keep my attention. However, much to my disappointment, a dinner had been arranged under my name.
Such a poor attempt. Mother, father, you must have very little patience left.
I did not visit my room for fresh attire, nor did I bother to wash my face or clean my boots. I entered the stately dining hall (which had been prepared for a guest list of twenty or so Kyrrian nobles) in my rain-doused clothes that seemed to stick to every move I made; my feet squashed and squished in my boots that left wet prints every step I took and that had turned brown from my time beneath the willow. I left my hair a mop of wet mess, refusing to put my hat on, and never had I looked so unhappy to be anywhere.
To the utter horror of my parents, who always meant well and against whom I never held a grudge, I arrived at our palace three quarters of an hour late and upon horseback which was once considered "unbefitting" a prince.
I left my horse with the trainer and marched up the steep earthen stairs to the palace entrance. The one feature of the palace I left out is the one feature I both loved and hated. The palace entrance is most aesthetically appealing to the eye; mossy steps conquer the massive hill on which the place rests. The steps are long and large and there are very few in between sea level and the palace, but I was most accustomed to calling them steps because from far away, they do appear to make a lovely stair to the palace. I would sit nearly every afternoon outside, either at the base or the peak of the steps and watch nature flourish on and around it.
I came to despise the steps as, when I grew older, I yearned to venture outside the walls of my home; each step calmed my need for adventure, and by the time I reached the bottom, I no longer wanted to fight ogres or ride with knights; I wanted to go back up the steps and rest within the palace walls.
But I then learned the ways of horseback, and my appreciation for my home in its entirety returned. In this instance, I was attempting to avoid confrontation with my parents about the fact that I had taken out a horse without their permission. Of course, they learned of my treachery, as all parents somehow do, so I walked the steps for no reason other than to be reminded of my hatred for them.
The doors to the palace were surprisingly ajar; too late to question the servants' lapse in judgment I made hurried steps through the door, up the entry stairs and onto the main landing.
"Char, sweet, you are not making many friends with this behavior."
Elsa had been waiting for me at the palace entrance. With dinner already prepared, she was free to do as she liked until breakfast time the next morning, although she adored her work space and spent most of her free time in the kitchen; this was a rare and awkward appearance for her. As was custom, Elsa acted as my pseudo mother in a way a grandmother would for she was always there when I needed something, and she always knew when I had trouble afoot.
"Elsa, I've told you. I don't really care about the 'important' people in there so much as the people I meet out there. Weren't you always the one to teach me that?"
"Yes, yes." She looked at me, studying my features and innocent-looking face. "I do hate it when you throw my words back at me." She grinned; I knew she secretly loved the way in which she influenced my upbringing. She had always told me there were too many princes and not enough rulers. I made it my life's mission to be a hero for the people, not for the wealthy. "Alright, then. You'd best get into dinner before Countess Herring throws her fit again. I swear, that child must get her way or she would make her father go to war for her."
"And you wonder why I detest these dinners."
"Oh, I don't wonder.." Elsa muttered, as she left for the kitchens once more and as I made my dreaded walk past the tapestries, through the gold-inlaid doors, with a forced smile, and into the dining hall.
A long, mahogany table stretched the entire length of the room. Each seat, prepared for twenty guests in total, was occupied except for one, which I assumed was held for me. My mother sat at one end and my father the other; though this was custom during formal dinners, my parents hated being apart for too long, thus dinner was rarely eaten on this table. We opted to dine either in the kitchens with the cooks or else in the drawing room, away from the pomposity that the mahogany and gold-inlay smothered upon us.
I could feel each eye watching me, analyzing my every movement; the Earl of Whatsit and Count of Wherever loved to criticize me because that gave them some hope that I would fail as king and therefore get them one step further to taking the crown. However, only seventy more people would have to fail for them to be crowned king.
I pretended to enter unaware of their stares; I marched loudly through the hall, my boots most ardently announcing their previous engagement with the rain. I greeted my mother with a soft kiss on her hand; I then made the long walk to my father, where we met each other with a bow. Finally, I was able to take my seat in the center of the table, completely exposed to the criticism of my elders and to the caprice of my own actions.
"Do tell us, Your Highness, what kept you so late this evening. We know your courtesy and feared only ogres could have kept you from us for so long." No, I'm afraid I'm eating with the ogres.
The speaker was Sir Henry Gibton, a boy about my age, with no extraordinary talent, gifted with no charm or finesse, and an absolute bore. I dreaded our conversations because his one ability, it seemed, was to make the target of his talk uncomfortable and embarrassed and the ridicule for the evening. My late arrival placed the bull's-eye on my head the instant I walked through the door.
"Oh nothing of the sort, Henry. In fact, I would like to believe it was a much nobler task I was attending to. You must forgive my tardiness, but I was comforting a local maiden over the loss of her mother, a woman I also knew and adored well. She was a wonderful woman; respected in the community as well."
"Oh, indeed, sire. And who might this distraught young lady be?"
"A Miss Ella of Frell, daughter to Sir Peter and Lady Eleanor."
His smug face shone through his confused and thoughtful façade. "I don't believe I have heard of them. Respected, you said? I am not familiar with the family, and I like to believe I know the entirety of who's who in Frell."
I was not embarrassed or ashamed, though I do think many people of my rank would have been. No, I was outraged at his insolence and complete vanity. How dare he speak so of someone he has yet to meet! How dare he speak so of Ella and Lady Eleanor!
I did not have to say anything. A woman down the table (I could not see her face, though I wish I had so that I could send her ten dozen roses in gratitude) replied on queue, "Oh dear Henry, how can assume you know everyone 'who's who,' as you so brashly put it, when you are barely old enough to take seat in High Court meetings! No, I daresay you would probably not know Eleanor; she refused to take part in Frell's show of flamboyancy.
"No, I do believe I met the Lady Eleanor of which you speak, Master Char. I do believe I remember her very well. Quite smitten, I was. As was the whole of the party. Amazing woman. You should have been quite honored to attend her funeral. Quite honored to comfort her daughter." And though I could not see her face, I knew that if I did, she would have been smiling at me throughout; and she would have delivered this last line with a wink.
"There you go, Henry. And thank you, Ma'am. I was very much honored. I will sorely miss Lady Eleanor. And I can only hope to be as much help to Lady Ella." Yes, I plan on learning more about her; I've heard so much already, but I feel like she is still so mysterious. Stop, Char. Now's not the time. Well, I suppose never is the time; when will I find a moment to spare? And how would I go about meeting her and spending time with her?
Not now. Don't think of it now. Don't think of her dirty dress and muddy feet and careless posture. Don't think of her quiet company and tear stained face and shaking smile.
Stop. Now.
But Henry, once again, took me from my thoughts. He had seemingly had enough time to concoct some response. "Well, then, I'm so glad to hear that your tardiness was for a good reason. Very gallant." And with a tone of pure sarcasm, "For the next dinner, I'm sure there will be a wedding near by of another 'person greatly respected.'" Henry laughed heartily and opened his eyes, encouraging those around him to join in his merriment. Only two others found his remark amusing.
"Oh, no. I don't think so. I am a very private person by nature. I wouldn't dream of attending a wedding or funeral unless I truly felt it was in my place to attend. No, indeed." I paused, waiting for an effect. Then to add to the dramatics, "And in fact, it is in my own opinion, if I may speak frankly, that Lady Eleanor was even more respected than Duchess Aria, God may she rest in peace. High Chancellor Thomas performed the ceremony for Lady Eleanor. I do believe your brother was unable to get High Chancellor to marry him, isn't that right, Henry?"
Henry's cheeks turned bright red. "I'm actually uncertain if he every bothered to ask. Thomas is a different man; our family believes he's been a bit lost ever since his wife passed."
"Oh, well, no matter. My family, however, still has the utmost faith in his abilities." Triumph.
"Speaking of faith." My blood turned cold, and the hair on my neck seemed to want to leave the room as fast as the rest of me did. "Prince Charmont, what is your position on the necessity of marriage to complete one's faith?" Sitting two seats to my right and on the other side of the table sat a girl one year older than me, tall, blonde, and stranger than anyone I had ever met.
She was undeniably beautiful. Her golden hair cascaded to her waist; as she pulled the sides back, her highlights seemed to shimmer and glow. Her cerulean eyes were large and ever watchful. Beneath plump, pink lips rested white teeth that needed no correction for they were straight and nearly perfect. Her body formed a type of S-curve that even the most able woman sought to attain; she knew just how to wear her bodice, for she always looked elegant and appealing without seeming undignified or beneath her rank, so to speak. She twisted her head and batted her eyelashes in an innocent, playful way that drew the attention of every man in the room. Every man, except me.
To this day, I am unsure why I could not find myself attracted to this seemingly perfect girl. She was beautiful and poised and exactly what my parents wanted, though they said nothing of the sort.
But Jane had little else, other than exterior beauty. Maybe it was because I never made the full effort to connect with her, but I always found myself eerily disturb by our conversations, or else completely uninspired. She found local gossip most appealing, and I would often find her staring into my eyes not for romance sake, but for the mere purpose of catching a glimpse of a reflection of the face she adored most, her own.
To top all, Jane wanted me. She could have had any and every man in Frell, but she managed to single me out as the object of her desire. She wanted my wealth and notoriety, no doubt; I was not bought by her charm and beauty. In fact, it was her seeming flawlessness that turned me away from her in the first place. I didn't feel like I was actually talking or sitting or eating when I was around her. I felt like I couldn't say the wrong thing. I was intimidated, I hate to say, and I didn't like it.
I lurched in my seat. Oh God, what do you say to that? What does she mean by faith and marriage? She is too dull to find a better transition into asking me when, where and who I will marry. Generic answer. Just give her a vague, non-committal answer.
"I think that faith is whatever you want it to be. I don't think there are specific categories we must fulfill in order to be a person with faith. I think faith is there to serve us. Not vice versa." There, that was a decent answer to a terrible question.
"Yes, but what of growth?"
"Yes," I looked around to see if others were as bewildered as I, "and about growth?"
"Wasn't it the great historian Tribkas who said, 'Marriage is growth of the soul; growth is confirmation of faith'?"
"Er," I was sure she had made up the historian and his coined phrase to make her point, "I never was one for quotes. I'm not sure." End of conversation. Back to dinner.
An awkward pause ensued in which everyone returned to their meal, except Jane who sat as if time had frozen, thinking about how to keep the topic alive. Apparently she could think of nothing eloquent, because she continued, "Yes, sire, but what about continuity?"
I looked up at her from behind my bowl of pea soup. Mid sip, I replied hastily, "What about it?" Most of the guests then stopped listening. All I wanted was to eat in peace. I was annoyed.
"Well, Char," I hated the way my named was forced off her tongue; it didn't roll off casually, but harshly and with too much emphasis. "Doesn't faith rely on continuation of yourself. That, by marrying and reproducing, only then can you reach immortality."
"Yes, but only a fool would wish to be immortal. I simply seek to be faithful." Jane shut her mouth sharply; she was not offended only because she was unable to process exactly what I had said.
"Charmont." My father interrupted. He gave the most upraising look her could muster before he continued for me, "We have decided, the three of us, that Char will marry. He has the rest of this year, and the entirety of the following year which he will spend in Ayortha, to find his bride. If he is unable to do so, we shall be forced to pick for him. Of course, we hope it will not come to that." He sent a sympathetic look my way; I averted his eyes, not wanting to accept the veracity of his words. Could I possibly end up marrying someone I did not love? Could I be forced in wedlock? Char, prince of Kyrria, with no little choice in any matters pertaining to his life.
I looked up and found Jane smiling at me as if she could see into the future. Apparently, things were looking good for her. Our eyes locked and another chill ran through my body. I looked away and pretended to focus on my meal.
The rest of the night, I avoided any contact with Jane and my parents. After I gave my adieus to the guests, I made a beeline straight for the hallway leading to the west wing, my corner of the palace.
The lock clicked behind me as I walked dejectedly toward my bed. I paused, stared at the bronze sheets for several seconds, then threw myself on them.
What is it about her that so wholeheartedly disgusts me? She's gorgeous. And she's well mannered. But she is dull. And humorless. What is most disconcerting is the fact that she is conniving in a way that is natural to her. She may not have the brains, but she still understands what it means to win dirty. Something like that I refused to accept in people.
I managed to slip my damp boots off and kicked them under my bed. I stripped quickly and jumped beneath the covers. The light shone dimly over the room; it reached to every corner of the room I saw only at night. I could see my knights armor reflect the soft light. My journal was hidden behind a trick latched door just to the left of the armor. I yearned to write, but my body would not let me move from the enveloping bed.
My eyes were unfocused and tired. My head ached from my horrific encounter with marriage talk, and my mind swirled in and out of the words of both my father and Jane. The light went out; my thoughts grew fainter until, just before they swirled into the oblivion of sound slumber, a girl in muddy attire flashed before my mind; her shaking grin and faltering indignation caught me like a hiccup in my soul, and her weeping form was all I could see the rest of the night.
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I hope this chapter was somewhat interesting!! I'm thinking it might lead to something later on.. and I'm sosososo sorry it's taken me this long to update it. Hopefully I'll be writing more; but I do leave for college mid August, so the story might take a very short break then. However I do intend to complete it. Let me know if things are still looking good!