Disclaimer: It was difficult to write up the monologues in a way that didn't make them look like a weirdo who was just talking to the air. So they're just sort of talking to themselves... out loud. In future chapters some of the dialogue might be in the form of thought as to make it more realistic. But I think it played out well, for now. Again, I own nothing. Enjoy! :)
Regina watched from a dark corner as her brother and the princess danced and spoke. She watched their faces carefully, searching for some sign of how the courtship was coming. When Snow smiled and hugged Lancelot before leaving the dance floor, she knew this was her moment.
Regina moved across the ballroom to the man she knew to be Sir David, who watched as Lancelot and Snow said their farewells.
"Why are you alone, good knight? You should be on the dance floor, escorting a lady," she said seductively. He nodded and offered his arm for a dance. She smiled as he led her to the floor. They began to dance quietly as David looked around the room, most likely for his princess. "I sense my brother is enamored with Princess Snow and has broken with her father to discuss it." David's mouth dropped and she secretly smiled, her plan was working. "Are not you Sir Killian?"
He cleared his throat, "You know me well, mate," he tried to smirk in an imitation of Killian as he tried to mimic his accent, "I am he."
"You are very near to my brother; he trusts and loves you wholeheartedly. He is enamored with dear Snow; but I pray you, dissuade him from her. She may be worthy of his claim, but he must stay loyal to his service," she said, trying to speak lovingly of her brother.
"How do you know he loves her?" David asked, his voice growing wary.
He took the bait, now she had to reel him in. "I heard him swear his affection; he swore he would marry her tonight." The song ended, and by the look on his face, Regina felt satisfied with the mischief she'd managed. "Thank you, Sir Killian." She curtsied and walked off the floor.
David was frozen in his place. Only when the music started up again and a couple was about to run into him did he make his way out the door and to the courtyard. When he made his way out there, he released his anger.
"I answer in the name of Killian, but hear these ill news with the ears of David. It must be certain: Lancelot wooes for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent; for beauty is a witch against whose charms faith melt into blood. This is an accident of hourly proof, which I mistrusted not," he sighed in defeat as he thought of his Princess, feeling his heart crush along with his dreams. "Farewell, therefore, Snow."
He heard the doors behind him open and David quickly wiped away the single tear that had fallen down his cheek, clearing his throat. Sir Killian approached him, a smile on his face.
"Sir David!" Killian announced.
"The same."
"Come, will you go with me?" he offered to the direction of the ball room. David gave him a curious look. "What fashion will you wear the crown in? About your neck, like a mobster's chain? Or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? Or perhaps instead, a garland made of flowers? You must wear it one day: for the good knight has gotten your Snow."
David scoffed, trying to hide his sorrow. "I wish him joy of her."
"Why," Killian said as he moved a step closer, trying to inspect his friend's face, "that's spoken like an honest drovier, so they sell bullocks. But did you think the knight would have served you thus?"
David waved the man off, "I pray you, leave me."
"Hey!" Killian said defensively, "Now you strike like the blind man. Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. Do not blame the messenger."
"If it will not be, I'll leave you!" David shouted as he made his exit back to the ball room, leaving Killian standing alone in the courtyard.
"Poor hurt fowl." Killian looked around the courtyard for a moment, trying to figure out what it was he was exactly feeling. He hadn't felt cheerful since his dance with Swan. He sighed, kicked the ground under his foot, and tried to talk to himself to figure out what exactly was wrong with him. "But that my Lady Swan should know me, and not know me! The knight's fool?" he looked down at himself, "Ha? It may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yay but so I am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed. It is the base, though bitter, disposition of Swan that puts the world in her person and so gives me out. Well," he pulled out his trusty flask, taking a long swig of its contents inside, "I'll be revenged as I may."
He turned to the sound of Sir Lancelot making his way towards him. "Ah, Killian! Where is David? Have you seen him?"
"Truth, mate, I have played the part of Lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren," Killian explained. "I told him, and I think I told him true, that your grace had got the good will of this young lady. I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped."
"Whipped? What's his fault?" Lancelot asked.
"The flat transgression of a school boy," Killian rolled his eyes, "who, being overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it."
Lancelot crossed his arms, "Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer."
"Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too. For the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds' nest."
"Are you saying he thinks I have stolen his bride?" Lancelot asked. Killian chuckled, nodding. "I will teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner."
"If their singing answer your singing, by my faith, you say honestly."
Lancelot laughed as Killian turned to take another sip from his flask. "Princess Emma," Lancelot changed the subject, to which Killian perked up at her name, "has a quarrel with you. The gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you."
Killian's mouth dropped, "Oi! She misused me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her. My very mask began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the knight's jester!" Sir Lancelot tried to restrain his laughter. "And that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at me." He shook his head, not able to stop himself from expressing his annoyance. "She speaks daggers, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there would be no living near her. She would infect to the north star." He heard Lancelot chuckle as he listened to his rambles. "I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before he sinned. She would have made Hercules have turned spit, and have cleft his club to make the fire too." Killian sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "Come, talk not of her," Lancelot held up his hands, as he had not spoken of her since Killian had started. "I will to God some scholar would conjure her. For certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in sanctuary. Indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her."
Laughter came from the doorway to the ballroom. "Look, here she comes," Lancelot warned as Emma walked out to the courtyard, accompanied by some of the people inside including the King, Snow, and David amongst the crowd.
Killian groaned, desperate for an escape before they approached them. "Will your grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Atipodes that you can devise to send me on." Lancelot laughed at the knight's begging for dismissal. "I will fetch you a tooth-pick now from the furthest inch of the kingdom, bring you the length of a giant's foot, fetch you a hair off the head of a Jabberwocky – rather than hold three words' of welcome with her company. Have you no employment for me?"
Lancelot laughed at his desperate knight, "None, but to desire your good company."
"Oh god, mate, here's a dish I love not," Killian groaned as Emma and the others made their way towards them. "I cannot endure my Princess Tongue."
And with that he made his way past the group and to the ball room.
Emma watched as Killian made his exit, coyly looking at her as he did.
"Come, princess, come," Lancelot sang as he pulled Emma in for an embrace. "You have lost the heart of Sir Killian."
"Indeed, my sir. He lent it to me awhile and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one," Emma laughed. "Marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it."
"You have put him down, lady. You have put him down," Lancelot teased.
She chuckled, "So I would not he should do me, my sir. Lest I should prove the mother of fools." She turned and pulled on the arm of Sir David, who was still sulking and hadn't come with her willingly. "I have brought you Sir David, whom you sent me to seek."
Lancelot pat David's shoulder. "Why, how now, sit! Why are you sad?"
"Not sad, my sire," David replied dryly.
"Sick?"
"Neither."
"The sire is neither sad, nor sick," Emma teased. "Nor merry, nor well. But civil. Civil as an orange and something of that jealous complexion."
"My! I believe you may be right, m'lady. Though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false." Lancelot turned to pull Snow to his side. "Here, David, I have wooed in thy name. And fair Snow abides. I have broke with her father, the king, and his good-will obtained." David's face lit up as his words finally broke through. "Name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!"
The King held his daughter in front of him as he pulled her into a hug. "Sir David, take of me my daughter. And with her the throne. His Grace has made the match, Amen."
Emma watched as the poor soul stood silently, dumbstruck as he looked upon Snow. Emma nudged him, "Speak, David, tis your cue."
The crowd laughed as David smiled and took Snow's hands into his. "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Princess, as you are mine, I am yours. I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange."
Snow also stood speechless as she smiled brightly at her knight. Emma rolled her eyes and nudged her also. "Speak, sister. Or if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss and don't let him speak either."
Snow did just that as she jumped into his arms and embraced him with a kiss. The crowd cheered in their honor.
Sir Neal turned his attention back to Emma, who was smiling warmly at her sister. "In faith, princess, you have a merry heart."
"Aye, Sir. I think it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My sister tells him in his ear that he is in her heart," she said as she pointed to Snow, who was whispering to David.
David laughed, "And so she does, sister."
"Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!" Emma said sarcastically.
"Princess Emma," Neal said as they stepped aside from the group, "I will get you one!"
Emma laughed, "I would rather have one of your knighthood adventures."
"Will you have me, m'lady?" Neal asked shyly.
Emma chuckled as she playfully nudged the knight away. When she looked up, he had a look of shame on his face that revealed his sincerity. She immediately sobered and covered her mouth, afraid she had hurt his feelings. "No, my sire. For I, unlike my sister, cannot love on sight nor at will. You are honorable, but my soul is too wild to tame. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter."
Neal smiled and reached out to take her hand in his. "It is your silence that most offends me. To be merry best becomes you. For, out of question, you were born in a merry hour."
She looked down as she tried to force a smile. "I would not know, my sire. But I feel a star danced, and under that I was born." She turned to her sister who was glowing with happiness. "Sister, God give you joy!" She hugged Snow.
"Emma, will you go check on the guests inside?" King Leopold asked.
Emma curtsied, "I cry you mercy, father. By your grace's pardon."
Neal nodded to the others as he also made his exit, sore from being turned down so quickly.
As Emma left, Lancelot watched her go. She was almost skipping with happiness for her sister.
"By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady," he said to the King.
He chuckled. "There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then. For I have heard her sister say, she has often dreamed of unhappiness and woken herself with laughter."
"She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband," Lancelot observed.
"Oh, by no means. She mocks all her wooers out of suit," the King answered.
Lancelot chuckled, "She would be an excellent wife for Sir Killian."
The King, Snow, and David laughed. "Oh my grace. If they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad."
"David, when do you mean to go to church?" Lancelot asked the couple.
David smiled down to his bride, "Tomorrow, my sire. Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites."
"Not until Monday, my son," the King replied.
"Sir David, the time shall not go dully by us," Lancelot insisted, "I will take upon myself one of Hercules' labors: to bring Sir Killian and Princess Emma into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will minister as I shall give you direction."
The King laughed, "Oh, my sire, I am for you. If for the better of my daughter."
"As are we," Snow said excitedly. "I will do any modest office to help my sister to a good husband."
Sir Lancelot rejoiced, "And Killian is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him, he is of a noble strain of approved valor and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humor your sister so that she shall fall in love with Killian. And I, with David and the King's help, will so practice on Killian that, in despite of his quick wit and queasy stomach he shall fall in love with Emma." The others shared in his excitement. "If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer. His glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods! Come, I will tell you of my plan."
And thus the group happily made their way back to the ball room to rejoin the others. The party continued merrily far into the night.
"celestria06: Woohoo loving it" Yay! :) I'm glad!
