o n c e · u p o n · a · t i m e

c h a p t e r · xi : h y p n o t i z e d

Syaoran sighed as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, frustrated. He could see glimpses of the sky turning a faint lavender as the sun continued its descent into the west. The shadows of the trees around him grew longer. He glanced at the rather large, and very tall tree behind him, a tinge of red creeping across his face as his eyes travelled to the shimmering peach gown lying carelessly on the ground near his feet. A pair of gold-embroidered satin slippers was strewn next to them. Jewels littered the ground haphazardly.

Hand closing about the hilt of the sword against his waist, Syaoran berated himself silently. How could you get lost? How?!

"You'd think I'd know the way to my own castle," he muttered darkly, crossing his arms about his chest.

The Countess must have had sharper ears than he had expected, because she called back to him.

"Why is it that men never ask for directions?" she asked, laughter in her voice. "Would it have been too much of a strain on your royal reputation?"

"Perhaps," Syaoran replied wryly. "Maybe it was also because…there was no one in this confounded forest to ask!"

Sakura didn't answer. Instead, silence met Syaoran's ears for the next few moments.

"I see it!" she called finally. "The castle!"

"Really?" Syaoran scrambled to attention. "Where?"

"It's southwest of here," Sakura replied. "Back that way. You've been leading us in the wrong direction, sire!"

"Well, I'll be damned," Syaoran muttered under his breath. He craned his neck, trying to discern the top of the tree in front of him. "And I still can't believe that I'm twiddling my thumbs down here, while you're all the way up there!" he called.

And in your undergarments too, no less, he finished, too polite to say so out loud.

Sakura grinned at him from her perch at the top of the tree, though she could barely see him.

"What would you expect?" she demanded. "That I let you come up here, and let myself wait down there, alone and unprotected?"

"You? Unprotected?" Syaoran's scepticism was quite believable. "I refuse to believe it. You swim alone, climb trees, rescue servants…with pastimes such as those, you'd be able to protect yourself very well, I expect!"

"Perhaps," Sakura replied. "But if you climbed this tree, you might break your royal neck. And then where would we be?"

Syaoran gritted his teeth, knowing the Countess was deliberately teasing him.

"Just come down here," he ordered. "We're late as is."

Sakura raised her eyebrows.

"I'm coming," she answered. "Turn around, and don't you dare look."

Syaoran complied, his thoughts disturbed. Why did she have to take off her gown? he demanded. Well, the answer was obvious. It was clearly impractical to climb such a tall tree with that gown on, but all the same…the strange and rather crude desire to see the Countess' body overwhelmed him. He shook himself violently, trying to rid himself of it. He was a gentleman, after all. Although he had never quite felt this way before…

It's Countess Nadeshiko, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. You're obsessed with her. She's driving you crazy…

Wham!

Stars danced in front of Syaoran's eyes as a fist connected to his mouth forcefully. He landed painfully on his rear, dazed. It took him a good three seconds before he realized that he had just been punched in the face. As the world steadied itself around his head, he could see that a group of motley men had surrounded him. The one that had punched him grinned wickedly, revealing a row of sharp, yellowing teeth.

"Hello there, Your Highness," he said in a thick accent, leering. "Remember me?"

Syaoran frowned, thinking fast. The gypsy seemed familiar. Then he remembered.

"Oh no," he groaned, getting to his feet. "It's you again…"

The gypsy clapped his hands, beckoning to his comrades. It was the same band that had attempted to rob Clow Reed of his book a few days earlier. And the one who had stolen the book was the one who was drawing a rusty, yet sharp-looking dagger. His eyes glared maliciously into Syaoran's face.

Syaoran anticipated the gypsy's next move, sidestepping him swiftly as the gypsy lunged. Caught off balance, the gypsy swayed dangerously. Within moments, Syaoran had whipped out his sword and disarmed the man, catching his dagger in his left arm. Brandishing the two blades warningly, he called up to Sakura, to warn her.

"Don't come down, Nadeshiko!" he yelled. "There are gypsies here."

He had to pray that the Countess had heard, because he had no time to say any more. Another gypsy had flung a knife toward his face, and with a gasp, Syaoran knocked the blade away with a flick of his sword. The knifepoint buried itself into the tree trunk.

With a yell, the entire band of gypsies charged toward Syaoran. One solitary gypsy waited, watching amusedly. He was obviously their leader. His band would weaken the prince. It was up to him to finish him off.

Syaoran parried one blade, ducked as two more came rushing in over his head, and turned around, knocking the wind out of three men as he drove the flat of the rusty dagger into their stomachs. They fell to their feet, winded as Syaoran swung his sword, desperately aiming for the opposing gypsy's arm. Not to kill him, but to wound him.

The gypsy parried his blade, and jabbed toward Syaoran's shoulder. Quick as a flash, Syaoran ducked beneath the offending sword, and, spinning around in a crouch, caught the gypsy in a spectacular kick to the stomach. He straightened himself, felt the approach of more men from behind, and whipped around just in time to lock his own two blades against the swords of the two gypsies now in front of him.

Get your back to a tree, Syaoran thought, his eyes roving around him. So they can't get you from behind.

Still maintaining the tension between the opposing blades, Syaoran willed himself to take three steps back, to where a giant tree was. It might have worked, had there not been an exposed root lying in the way of his feet. His foot connected with this, and Syaoran fell backward. The two gypsies fell with him, face forward, landing in a heap, one on either side. Syaoran lay on the ground, his own blades still parrying the gypsies' swords, dangerously close to his neck.

He somersaulted backward, his arms flying outward, freed from the oppression of the offending swords. He looked behind him, making sure there were no obstructions in his path. A blow to his left arm sent the rusty dagger spiralling out of his hand.

Syaoran staggered backward, his back against the old tree. The two gypsies righted themselves, preparing to charge. Syaoran's left arm was numb. His grip on his sword tightened as the two gypsies charged. He extended his left leg, sending one man flying back six feet before landing in a heap. The other, he swung his sword, but he was growing tired, and the gypsy swung his own sword with two hands, twisting Syaoran's arm so that it lay against the tree, the sword in his hand locked by the gypsy's. Syaoran tried to free himself, but he found himself pinned against the tree as well, the gypsy throwing his weight against Syaoran's body.

I'm doomed, Syaoran thought desperately. Now the leader will come and finish me off. I'm so tired. At least Nadeshiko is safe.

His ears suddenly registered the leader of the gypsies calling in alarm. His eyes roving to the scene, he saw the Countess come from out of nowhere, landing on the gypsy's back. They both landed on the ground. The Countess was swifter than the bulkier man, and got to her feet, her eyes roving for a discarded weapon. The gypsies were too fast for her. Two of them jumped her from behind, grabbing her arms in an iron grip.

Syaoran's heartbeat quickened. The Countess was in danger.

Oh no you don't, he thought angrily. The feeling beginning to return in his left hand, free from the gypsy's weight, he flexed his fingers, drew his arm back and sent a lightning fast punch to the gypsy's nose. He heard something crunch, and blood spurted across Syaoran's vision as the man staggered backward, nursing his broken nose.

Syaoran charged to where the two men held the Countess. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he let out a roar and leaped upon one of the men holding Sakura. Driving his fist into the side of the man's head, Syaoran felt the other man draw close to him. Swords were useless at his range, he realized, sheathing his at lightning speed. He sucked in his breath, fisting his hands around the other, and spun around. His elbows crashed against the man's forehead, and the man collapsed, stirring feebly. Syaoran whirled around, his amber eyes searching wildly for the Countess.

He stopped when a swordblade appeared, an inch from his throat. Syaoran tore his eyes from the blade tickling his throat to the gypsy who carried it. The leader of the band met his eyes steadily, as around them, groaning men got to their feet.

Syaoran sensed that Countess Nadeshiko was still standing at his side. He reached for her blindly, and pushed her behind him. The motion sent a clear message. He would die before he let any of the gypsies touch her.

"A strange prize," the gypsy commented. "You guard her well."

Syaoran didn't dare reach for his sword. The swordtip against his throat was menacing.

"Leave her alone," he replied coldly. "Your fight is with me."

The gypsy rose an eyebrow. Syaoran noticed that the gypsy's left arm was held somewhat cautiously, as though it had been injured. He remembered the Countess crashing into him. Why had she come down when he had warned her not to? Then another gypsy approached, grinning as he waved something peach and satiny.

Nadeshiko's dress.

"My wife thanks you for the fine garment, my lady," the gypsy leered. Syaoran felt his blood boiling. His hands itched to break the man's neck, but he held them quite still. The gypsy's sword was still held purposefully to his throat.

The Countess stepped out from behind Syaoran, authoritative though she stood only in a white under-dress.

What are you doing? Syaoran thought wildly. Get back here before you get yourself killed!

"I insist that you return my things at once," Sakura said quietly, her green eyes fixed on the gypsy who carried her dress. As the leader of the gypsies began to shake with laughter, she turned to glare at him.

"And you, sir," she said regally. The gypsy straightened, fighting laughter. "Since you deprived me of my escort, I demand a horse as well."

Syaoran stood, flabbergasted. Countess Nadeshiko must have had nerves of steel, he decided. And a spine made of stronger stuff than most men he knew.

The look on the gypsy leader's face was quite funny. He stood there, gaping at the lady, who stared frozenly back at him, defiant in her undergarments even! He was wondering whether she was serious, and after much debate, decided that Countess Amamiya was not someone to be taken lightly.

"My lady," he replied, his body shaking with mirth as he lowered the sword. "I am truly sorry for my actions. As compensation, you can leave safely. With anything you can carry."

If he expected the young lady to look worried, or even fazed, he was sorely disappointed. An odd look came into Sakura's eyes, as she absorbed the gypsy's words, and glared at him again.

"Do I have your word on it, sir?" she inquired, somewhat more politely. Syaoran could have laughed at the situation if not for the precariousness of it. The gypsy, obviously disarmed by the unexpected courage of the tough Countess, was still unable to see her as a real threat to them.

"On my honour as a gypsy," he said finally, grinning. "Whatever you can carry out of here is yours."

That's perfect, Syaoran thought. That doesn't leave her with much. She can get her gown and jewels back, but the horse? How is she supposed to carry a horse out of here?

Sakura's intentions became horribly clear to him as she stepped in between him and the leader of the gypsies. Watching the shock in the man's eyes reflect his own, Syaoran felt the brave Countess bend down before him, before being hoisted into the air and laid awkwardly across Sakura's strong shoulders.

Syaoran could not believe this. He was being rescued – no – carried away from danger. By a young Countess in her undergarments!

The gypsies' mouths dropped open. It must have been quite a sight, as Sakura nodded curtly to their leader, and took step by careful step onto the path, carrying Prince Syaoran across her shoulders away from them.

The gypsy band burst into laughter at the sight of it, waiting for the young lady to collapse under the prince's weight. But it did not happen. She made her way slowly, but surely down the path, with no intention of dropping him.

"Do you think she means to carry him all the way to the castle!" one gypsy exclaimed.

"I doubt she'd make it," another commented.

"She's strong," one snorted. "I'll wager she could do it, and come back for a horse, too!"

The gypsies rolled around in laughter.

"What do you say we do?" one of the gypsies asked the leader, who was observing Sakura's progress with mirth on his face. "Do we follow them and finish them off?"

The leader shook his head, grinning.

"Nah," he said. "It'd be a waste. As much as I hate royalty, you have to admit, that young lady deserves to live. I don't think I've ever had that much fun in my life!"

He broke into laughter.

"My lady!" he called after Sakura's retreating form, shrinking in the distance. "Please! Come back, I'll give you a horse…"

Sonomi stood by the window in her room, frowning as the sun set in the distance.

Meiling joined her side.

"What vexes you, Mother?" she inquired, too cheerful to be bothered by the dark look on her mother's face. "We are dining with the Queen Yelan herself tomorrow…and Prince Syaoran too! How could you possibly be upset at a time like this?"

"Sakura's gone," Sonomi said stiffly, her eyes narrowing.

"So?" Meiling was unperturbed. "How could you possibly be upset? We're free of Cinderella and left to do what we want!"

"You don't understand…" Sonomi said in a low voice. "She wouldn't just leave here. If she's away from home, she usually has a purpose. And I want to know what that girl gets up to."

Suki shuffled into the room, to set logs to the Lady Daidouji's fire.

"Any news of Sakura?" Sonomi demanded sharply, her eyes not moving from the window.

Suki straightened, shaking her head.

"No, Milady," she replied. "No news."

Sonomi's mouth thinned into the thinnest of lines.

"Well, I want to be informed the moment she comes back," she ordered. "No matter if it's in the middle of the night. I don't want her in here without some explanation. Is that clear?"

Suki nodded silently.

Sonomi's eyes took in the sky, darkening rapidly.

All right, girl, she thought vehemently. I know you would die before running away from here. So you haven't run away. But you've been gone all day. What are you up to?

The sky was dark, the sun having set in the west long hours since. The wind stirred the night air, stirring the newly green trees. The chill in the air was not enough to dampen the spirits of the raucous men in the gypsy camp. Situated in a clear in the forest, not too far from where Reed's cart used to stand, the small band of men worked hard and fast to set up a giant roaring fire that dispelled the coldness from the air, and heated skewers of game and flagons of ale.

"It's the best in the land, my lady!" the leader of the gypsies said jovially, offering Sakura a wooden cup of the foaming liquid. "Drink it up, you'll really feel the heat then…"

Sakura smiled wryly as she accepted the cup. She sat cross-legged on the ground, close to the fire. A moment later, Syaoran sat down next to her. The gypsies hadn't ignored their royal visitor, Sakura noticed amusedly, as there was a flagon of strong ale in Syaoran's hands too. And it was already half-empty.

"Is it any good?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow.

Syaoran saw Sakura's eyes fixed on his cup, and he coughed.

"It's quite strong," he said uncertainly. "I wouldn't normally recommend it for a lady. But then again, I don't know whether most ladies can lift a full-grown man on their back and walk for another mile without breaking a sweat!"

Sakura smiled modestly, the red blush creeping onto her face hidden by the leaping orange firelight.

"You give me too much credit," she said finally. "It was barely twenty steps –"

"Modest, are we?" Syaoran asked, amused. "I'm impressed. I haven't met a lady to this day who even knows the meaning of the word."

Sakura tilted her head in acknowledgment. She glanced at her cup uncertainly.

"I'll wager you're strong enough to handle that," Syaoran commented, nodding toward the cup of ale. He set his own down on the ground beside him.

"You really think so?" Sakura asked him, frowning. That would be enough to crown her day. To maybe get herself so drunk, in a gypsy camp, sitting so close to Syaoran –

"Of course," Syaoran nodded. "I've seen stronger stuff than that go down the throats of weaker men than you."

Sakura turned even redder at the compliment as she took the cup in both hands and glanced at it, thinking. Should she? Common sense told her not to. But there seemed to be very little common sense in her body that night. Recklessness seemed to be coursing through her veins, along with something strange that made her heart pound faster than usual.

She raised the cup.

"Well, here goes," she said bracingly. She put the cup to her lips and downed half of the cup in one giant gulp. She gasped as she swallowed, grimacing at the aftertaste. It was stronger than she'd ever expected. The ale had a bitter taste and it burned the back of her throat as it went down. Maybe it was only her imagination, or was the ale indeed so strong it was making her head turn?

"Are you alright?" Syaoran asked, his hands shooting out to grip Sakura's shoulders, steadying her as she swayed slightly.

Sakura was feeling slightly dizzy, but her nerves were buzzing pleasantly and warmth was flowing through every part of her body.

"I'm alright," she said, her voice coming out clearer and steadier than she felt. "It was a bit stronger than I'd expected."

"Are you sure?" Syaoran asked, his worried eyes searching Sakura's face.

Sakura nodded. Syaoran's face was crowding her vision. His hands were on her shoulders, and his face was barely inches from hers.

"I'm fine," she repeated. Mustering as much control as she could, she then added, "You can let go of me now."

Syaoran seemed to come out of a stupor. His eyes registered on his hands gripping her shoulders, and he hastily removed them.

"I'm sorry about that," he said abruptly.

Sakura smiled as she set down her cup.

"So formal again?" she asked dryly. "We're in the middle of a gypsy camp. There's ale in our hands. I'm barefoot, in my undergarments, and wrapped in a gypsy's cloak. Don't think of me as a courtier now. Just – pretend that we're one of them, just for now."

The part of Sakura's mind that still seemed sane screamed at her. What are you doing?! You can't do this! He's a prince, and you're a servant! And you lied to him! This is wrong! Stop!

Unfortunately, this part of her mind seemed to be growing smaller and smaller. Rational thought seemed impossible, especially when Syaoran was so close to her, his chestnut hair dishevelled, and his big amber eyes fixed on hers with a smouldering intensity.

"You have no idea…" Syaoran murmured absently. "How much I would love to do that. Just – be a gypsy, or another common man. To be free of the court and royalty and kingship and everything else."

Sakura's eyes widened.

"But why?" she asked.

Syaoran turned his head away, gazing into the fire. Around them, the gypsies had struck up music, and were dancing around the giant fire. The camp whirled around the two of them. It was as though Sakura and Syaoran were in a world of their own.

"I don't want to be king," he said flatly.

"But why not?" Sakura asked, shifting onto her knees. "Just think of what you could do for your country if you were king. What you could do for your people."

"Yes, but –" Syaoran wrenched his gaze from the fire. "I can't take the pressure I've been put under. Do you know what it's like, living at the castle? It's like prison. A cage. In which I've been shut in without ever wanting it. All I ever wanted was freedom, Nadeshiko. The freedom to live my own life, independent of others. The freedom to choose what to say, who to befriend. The freedom to choose the woman I want to marry. But I don't even have that. All I have is a crown, and it's precious little compared to what I don't have."

"But you already have so much," Sakura said softly. "Can't you see that? You have a roof over your head, and a castle so grand, all else can only dream to live in it. And if not for want to material pleasures, what about those who love you? You have parents, Syaoran. Parents who love you and want the best for you. How can you say that you have nothing?"

"It's not much," Syaoran mumbled. "I have all these things. But I have no freedom to do what I want."

"You always have freedom," Sakura replied. "You're the prince, and if you live thus trapped, the rest of us are doomed. You say you wish to live life independently, but that's impossible. Every life is dependent on another. If as the prince you are dependent, then how do you propose to live life as a gypsy, for example? They are as defined by their status as their title defines you, yet it does nothing to help them. At least, you have the freedom to do with the kingdom as you choose. You can choose to follow what society demands of you. Or you can choose to demand of society what you want for it. Just think about it, Syaoran. But don't ever curse your fate. You've been born to privilege, but for that, you will have to fulfill specific obligations."

Syaoran stared at Sakura disbelievingly.

"What?" Sakura asked, unsettled by the way Syaoran was staring at her.

Syaoran shook his head.

"For a courtier, you talk a lot," he said, astonished. "I knew you were outspoken, but I had no idea you could let your mouth run away with you like that –"

Sakura stared at him, mortified. Was Syaoran offended, or impressed?

"I didn't mean –" she stuttered, as Syaoran's gaze fell upon her once again. "I shouldn't have said that. My mouth gets me into a lot of trouble."

Syaoran's eyes locked onto Sakura's mouth as she spoke. She had a beautiful mouth. Sweetly curving, with lips so full and strangely pink. They looked so soft, he thought absently. What would they taste like? And he found himself wanting to try – he leaned closer.

Sakura was aware of the minimal distance between her and the prince. She knew she should stop him, before things spun out of control. But there was already no control. And she was mesmerized by Syaoran's eyes. Hypnotized. She was just as lost as he was.

Their lips brushed softly together, almost as if by accident. Then – it was impossible to tell who moved first – their lips met again, firmer than before.

Sakura's eyes widened. She wanted to protest – but she didn't. Want to protest. The feeling Syaoran's lips against her own was radiating pulses of electricity in every fibre of her being. So, instead of doing what her usually practical self would do, she yielded. She closed her eyes, as Syaoran broke away.

They sat there, facing each other, for perhaps a moment. Maybe two. And then, Syaoran closed the distance between them, taking Sakura's hands in his, and kissed her lips once again. More decisively. He could feel the Countess' breathing growing ragged. The taste of her lips was indescribable. He wanted more. Sakura's mouth was slightly parted. He deepened the kiss, her mouth tasting as sweet as her lips. Sakura moaned slightly as he increased the pressure against her mouth. There were sparks flying wherever their bodies touched. Her mind was completely disconnected. Shut down. There was nothing in her, but the feeling of Syaoran slowly exploring the inside of her mouth. It felt good.

God, it felt like she had died and was in heaven.

The sound of laughter broke the spell. They broke apart as the gypsies stood facing them, in awe.

Sakura met Syaoran's eyes, and they both averted their gazes. Both turned bright red as the entire gypsy camp exploded in hoots and laughter. And applause.

Syaoran coughed nervously. Sakura bit her lip nervously.

"Well…"

"Er…"

A gypsy sidled over to them, and clapped a hand amicably on each of their shoulders.

"Took you two long enough," he remarked.

Sakura and Syaoran's eyes widened as the gypsy walked off, grinning.

It was so quiet, away from the raucous noise of the gypsy camp. Sakura wanted to treasure this feeling, as she sat on the rough horse the gypsies lent them. Syaoran's arm was around her waist protectively as he drove the horse slowly with the reins. She was pressed against his chest, her cheek positioned against his mouth. They rode in silence, the horse trotting along the woodland path slowly, for fear of breaking the ephemeral perfection of the moment.

"Where is your home, Nadeshiko?" Syaoran whispered against her ear.

Sakura pointed down the pathway, where the faint lights of the Daidouji estate could be seen.

"Right down the pathway," she replied softly.

Syaoran nodded, turning the horse. It nickered softly.

"Right here would be fine," Sakura said hastily, fearing to come too close to the estate. The household was clothed in sleep, but Meiling could smell the prince a mile away, in her sleep.

Syaoran got off the horse, and helped Sakura get off. They stood there, frozen, as Syaoran's hands still rested on her waist.

"You saved my life," he said simply. "Back there. In the forest."

Sakura nodded, offering a small smile.

"A girl does what she can," she replied vaguely.

Syaoran's hands dropped from her waist. Sakura made her way silently down the path to her home.

"Nadeshiko?"

Sakura halted, and turned around to face Syaoran.

"Do you know where the ruins are?" he asked.

"You mean the ones by the lake?" Sakura replied, thinking fast. "The ones in the ravine?"

"Yes, those," Syaoran said. "I – go there a lot. It's very peaceful. Would you meet me there, tomorrow?"

Sakura felt her heart drop in her stomach. How could she let herself get into this? Sonomi would have her head. Doubtless she had been missed all day today, and would not be allowed to leave Sonomi's sight for the next week.

I don't care, she found herself thinking. I don't care how much trouble I get into. I wouldn't have traded tonight for anything.

"I'll try," she replied, and saw Syaoran's eyes light up.

"Then," he said, vaulting onto the horse, a smile spreading across his face, "I'll wait there for you all day."

D i s c l a i m e r: I own nothing familiar.

A / N : Not too happy with this chapter, but a lot happened, so you can't complain. : )

Okay, in response to some recurring questions in reviews:

I credited Ever After in the first chapter as being the base for this story. (my exact words were "So please don't flame me if it seems familiar, credit is where credit is due, and I don't own Ever After"). That being said, I'm trying to incorporate a few twists, but it's difficult. I meant this story to revolve around the characters. If the plot seems familiar…well you can't have everything, right? Just thought I'd make that clear.

And to those who didn't like Meiling's character…well, I needed an evil stepsister, and I thought Meiling fit the bill better than Tomoyo, or any other character. I also didn't want another OC. If you want to see Meiling in a better role, read my other stories. They're relatively cliché –free. In this story, I'm afraid Meiling and Sonomi will be evil throughout.

Aside from that…I love reviews. So please do drop a line. I'm not uploading the next chapter until I get at least 15. So the sooner you review, the sooner the next chapter comes up. It's as simple as that.

Updates on new chapters, etc. are posted on my profile.

R.S.V.P! (Review, S'il Vous Plait!)

Lub lub!

- Rimjhim