Rain
twenty something
It had promised to be a beautiful party. Amber had outdone herself. But it was spring, so she had prepared for the possibility of rain. White, fabric pavilions had been raised to cover the dozens of tea tables, each set with china and sweets and finger sandwiches that no one would ever eat. The fabric had been ripped to shreds, lying awkwardly across the tables and the bodies. Only a few bodies, blessedly. The strike had come before the party was set to begin. But Sofia hadn't been able to help herself. She had come out to the garden early, admiring the work that had been done all in the name of her love. Cedric had followed her begrudgingly, a smile tucked in under his scowl as he watched her marvel at the delicately painted roses on each teacup and all of her favorite desserts piled in the center of each table.
Today was the beginning of their official, public courtship. Two short weeks ago, Sofia had fought with her father and Cedric had been willing to jump through every royal hoop. After private, familial acceptance, this engagement tea was the first step towards their marriage.
That might be over, now.
Cedric forced himself to open his eyes, forced himself to deal with reality instead of continuing to lie on the ground, flitting around consciousness. He could smell the ozone in the air from the curse that struck the garden. He could feel the rain, a side effect of the same curse, pittering in a constant rhythm on his face. He could hear the ping of the drops as they struck against the toppled china. He could see Sofia's skirts, such a pale pink they were nearly white, beside him, laden with water from the rain. Cedric got to his hands and knees, straining and aching and immediately dizzy. His reserves of power were nearly gone. He had done what he could to throw up a shield before the strike. But that magic had been instinctual and untamed without his wand, making it wild and draining. It seemed as though he had saved himself but who else? Being alive wouldn't be worth it, not if he hadn't managed to save Sofia, too. He crawled forward at the speed of frozen molasses leaving its jar, holding his breath until he could see Sofia's chest rise and fall.
She was breathing. Sofia was breathing. It was slow and sleep-like but she was alive. Still on his hands and knees, Cedric let his head fall forward and tears of relief mixed with the ever-falling rain. Somehow, he found himself sitting beside her with her sleeping form pulled up into his lap as he cradled her, rocking slowly back and forth and repeating, "she's alive, she's alive," in a quiet montra until he felt consciousness slip away and fade into dreams.
That's how the household staff, escorting a parade of noblemen and noblewomen with stylish umbrellas in hand, found them an hour later. They were alive but cold to the touch; breathing, but unable to be awoken. They were trapped in sleep by a spell meant to kill, each unable to save the other.
.
.
A/N: and a tragic early Christmas to you, too. :P Blame Pinterest. One image of a teacup in a rain storm and my imagination took off without my permission; I was barely able to hold on until I got this onto paper (er, screen. Whatever).