Chapter Three: A Lashing

He was captivated by her steps in the monastery and the look of pure joy on her features as she examined almost every book they came across. Her shoulders were lighter than usual, and worries seemed to disappear. Henry wished she was able to experience this every day.

"It makes me want to cry!" She exclaimed looking at the shelves of books.

"Pick one," Henry offered.

"I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens." She murmured.

Again, her answer amazed him. "What it is that touches you so?" He was desperate to understand the passion that burned so flagrantly within her.

"I guess it's because…" She looked at him. "When I was young, my father would stay up late and read to me. He was addicted to the written word. I would fall asleep listening to the sound of his voice."

"What sort of books," Henry found himself asking.

"Science, philosophy," She answered. "I suppose they remind me of him. Before he passed, Utopia was the last book he brought home."

"Which explains why you quote it," Henry concluded.

"I would rather hear his voice again than any sound in the world," She admitted.

He felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Here was a woman who had endured so much at the hands of people who should have protected her. If anyone had any right to be as bitter as he was towards the world, it would be her. Yet she spoke of every day as if it was a magical experience.

Suddenly, Henry felt very foolish for all his arguments and years of rebellion. He had no right to be so obstinate and hostile. He could feel the tears building in his eyes before he was even aware of what was happening. He tried to look away, but Danielle had already noticed.

"Is something wrong?"

Somehow, she was still concerned for him… despite everything.

"In all my years of study," He replied slowly, trying to keep his voice in check. "Not one tutor ever demonstrated the passion you have shown me in the last two days. You have more conviction in one memory than I have in my entire being."

"Your highness," Danielle took a few steps down the staircase. "If there is anything I have said—"

"Please!" He interrupted, not wanting her to feel any sort of guilt. "Don't. It's not you."

"Your highness," Danielle took some more strides until she was beside him. "Please believe that I hold you in the highest regard. Despite what I might have said earlier, I truly believe that you are the strong and capable man that this country needs."

Henry felt her small hand place itself on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"I see… I see a spark in you, your highness. It's small but it burns brightly. And with the right care, it could grow and burn even more. Already, I've noticed a change in you. You are not half as arrogant and annoying as you used to be. Do not berate yourself for the man you think you ought to be. Instead, make it your goal to become him and take steps to do so. It does no one any good to be self-detrimental to a fault." She finished.

Her words were like a bandage to wounds he didn't even know he had. He blinked back a few more tears and shakily inhaled.

"Danielle… thank you." He whispered.

She lifted her hand to his face, her rough calloused fingers brushing away a stray tear. It seemed so right like that was what she was supposed to be doing. It dawned on Henry that perhaps, it was a bit too late for caution. For certainly, he was half in love with Danielle if not entirely.

"Prince Henry left early this morning Baroness," The ugly little toad of an attendant informed her. "No one seems to know where he went. However, the prince has been sneaking away from the castle several times in the past few days. Though his destination is unknown."

Rodmilla tried not to let her frustration at the lack of information show but in order to ensure Marguerite's success, she needed more than just the bare whereabouts of the prince.

"But" The attendant continued. "I've brought you something that will brighten up your day. It's a—" The man gestured for her to lean forward.

Swallowing her disgust, she let the positively dreadful man whisper into her ear. "The queen's broach."

Her abhorrence quickly turned into excitement as she realized what an opportunity this would present for Marguerite. "Oh, you vicious, vicious man!" She flirted.

Tucking the broach away, she leads her girls into the service. She also placed the knowledge of the prince's frequent comings and goings out of the palace in the back of her mind. While that information might serve useful at some point, it would do little to help them now.

It was quite some time later after Danielle and the prince had decided to walk back to the castle when they got lost. She had climbed the rocks and was surveying the pathways when she heard the prince angrily exclaim, "You would think I would know the way to my own castle!"

She smirked, "Why is it men never stop for directions?" She looked a little further left before announcing, "Ah! There it is! It is back that way!"

"And I still can't believe I'm down here while you're up there!" The prince continued. "And in your undergarments, no less." He flushed.

When Danielle had opted to climb, the prince had gotten so flustered all of a sudden and was making wild protests. But in the end, Danielle had won the argument, as she most always did these days.

"I couldn't very well climb up here in that gown, could I?" She reminded him. "Besides, if you broke your royal neck, where would we be?"

"You swim alone, climb rocks, rescue servants, duel princes, is there anything you don't do?" He gave a tilted grin.

Danielle spread her arms and closed her eyes. "Fly!"

Since she had now discovered the path, they should be taking, she looked back down at him and stated, "Now turn around so I can climb back down."

She watched him give a little nod before he faced the other way. She began her descent down when suddenly, she heard multiple voices. She looked down only to see a group of rogue men, gypsies, move to attack the prince.

"Stay aloft, madam," the prince said drawing his sword. "There are games afoot."

Her heart caught in her throat, and she began climbing down faster, determined to help in whatever way she could. She saw one of the men, perhaps the leader, grab her dress.

"My wife thanks you for this fine garment, mademoiselle."

Her face flushed. "You will give me back my dress sir."

She had gotten low enough on the rocks that she figured she could jump down and perhaps, take someone out with her. Propriety be damned at this point anyway. With that, she took a leap and landed on the man who was in the process of stealing her dress. She rolled off him and moved to take a swipe at him when more men came at her from behind and grabbed her arms. Soon, she was completely immobile and at the sight of her being held hostage, the prince dropped his sword.

"Let her go," He stated. "Your quarrel is with me."

Danielle let out a frustrated sigh. Of course, the prince would be stupidly chivalrous enough to try and sacrifice himself for her. Despite the fact that he was to be the next king and she wasn't even a member of a respectable household.

The leader of the gypsies saw no harm in letting her go apparently and stated, "Release her."

The brutes who were holding her let go and Danielle desperately tried to come up with some reason for them to let Henry go as well.

"I insist you return my things at once." She began, the wheels slowly turning in her head. "And since you deprived me of my escort, I demand a horse as well." At this point, she was thinking that her best bet was to ride off and warn the guards of prince Henry's fate.

"Milady," The man said with humor in his voice, "You may have anything you can carry."

He obviously was not taking her very seriously. But an idea popped into Danielle's head when he said those words. She was going to take advantage of his clear underestimation of her.

"May I have your word on that, sir?" She wanted him to confirm it so there would be no takebacks.

"On my honor as a Gypsy, whatever you can carry." He established.

Taking his word for it, Danielle took a few steps toward Henry before she was right next to him. Very quietly, she said, "I'm afraid I shall have to offend your highness once more." She then reached to grab him and hoist him over her shoulders.

She felt him tense before relaxing after a second. She then heard subsequent giggles and chortles of laughter echoing from the gypsies as she began to carry the prince away. She was sure that if the roles were reversed, she would laugh quite heartedly at the sight they presented. Danielle had made it a few feet away before she heard the leader call out.

"Wait! Please, come back. I'll give you a horse!" He said in between laughter.

Once she heard the words, she almost dropped the prince from her shoulders. Although she prided herself on being strong, Danielle knew she had limits. The prince stumbled a second before righting himself. He gave her a look of sheer amusement and Danielle swore she could see golden sparkles in his brown eyes.

"It is apparent," He began, "That by the end of the day, you shall be permanently indebted to the crown on the cause of your offenses."

Danielle stretched her back and heard a few of the bones pop. "That is not my intention, I assure you."

By now the gypsies joined them and were leading them back to the camp. The laughter was contagious and soon, they were all merry and enjoying food near a roaring fire. Turns out, the gypsies were not nearly as bad as Henry first feared. Once they had all finished eating, Danielle and the prince found themselves in a most dangerous game of rock, paper, scissors. The loser, telling some sort of secret.

"You're reading my thoughts, milord," Danielle giggled, the drinks finally catching up to her.

"And they're as fuzzy as my own." He replied.

She fixed him with a mock glare. "Then France concedes?"

"Never!"

"My next choice," He murmured, "Will be paper."

Danielle's eyes flashed with amusement and suspicion before they played another round. Turns out, he told the truth and Danielle's scissors cut through his paper.

"It's your turn," She smiled. "And it had better be good."

The prince leaned back as if carefully considering what he was about to say next. His words once more surprised her.

"I have no desire to be king," He admitted.

"But think of all the wonderful things you could do?" Danielle posed. "For your country, for the world."

"Yes, but," the prince frowned, "To be so defined by your position, to only be seen as what you are. You don't know how insufferable that is."

"You might be surprised," Danielle said softly, thinking about her own place in life.

"Really?" He asked, his tone of voice inviting her to explain as it often did.

"A gypsy, for example, is rarely painted as anything else. They're defined by their status as you are, yet it is not who they are. The same goes for many servants as well. You have been born to privilege and with that come specific obligations…" Danielle trailed off before realizing that she had spoken out of place. "I'm sorry, my mouth has run away from me again."

She then noticed the prince's almost… predatory gaze. It was then, that she finally realized what expression he was giving her.

"No, my lady." He murmured. "It is your mouth… that has me hypnotized."

He was so very close and before Danielle could say or do anything, he closed the gap between them, placing a sweet and nearly sinful kiss on her mouth. Her body seemed to move automatically, and she began to kiss him back. She was lost in a world of strange sensations when the cheers and whistles of the gypsies brought her back out of it.

The prince smiled into her lips before pulling away, making shooing motions with his arms. "Come now, there is nothing to be seen here. The show is over!"

This elicited a small laugh from Danielle who covered her mouth in embarrassment. She really didn't know what to make of this whole situation or of them… but it felt very… right.

"You saved my life, you know." The prince said, sitting beside her. "Back there, in the woods."

Danielle did little to fight the urge to rest her head upon his shoulders. Leaning against him, she replied, "A girl does what she can, Sire."

She felt him shift slightly, turning so they could face one another.

"Henry," he stated.

She blinked lazily at him, simply too comfortable in her current position before whispering, "Henry."

"Danielle…" He said back to her. His eyes then got cloudy, and Danielle could tell he was thinking of something else at the moment. He then refocused his gaze and said, "Do you know the ruins at Amboise?"

"Yes," she hesitantly replied. "I often go there to… be alone."

"Would you meet me there tomorrow?" His voice had an excited lilt to it.

"I shall try." Danielle yawned, tempted to lay down and press herself into Henry's side. "I will admit that I am most tired and will have duties to attend to tomorrow."

"Then I shall wait all day," Henry said firmly.

"Very well," Danielle sat up a bit straighter. "Then we best be off. I should return to the manor before they notice I've been gone."

She moved to stand up a little shakily. After Henry and she had said their farewells to the gypsies, the walk back to the manor was spent mostly in comfortable silence. They had arrived at the edge of the gate when Danielle pulled softly on Henry's sleeve.

"Here is where we should part ways," Danielle spoke.

"You will be alright?" Henry asked. "They won't punish you?"

If Danielle was being honest with herself, she didn't know. But she needs to assuage Henry's fears. "If they did then who would make them breakfast?" She joked.

The concern didn't fade entirely from Henry's eyes, but it was enough. "Alright, then. Be careful and I shall see you later… today I suppose." He said looking at the light gray sky.

To further ease his concerns, Danielle stepped forward on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Henry's cheek. It did the trick and Henry smiled at her; the kind of smile that would melt glaciers. She waved to him before slipping into the gardens and walking back to the house.

Tip-toeing through the manor, she managed to make it to the attic before she fell peacefully asleep.

Bursting with energy and excitement, Henry tore open the curtains to his parent's canopy bed. He had no fear that he would happen upon anything compromising, seeing that his parents had not been affectionate since before his birth.

His father turned over a bit, muttering something about execution while his mother sat up. She spoke softly to his father, "Francis, wake up. Our son has something to tell us."

"Mother, father," he began, "I want to build a university, with the largest library in Europe, where people of any station can study!"

This seemed to get his father more coherent as he clutched onto his blankets. "Alright, who are you and what have you done with our son?"

Ignoring him, Henry went on another tangent. "Oh, and I want to invite the gypsies to the ball."

"Is that it?" His father questioned. "Or are you going to tell me something else to raise my blood pressure?"

"Oh yes," Henry smiled. "I have found my bride."

"What?" His father exclaimed.

"Well," His mother inserted. "That's wonderful Henry. Who is she?"

"A commoner by the name of Danielle de Barbarac." Henry proudly answered.

"Oh, a commoner," his father said happily for a moment before realizing what Henry actually said. "A commoner! Son, are you out of your mind?"

"No father," Henry said. "On the contrary, I feel as if this is the first time, I've begun to use it."

Having said his piece to his parents, Henry shut the drapes and walked out of the room, figuring he'd leave his parents some time to come to terms with his decision. As he was leaving, he heard the pattern of footsteps and the sound of his mother's voice.

"Wait, Henry!" She called.

He stopped and turned around while his mother came to stand before him.

"Would this have anything to do with the people you were asking for information on? August de Barbarac and Nicole de Lancret?" she questioned.

Henry blinked in surprise, having almost forgotten the prior conversation he'd had with his mother. "As a matter of fact, yes. August de Barbarac and Nicole de Lancret were Danielle's parents."

His mother tilted her head. "I see. Now, I must confess that while I have had some success obtaining information about August de Barbarac, any knowledge of Nicole de Lancret has been rather scarce."

"Well, whatever it is," Henry stated, "It will not change my mind about Danielle."

His mother looked at him before giving a soft smile. She put her hand on his face and rubbed her thumb over his cheek, an action that she had done many times in the past. "I have not come to object to the union, Henry. For I have noticed a great deal of change in you recently and it has been for the better. She must be quite the lady to inspire you so."

"Thank you for your blessing mother," Henry said sincerely. "Now all I have to do is actually propose to her."

The queen shook her head disapprovingly. "Here you are coming up with all sorts of plans for the future and you haven't even gotten an answer from her, for shame Henry."

Henry had the decency to be a bit sheepish. "I know mother, it is just that I am so excited—I can barely contain myself."

"Oh Henry," She stated softly before clearing her throat. "Best be off with you then."

"Thank you, mother," Henry hugged her gently before running off down the halls.

"Remember to listen to her Henry!" She called after him. "Lord knows you're your father's son!"

When their little snob of a servant Danielle had refused to make them breakfast, Marguerite was nearly beside herself with rage. But once she and her mother had come to the conclusion that her attitude had been enough to warrant them refusing her invitation to the ball, both she and her mother had excitedly made their way upstairs to try on the gorgeous white gown that was Danielle's dowry. It was simply a pity that something so beautiful belonged to someone so hideous. Honestly, Marguerite was doing both Danielle and her mother a favor by taking and wearing the dress.

Of course, those stupid old servants had to make everything complicated by calling Danielle to the room. This time, there would be no playing it off. Danielle would simply have to resign herself to the fact that she was an ugly wench who could never dream of going to the ball.

"Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence." Her mother stated annoyed at Danielle's appearance.

"What do you think you're doing?" Danielle said through barely contained anger.

"Trying on my dress," Marguerite smiled.

Her mother eyed Danielle disapprovingly. "Do you think that after this morning, I'd let you go anywhere?"

Marguerite smirked, feeling very confident only to be very much annoyed when Danielle opened her mouth to continue speaking.

"Do you honestly think these games and intrigues," Danielle began, "are going to win you a crown? To hunt royalty like some sport. It's disgusting."

Marguerite found her own anger brewing. It was so hypocritical of someone so vile to call her pursuit of the prince disgusting. "You're just jealous."

Danielle dropped the basket she was holding and picked up the shoes which were lying innocently on the end of the bed.

"These are my mother's," she said as if that would change the outcome of this argument.

Marguerite smiled as she thought of what to say next. "Yes… and she's dead."

Never in a million years did Marguerite think that Danielle would ever strike her. So, when the ungrateful, horrible slut punched her right in the face, Marguerite screamed as her face exploded in pain. However, she had little time to collect herself when Danielle yelled, "I'm going to rip your hair out!"

"Mother!" Marguerite found herself screaming. "Mother, do something!"

She was being chased throughout the house with a rabid beast hot at her heels. She was nearly at her wit's end when she spied what she knew to be one of Danielle's most treasured possessions near the fireplace. Desperate, she grabbed it and held the offending book over the hot flames.

"Get away from me or so help me, God—"

"No Marguerite, don't!"

This was much better. Once more Marguerite had found herself in a position of power over Danielle, as it ought to be.

"Put it down!" Danielle pleaded but Marguerite had already made up her mind.

"Give me the shoes." She demanded.

"Put it down!"

"Consider carefully Danielle," Her mother finally had the decency to show up and help. "Your father's book or your mother's shoes. Though neither will save you from a lashing."

Marguerite reveled in the turmoil that was in Danielle's eyes. She watched as Danielle, defeated, put down the shoes. Once she had, Marguerite tossed the stupid little book into the fire, watching Danielle scream and dash for it as she did so. It brought her great satisfaction to see Danielle be held back and forced to look at her father's book burning before her eyes.

The fact that the lazy slob was going to get a lashing just made it better.