A/N: No more writer's block! I have a whole fresh new batch of ideas so I should be back to more regular updates. Thanks to everyone for your support.
Xaviera ~ About the parents, you're kinda right, but there's more than you might think… you'll have to wait to see what I mean. I don't think Vir would get mad at Becca for what she said… I have brothers, and I love 'em and everything, but if I were in Vir's position I'd just find it funny. I think it's the age thing… little kid, older brother, no harm done. As for endings, only time will tell.
LittleMissMosh ~ We'll see where the story goes. I won't avoid it if it works its way in, but I'm not going out of my way to include any.
As Kerista pointed out, I've been neglected Terry a little, so here's a chapter that tries to remedy that. Thanks for bringing it to my attention! Constructive criticism always welcome.
Chapter 12"Every good fairytale has to have a ball"
"The other guests have begun arriving," Lillith called over her shoulder as she peered out of the window of her sister's guest quarters. She was all dressed for the ball, in a beautiful gown of pale yellow that actually managed to highlight the loveliness of her long honey-colored hair.
"So?" a sullen voice replied from behind her.
Lillith turned to face Vivienne, who sat slouched in her own green dress, the one that the young seamstress, Anne, had so painstakingly sewn. Her lips were turned down in a slight pout and her brown eyes remained trained on the floor before her.
"You should be careful," Lillith warned her as she drifted away from the window. "If mother finds a single wrinkle in that dress, you know she'll make you wait until it's steamed out before you go down."
"Good," Vivienne declared petulantly. "Then I'll only have to spend less time at that dreaded ball, and more time away from that dreaded Valor. And I get the added bonus of irritating mother."
Lillith sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "You irritate mother and we have to put up with her ranting and raving," she reminded her.
"Well, if I don't irritate her, something else will and we'll still have to put up with her ranting and raving, but I won't get my little bit of fun."
"No, no, wouldn't want to ruin your fun," Lillith drawled. Then she reached forward the grabbed her sister's arms, tugging on them insistently. "Now get up before mother sees you."
Grudgingly, Vivienne complied.
**********************
Adults were boring, that was something Terrence had decided a long time ago. But adult parties were equally so, and that was a more recent discovery. They shouldn't even be called parties, since they were hardly the image of what he considered a good time. But to be fair, this one wasn't actually called that, but rather was referred to as a "ball." Of course, that didn't mean that it was anything but one of their so-called parties with all the stuffy formalities and tedious conversations such occasions entailed.
And the clothes! Terrence tugged at the collar of his coat yet again, the action bringing no more relief now than it had the other hundred or so times that night he had performed it. The intricate buttons were done up firmly, and nothing short of ripping them off would allow him to change that. If there was one thing David knew how to do well, it was to tamper-proof clothes. His many years of dressing both Terrence and Rebecca had developed that talent.
Of course, in Terrence's opinion, David knew everything. His eldest brother was a veritable fountain of knowledge, skill, bravery, aptitude, and whatever other qualities one could hope for in a person. And Terrence's own greatest aspiration was to one day be just like him. Which was also, in his eyes, the exact opposite of his brother, Luke. Where the animosity had begun, no one could say for sure, though it was not an abnormal part of sibling relations, especially as the number of children increased. Someone was bound not to get along with someone else.
In the case of their family, however, Luke seemed incapable of getting along with anyone. Except for Rebecca. But she was only five and didn't know any better, but Terrence was sure once she'd reached his own wizened age of ten, she too would see beyond Luke's pleasant façade and learn the true nature of the beast beneath.
Despite his feelings though, he had to admit a grudging amount of respect for Luke. Luke could do whatever he wanted, risking angering whomever he chose, and never experience any fear for the consequences. And he really seemed to enjoy himself in the process.
Terrence sighed in his boredom, ducking between two pairs of adult legs as he managed to sneak inconspicuously about the crowded ballroom. The less he was noticed, the better, because he wasn't sure that he could deal with any more, "Oh, aren't you just the sweetest little thing?" or "You've certainly grown into a fine young man."
No, he wasn't the "sweetest little thing"—that job was Rebecca's and she fulfilled it with all the adorable ease that made the women coo and the men grin. And if they were looking for "fine young men," they should go find David, because all Terrence was, was one extremely bored ten-year-old boy.
'What to do, what to do?' he thought, swimming through the crowds easily, catching snippets of conversation here and there over the sound of the bland music playing in the background. All he had to do was stay away from the dancing, and he was sure that he could survive the night, if not enjoy it.
"He said what? That's outrageous! Everyone knows that an evil enchantress is more powerful than a dark mage… A mere mage, not even a sorcerer!"
"That's what I heard. And that's how the witch really learned that someone else had been coming up to the tower. I mean, she was already five months along and starting to show…"
"Fairies, such useless creatures anyway. If it weren't for all this talk about alliances and treaties, they wouldn't get away with half the stuff they do…"
"A dragon, a knight, and a maiden walk into a tavern—now stop me if you've heard this one before…"
As Terrence found himself edging toward an empty corner in search of some respite, he heard two familiar voices whispering harshly among the shadows of some exotic shrubbery Queen Snow had had imported for this special occasion. She'd been ordering about burly servants all morning, arranging them just so, along with the various other decorations that now adorned the room.
"Yes, I double-checked, triple-checked, and checked once more for good measure… is set to go… tonight… worry too much…"
"I can't help it… goes wrong?"
"Nothing will go wrong… relax… enjoy the ball… let everything unfold on its own."
A sigh. "… right. Thank you, Snow."
"Of course, Ella. But now, if you don't mind," she replied, voice returning to normal conversation level. "I have a ball to host."
Terrence ducked away as the figures of his mother's friends reemerged from the shadows. Both looked stunning in their gowns, expressions calm and composed, betraying none of the emotions conveyed during their conversation. They returned to the party through different directions, quickly immersing themselves in conversations with various other guests.
Terrence frowned, realizing that he had just unwittingly been privy to something important, but unable to piece together what. He wondered whether his mother knew anything about this. He glanced about the room, locating her in the midst of a crowd of well-dressed strangers, but before he could reach her, Queen Ella came up at her side.
Rose sent a reassuring smile in her friend's favor, and Terrence paused. Maybe she did. Oh well, it was probably just something about Valor and Vivienne anyway. He shrugged, his mind straying quickly as the face of a middle-aged women wearing far too much makeup and a ridiculous amount of jewelry appeared before him. Her index finger and thumb were already arranged in the shape of a crab's pinschers, and he quickly jumped back in alarm. But he was surrounded on all sides by people unaware of his desperate situation, and all he could do was watch in horror as the claws extended toward his face.
"Aren't you the sweetest little thing?"
**********************
Luke watched as Valor dealt with the eager throngs of young—and some not so young—women who fought for a chance to catch the interest of the eligible young prince. He handled them with a graceful ease that saw to it that enough attention was applied to each, but no more on one than any other. He played no favorites, but laughed, flirted, and smiled with each in equal amounts, regardless of how beautiful or plain, how kind or rude, how highly ranked, or lowly born she was. And they seemed to love him all the more for it.
It wasn't just the women either. The young men flocked about him, eager to impress their host, to earn his favor and the right to call him a friend. They watched the way in which the women responded to him, hoping to learn whatever tricks he used to acquire such popularity, and were only faintly disappointed as they realized there were no tricks, no secrets, no rules of the trade, so to speak. He was simply charismatic and charming, a delight to be around and people responded to him with the same warmth with which he answered them.
The women wanted him and the men wanted to be him. And no one held any of it against him. Luke had finally found someone to admire. Of course, it was not friendship or love he sought, but the blind desire to please that he saw in the eyes of everyone that crowded around the prince. For all his own charms and magnetism, he could never produce such a powerful and lasting result.
Yet Valor seemed to do it with such careless ease, his flirtations and jokes coming naturally, the smiles he drew with them serving as all the more fuel for the adoration. It seemed that no one—with the exception of one redheaded princess—could dislike the man.
'And speak of the devil,' Luke thought with a grin as he watched a familiar figure slip up to Valor's elbow.
******
For Valor's part, he was truly enjoying the ball, even if he knew his parents had thrown it with the express purpose of presenting a reason for Vivienne's family to make the trip to their kingdom. Parties were his natural environment, and he never found himself more at ease than when he was in the midst of such light-hearted celebrations.
Usually, he would have been through several glasses of wine by now—wine at the parties, ale and other drinks at the smaller, informal gatherings—but his mother had expressly requested that he abstain from the alcohol for just this one night. Not that he would have gotten drunk and embarrassed his family if he drank, because he knew such behavior in public was unacceptable for the future king. More likely, they wanted him to keep a clear head during any and all confrontations with Vivienne, for they had already heard about the last meeting between the two. And Snow had not been happy about that.
Of course, she didn't outright blame Valor, knowing that her usually easy-going son must have had some provocation before reacting in an inhospitable manner, but she wasn't ready to dismiss his part in it entirely. She wanted him to make a greater effort, especially now that he knew Vivienne had not yet agreed to the marriage, and some convincing would be required. Well, her exact word had been "wooing," but Valor had almost choked just upon hearing it, and he doubted that he could utter it himself with a serious face.
But he had made such efforts earlier and all he got in return were bruised toes. Upon his mother's insistence, he had asked Vivienne to dance, who upon her own mother's order—which, of course, had been cleverly disguised as a mere suggestion—had agreed. During the dance, she had managed to step on his feet so many times that he had lost count. She had apologized, claiming that she just couldn't seem to get the beat of the music, but there had been a malicious glint in her eyes that had informed him that the "accidents" had been anything but.
So he had immersed himself in the revelry, choosing to shut her out of his mind completely, just for the night if nothing else. Which was why he didn't clue in immediately when a crown of red curls, accentuated by a lovely green dress appeared in his peripheral vision, pushing past the other scores of women eager to get within arm's length of the prince tonight. And, which was why he turned to the new arrival, a rakish grin on his face and a flirtatious comment on his lips, oozing all that allure and confidence that drove the women so mad.
The smile faded as soon as he identified the face. "Princess Vivienne," he greeted formally, a new and forced expression of pleasantry gracing his features.
There was a look akin to surprise in her eyes as she caught his gaze, but it quickly turned to anger. "A moment of your time please," she spoke with contrived calm.
"Of course," he replied, keeping his carefully controlled composure as he watched her expectantly.
"In private," Vivienne hissed. There was enough anger emanating off the redhead that the other women, who had previously been watching her with thinly veiled resentment at the way in which she had so audaciously snared the prince's attention, now backed off in an almost imperceptible retreat. Even the other young men, with the exception of Luke, looked uneasy.
Valor had a snide comment with which to answer her, but he chose not to share it as he had the feeling that it would not at all be appreciated. Whatever it was that had already gotten her in her current state, there was no reason to add fuel to the fire. So instead, he politely excused himself, leading her away from the throng to a nearby, vacated balcony. But before he left the group, he caught Luke's eye, and the other prince gave him a sympathetic look.
Reaching the doors of the terrace, Valor gave an almost indiscernible nod to the two sentries posted there, indicating that they were not to be disturbed without good reason.
Neither spoke as they made the trip.
Once they were outside, he didn't wait for her, choosing to start instead. "What is wrong now?" he asked with a roll of his eyes, a gesture far removed from the amiable attitude he had displayed inside.
"What do you think you're doing?" she shot back.
He paused a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face before replying, "Having a conversation with the most disagreeable person I've ever met."
Choosing to ignore the barb, she clarified, "I mean, what do you think you're doing in there?"
"Oh, that. Being a good host."
"Being a good host? Does that necessarily entail flirting with every woman who looks your way?" Vivienne seethed.
Wait a minute, what was this? She couldn't possibly be jealous, as she had clearly conveyed that she had no desire to have anything to do with him. So why was she angry? "Not necessarily, but it is fairly successful tactic. Why do you care?"
"Because," she replied, as if the answer were obvious to any idiot, with the exception of the idiot before her, "You've supposedly agreed to marry me—even if I haven't agreed to marry you—and you're in there with your carousing, and living it up like you're the most eligible bachelor in the place. Is this how you plan to convince me?"
"First of all," Valor replied, folding his arms over his chest and leaning lazily against he railing. "Just for your information, as far as everyone in there is concerned, I am the most eligible bachelor in the place. That may be hard for you to believe, considering how very much you despise me, but believe it or not, it's true. Secondly, I have no intention of trying to convince you to marry me, as I know that nothing I do or say will be of any use. If you choose to assent, you will do so for your own reasons, and not for any reasons having to do with me."
Vivienne stared back at him, a startled expression on her face, and he decided to use the moment to his advantage. Before she could think of a response, he concluded, with a look of utter boredom, "Now, if we have that all cleared up, I would like to return to my guests." And without waiting for her response, he turned abruptly, leaving her standing with her slightly open, and a storm brewing in her hazel eyes.
TBCNext time: The ball continues. And remember all that talk about "tonight"? Well, it's steadily approaching.