Kirjava ~ The déjà vu thing went back to Ch.12, when Vivienne told Val she wanted to talk to him. She didn't use the exact same words, but they were similar, and, them being sisters and all, I figured it was enough to make Val worried.
Little Miss Dove ~ Don't ever apologize for a long review! Those things make my day. ;-)
Chapter 15Intersections: "A rival for the fair lady's hand"
Luke watched Valor disappear with Lillith, and could have laughed at the forlorn expression on the other prince's face. Had he had the opportunity, Luke could have consoled the prince—could have, although he would not have, seeing as he found the whole situation amusing—with the knowledge that the younger daughter of Queen Ella was nothing like her sister. If anything, he realized as he caught a glimpse of her face before the two turned away, the girl looked even more nervous about the conversation than did Valor.
When the two disappeared from sight, Luke glanced around the busy ballroom, his attention waning. "This group's getting pretty boring," he muttered aloud.
"I thought you would like this," he heard a voice at his elbow and realized Terrence hadn't yet left. A glass of some drink in his hand, the younger prince eyed him curiously.
Luke replied, "Why would you say that?"
Terrence shrugged, but the motion was constricted by his coat, and he ended up fiddling with the high collar in an attempt to loosen it. "I don't know. I just figured you'd want to be with all these important people… since you always seem to think you're so much better than everyone else. Besides, there's so much more stuff to steal."
A slight frown creased the elder prince's brow. Most of what Terrence said was true—he did think he was better than everyone else, and he should fit in at a place like this, but…
"There's too much to steal here. I could only get my hands on so much, and hardly anyone would even notice. And then what would be the point?" He paused and looked about at the surrounding crowds. "And these people… they're not all that important. They like to think they are, and they like for others to think they are, so they dress up for the night in all their finery to show off. But underneath, they're just nobodies with titles and kingdoms. And some so obscure or tiny, it's hardly worth the effort," he added.
Terrence stared at him in disbelief. "Gee, Luke, if these people don't impress you, who would?"
Luke grinned. "Someone worthwhile, I guess." He gave a dismissive shrug and after a moment's pause, changed the topic. "So, you've found yourself a girlfriend, have you?"
His brother, who was in the middle of a sip, choked and sputtered, sending out a spray of the reddish liquid. Nearby party-goers sent curious glances in the pair's direction, before their attention wandered to more interesting things. Luke merely grimaced and reached for a napkin to wipe the mess off his coat, dabbing at the material to keep the damage from spreading. Ah well, his own fault, he supposed.
After Terrence had finally managed to gain some semblance of control, he sent out a horrified look. "What?" he squeaked, his already prepubescent voice raised a few more octaves.
"You. Lillith. Have you grasped it yet, or must I draw you a picture?" Luke drawled.
"Lilly's not my girlfriend!" The younger boy's face burned a bright red. At ten, he had yet to pass completely from the 'girls are gross' stage in which he had spent the last few years of his life, although the transition had begun somewhat already.
"What's wrong, not your type?" He managed to keep a serious, contemplative expression as he spoke. "Or maybe she's just not attractive enough?"
Defensively, Terrence declared, "Hey, she's plenty pretty!" His blush deepened, and he stammered on. "I mean… she's too old. She's like your age."
Luke nodded agreeably. "She is, isn't she?" Then, smiling innocently, looking as if the idea had just come to him—and it had, but its intent was much different than he let on—he suggested, "Well, maybe I should go for her."
An expression of utter shock appeared on his brother's face, and inwardly Luke delighted at the reaction. "You… you can't do that!" he stammered, a wild look in his blue eyes.
"Why not?" Luke replied gazing at his nails idly, his own expression a polar opposite to Terrence's. "You said you weren't interested."
"But… but." After a moment, it became obvious he was getting nowhere in that approach, so he switched tactics. "You can try, but she'll never go for you. You're a complete jerk and everyone knows it," he finished, smiling in satisfaction.
"You think so?" Luke returned, his own grin sparking mischievously, his expression causing his brother's confidence to waver. "She doesn't really know me, and I haven't done anything even vaguely cruel or malicious in front of her. And," he said, voice lowering to a whisper as he leaned forward, grin expanding into a full-blown smile. "I can be pretty charming if I try."
Terrence peered back at him, eyes widened in horror, and Luke fought the urge to break into maniacal laughter. That was a little too cliché for his tastes. But, this was going to be fun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It just so happened at that very instant David and Virtue were passing by, a short distance away. David had taken his arm off her shoulders upon reentering the ballroom, but the pair still walked very closely together. Virtue felt him tense inexplicably at her side, and as she turned to ask him what was wrong, his gaze was turned away. Following the direction of his eyes, Virtue found herself watching a very cheerful looking Luke and a not so cheerful Terrence.
"Why's he grinning like an idiot?"
Virtue looked at David in surprise, before saying tentatively, "You really don't like him, do you?"
"What?" He glanced back at her, gray eyes indicating he'd been caught off guard. He must not have even realized he had made the comment aloud. David shook his head. "It's not that I don't like him…" pausing, he sighed softly. "I don't dislike Luke, no matter how much he seems to hate me," he cut off the protest Virtue had been about to make with a slight shake of his head. "No, I'm not saying he actually hates me, just that he prefers to make it seem like he does. But despite that, I try to get along with him. He just loves to make it so difficult." He sighed again, glancing back at the other prince with solemn eyes. "He knows I'm supposed to be the responsible one, the one who makes sure everything's going right, so he's taken it upon himself to be the one who makes sure that everything doesn't go right. And so I have to go around trying to stop him from doing whatever he's planning to do before he does it."
Virtue looked at him sympathetically, suddenly very grateful she had only one sibling, and that the two had fairly good relationship. "Have you ever just tried beating him up?"
David gazed at her a moment, and seeing that she was speaking seriously, he burst into laughter. Virtue watched him, a slight smile on her face though she wasn't sure what he found so amusing. After a while he replied, "As tempting as the might be at times, I couldn't do that."
"Why not?" she asked simply.
"Because, if I were to beat up on Luke, what would stop him from doing the same to Terry? And then what would stop Terry from turning around and taking it out on Becca?"
She frowned, taking in his words. Well, she supposed, she couldn't really contest his words. "You know what?" she said, leaning in against him. He gazed down at her questioningly and she continued, "You think too much."
David grinned in return. "I have to pick up the slack for everyone around me," he teased.
She was just about to return his remark with a playful punch, but a sudden clearing of a throat turned the pair's attention from each other. Turning, Virtue found herself staring back at a young man, maybe her own age, dressed in all the finery befitting a prince. His sandy hair was short and neatly styled, his manner impeccable, and when he spoke, he did so with practiced poise. "Princess Virtue, might I perhaps have the honor of this next dance?"
Virtue glanced from the stranger to David, who held his face in a perfectly neutral expression, and back to the stranger. "I'm sorry," she replied hospitably, "I'm afraid, I'm not much for dancing." Grabbing David's hand, she tried to skirt around the prince, but he moved to block her path.
"Nonsense!" the prince declared haughtily. "What sort of princess doesn't dance?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and unconsciously her grip tightened on David's hand. "The sort of princess that just turned you down," she returned.
Still, he persisted, his ego unfazed by the rejection. "Perhaps you would reconsider if you knew who you were dealing with."
At this point David decided to enter the conversation, moving forward to stand right beside Virtue. Coolly, he asked, "And whom might she be dealing with?"
The stranger pulled himself up proudly, his very demeanor making Virtue want to gag, but she managed to keep the reaction to herself. Maybe it was better to let David deal with this. Giving a black eye to one of her own guests would not be a very hospitable move, and it certainly would not earn her parents' favor. "Prince Orwell, eldest son of King Nicholas and Queen Cecilia," he replied arrogantly.
"Queen Cecilia, Queen Cecilia," David murmured thoughtfully. The name did sound familiar even to Virtue, though she could not place it. Suddenly, recognition sparked in David's eyes. "Oh yes! Didn't she promise away her firstborn to that little magical troll… what was his name?"
Realization hit Virtue as well. "Rumpledpantsuit?" she offered helpfully, managing a straight face.
"Rumpelstiltskin," Prince Orwell corrected, annoyance flaring briefly in his expression. "And mother had no intention of handing her child over to that odious creature."
"Oh, so you're saying that she was lying?" David asked innocently.
Virtue shook her head admonishingly. "Now, that doesn't seem like a very honorable thing to do."
Orwell glared at the pair angrily. "Mother had no choice. If the straw had not been spun into gold by the morning, father was going to have her executed."
"Executed for not spinning straw into gold? Doesn't sound like a reasonable man, this father of yours," David demurred.
"No, and not a very good start to their relationship," Virtue added. "You really shouldn't begin these sorts of things by threatening death."
Orwell's face had begun to flush an unflattering pink. "How dare you speak to me so? I am a prince of fairytale heritage!" he exclaimed. "I don't have to take this sort of ridicule from anyone!"
Her own ire rising, Virtue stepped forward. "Listen, your highness," she hissed, her tone acidic as she spoke the title. "I don't care if—" But before she could finish the sentence, she felt David's hand on her arm, pulling her back.
"You'll have to excuse the princess," David cut in. "Patience is not one of her… virtues. But before her temper gets entirely out of hand, and I can do nothing to save you from the embarrassment of being beaten up by a girl in front of all these people—" he waved an expansive hand around the room— "Perhaps you should take your leave."
Prince Orwell, mistaking the new fire in Virtue's eyes for anger toward him, swallowed thickly and hesitated a fraction of a second before turning and scurrying away. As soon as he was out of sight, Virtue turned and punched David in the arm.
No longer able to hold back the laughter, David sputtered out a not so innocent, "What?" as he ducked away from another blow.
"Do not make fun of my name!" Virtue huffed, her fists drawn tightly at her sides.
"Did I make fun of your name?" he asked, still grinning widely. "I don't recall doing so… I merely used a common word, one meaning an asset or desirable quality."
The princess continued to watch him through narrowed eyes, though some of the anger had dissipated. "If you meant 'an asset or desirable quality,' why didn't you use those words?"
David shrugged unapologetically. "Virtue just sounds so much more elegant, don't you think?"
Virtue shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. A small smile played around her lips as she studied him.
"What?"
The smile widened. "I was just thinking how I was wrong about you."
"Wrong, how?" he asked, confused.
"You do have a sense of humor after all."
"Hmm, yes," he nodded, his serious expression returned. "As a matter of fact, it is one of my… virtues." This time, he caught the fist that came barreling toward him, before it made contact. Taking the hand in his grasp, he brought it up to his lips, gently brushing them against her knuckles. "In all seriousness, though, Virtue is a beautiful name," and with a grin, he added, "For an equally beautiful woman."
Virtue felt her cheeks warm slightly and glanced away. "Well, you're forgiven. But you better be careful, or I just might take Prince Arwen up on his offer," she teased.
"Arwell," David corrected, dropping her hand and pulling her to his side as, arm in arm, they continued on the path they had been taking before their interruption.
"Or was it Orwen?" she returned.
"Perhaps Aldwell?"
"Hmm, or wasn't it Rumpelstiltskin?"
"No, I believe that was his mother's name."
TBC