Beautiful Charm, Chapter II :
The Set-up and the Dress-up

The rain never stopped around the palace anymore. Not since She had gotten there. And the Prince could hardly stand it, except that he had to. He could no sooner leave the palace than leave the country. As under Her control as he was, he was a better buffer zone between Her and his country than nothing at all. As little as it might be, he would do all he could to protect it...and protect her...his apparent true love who had freed him of his curse. Was it day or night outside? How close was the Autumnal Gathering? He had not even the vaguest of ideas.

This strange force of mischief biding Her time in his palace, in his kingdom, had somehow snuck across the Northern border and before he knew it, she had usurped him in a most inconspicuous fashion. She was a tall womanly being—though he doubted seriously her actual form was that of a human, much less a woman—with an hourglass shape and vicious red lips that seamlessly matched her curved fingernails. Her voice was like a sultry afternoon in a desert where she would be the only oasis and anyone unaware of her trickery would probably find her very appealing.

The Prince could barely stand to be in the same room as her.

She was using him and his palace after all, just to get to a wizard with the heart of a child. The Prince stared through the windowpane. And to get to the wizard She was willing to go through anyone in any way possible—specifically through Sophie to the extent of almost anything, short of death. He did not want that. It was true, he did think about her often and envy Howl for all that was clear in Sophie's eyes when they were together, but he harbored no conscious bitterness. If Howl was where her heart resided, he felt no urge to come between them. This thing, this She-demon of whatever strange magic had other plans though.

"Look at you. Useless," he brooded further and began to pace; according to his vague awareness, it was still night, or very, very early morning...thereabouts. The rain made it difficult to say. Some binding contract She had him under—he glanced at the crumpled paper on the floor at the foot of his bed—kept him from leaving, kept him from sending anyone who could give Sophie the smallest inkling of what was going on, of what they were to step into. If I can't leave, I must do as much as I can the moment they set foot on the premises, he concluded for himself, and pondered all night, sketching plans and throwing them out—all in his head. It was too dangerous to actually solidify anything, to risk Her finding them and then finding him out. No, all this had to be internal—and even that place was not an entirely safe zone from Her prying ways. The damn thing didn't even have a name as far as he knew so he was forced by lack of means to think of her as a force which in some ways, he was certain weakened his resolve against her.

People always fear more what they cannot explain after all.

That peeve aside though, the Prince had a better plan of action now than he had been able to come up with since Her arrival and he decided resolutely to focus on it up until the very day itself, as it was the only feasible way he could conceive of saving the one he loved, Even if she does not love me in return, even if she is in love with...with Howl, he thought sadly for a moment, but brushed it off with logic and a desire to protect. Some things were beyond self-pity and loss. Some things were about what was right. So thinking, he went over and locked his door. Not that the She-demon or She thing or whatever had tried to get in; he had a notion she was unable because of the severely powerful wards, but he did not press the subject with Her.

Now to get these plans going, he settled and sat again at his window, seemingly watching the rain but really watching nothing external, seeing everything happen accordingly in his mind's eye. This continued for about five hours when finally, exhausted, the Prince's shoulders slumped and his chin rested on his chest, sleep claiming him for a better part of the day the followed.

On that same day, the morning light shifted in soft rivulets of warmth as Sophie turned in her covers, blinking awake slowly. Propping herself up on one arm, she used her free hand to rub the remains of sleep from her eyes, blinking again to shake the last of night off of her. Drawing her knees up to her, she held onto them, encircling them with her arms lightly and stifling a yawn.

"No more of that," she said absently to herself and with an almost inaudible sound of exertion, she pushed herself up and out of the covers, bare feet touching the cool of the wood floor. The door to her room shut behind her with a somewhat musical click and Sophie's ears didn't fail to notice that just about everything about the castle had a certain musicality to it. She wondered if Howl had meant it to be that way.

Making it downstairs, she paused at the foot of them, scanning the clean kitchen and eating area. What a difference from all those months back when she first hobbled in here, age 90 and aching. Freeing herself from her nostalgic lapse, she reached for her apron and dexterously looped it about her waist, securing it with a neat tie and then seeking out the griddle. Laughing to herself, she remembered the discussion it took her to actually get the previously missing kitchen paraphernalia into her hands. She'd practically had to beat it out of Howl who didn't seem to understand why a frying-pan would not work for that purpose.

Cracking three eggs on the side of a bowl, she whisked in some flour a little at a time and added milk and a pinch of vanilla. Probably she, Howl, Markl, Heen and even old Witch would've had to sustain themselves on bread, cheese and the occasional bacon or eggs if she hadn't insisted on adding certain useful kitchen utensils.

"Calcifer," she whispered, not wanting to disturb the friendly fire demon in case he was sleeping deeply. "Pssst, Calcifer," she tried again. Too bad you can't effectively prod a flame, she mused lightly as his two floating eyes seemed to pull themselves open to look at her drowsily. He made almost the sound of someone licking their dry lips except it was a fire so it had a crackle to it.

"Mmm, mornin' Sophie. What's that you've got there? Oh," Calcifer paused and finished, "breakfast?" Sophie nodded.

"If you wouldn't mind," she added. If Calcifer could effectively shrug, he would have but instead he grabbed himself a small, but substantial piece of wood from the pile Sophie had made sure was always there for him ever since she came into the Castle. Munching on its edges, he blinked at her.

"Well, you gonna cook with that?" he asked teasingly in a very Calcifer-manner and she nodded.

"Thanks Calcifer. Sorry to wake you," she said as she settled the griddle over him and whisked the batter a little more. Casting a glance at the spices they had, she took some cinnamon and threw it in, as well as a bit of sugar. No need for breakfast to be a dull affair, after all, she thought, mixing it all in until smooth and a thick consistency. A walk to the sink and back later proved the griddle ready as the water droplets Sophie threw on it danced back and forth, sizzling.

"Um, Sophie, you usin' those eggshells?" a hopeful voice came from underneath the griddle and Sophie nearly hit herself for being so forgetful. Of course.

"No, of course they're yours, here you go. Open up," she said and tossed in the eggshells one at a time as she poured even circles of batter onto the pan's surface. Footsteps pounded downward and Sophie was not at all surprised when Markl's voice reached her ears even as he hugged her.

"Morning Sophie!" he beamed, Heen circling at his heels, wheezing.

"My, you're both wide awake," she commented dryly and continued, "be careful Markl. Breakfast won't taste any good half cooked and on the floor...well, maybe for Heen," she amended and giggled slightly at the thought of Howl coming down only to discover breakfast had been incidentally and entirely served to the Sulliman's dog.

"Laughter, hm? Oh, breakfast," old Witch made her way to her seat and repeated as was her habit, "breakfast." It wasn't a question, which Sophie had come to understand these past few months; old Witch just repeated herself a lot.

Ten minutes, no more, later, most of the downstairs was eating, except Sophie. The hatter crept up the stairs to Howl's door and coughed a bit to make her presence known. When she did not hear anything she called out to him.

"Howl?" she questioned, somewhat reluctant to step into his room, remembering their last encounter there. Not that it had been unpleasant, much the opposite actually, but she was just a little afraid of stirrings in her she could not distinguish and so, she stayed on this side of the door. "Howl?" a little louder now. Maybe I should knock, she supposed and rapped the wood lightly with her fist. "Come now, Howl. Surely even you are awake by now," she mumbled, relenting and opening the door with some apprehension.

To her surprise and confusion, there was no one there.

Howl's room glowed with its gold trinkets and luminous green walls, some of its shinier gadgets winking in the light at her as she wandered further into it. Where is he? Her hand resting on the footboard of his bed, she looked around, confused. Had she slept in so late as to miss him going out? Surely she would have heard him...the door downstairs shut loudly and she flinched, caught in a drifting point again in her mind. I have to stop doing that, she thought briefly to herself and hurried out of Howl's room, very quietly closing the door behind her.

Sure enough, Howl was ruffling Markl's hair playfully even as she came down, and he smiled at her warmly, leaving his young apprentice to finish his breakfast in some semblance of peace.

"Good morning Sophie," he greeted, reaching up to her face and brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

"Morning yourself," she returned, "breakfast?" she offered, slipping past him with a companion smile. Arching an eyebrow at her strictly friendly behavior, Howl deftly, but gently, plucked the spatula out of Sophie's hand and flipped all four hot cakes at once, a grin on his face that could clear storms. "Show-off," she rolled her eyes, amused and took the spatula back in time to move all the hot cakes to a plate, shove the plate into Howl's hands and then push the wizard himself to the table. "Eat," and she turned away, pouring some more discs of batter onto the still sizzling pan.

"I'm just glad all he did was flip them, if he'd been the one makin' the batter you'd all be starving," Calcifer remarked, to which Howl looked briefly over his shoulder, a forkful of golden hot cake in his mouth. Sophie stifled a laugh with the back of her free hand as she made one more batch, just in case they were extra hungry, not to mention she hadn't eaten any herself yet! That was quickly remedied in the next following moments.

Sophie shot a furtive stare at Howl as they walked through Kingsbury. It was not often that they ventured out to town together. Of course Sophie would go out every so often to get more sustenance for them or they would walk in the garden through the special port door Howl had given her a while back when she still was under the curse. This was a few and far between happening though and it wasn't even really for something Sophie wanted, more what Howl wanted to do for her. And it was sweet, really it was...but she had some questions, well, a question really and it was taking up all of her thinking space.

So, if young women around her gazed a little too openly at Howl in appreciation or glared at her in some measure of jealousy, Sophie did not notice in the least. Howl noticed, but ignored them. He also noticed some—fewer than those cast his way, but a decent number—of admiring stares his companion was receiving, at which point he also ignored them but discreetly put his arm around Sophie's shoulders, much like he had during their first encounter as he had practically ushered her away from the guards.

"Howl, where were you this morning? I could've sworn if you ever left, I'd be able to hear it," she asked quietly, almost timid, some shadow of her former self making itself known. Stopping in the street altogether, Howl refrained from shaking his head and delicately used his hand to turn her face to him. He discerned an old fear in her and he did not want that.

"Sophie, you never have to fear asking me anything," he assured her, "Understand?" When she nodded, he offered her his arm instead of putting it back around her shoulders and she graciously accepted it. They walked to the crosswalk of the next intersection before he picked up where she left off. "I thought I sensed some mischief near one of the borders, so I went to check, but it was nothing," Howl said this all in such a matter-of-fact way, Sophie was almost certain he was trying to deter her from further inquisition, and on a more caring note, from further worry. So she let it pass for that moment and just held his arm a little closer to her. She would remember to inquire further, but later.

Howl paused in front of a small, neat shop the color of primrose. "What about here, Sophie?" he suggested and she fought back the urge to just sink into the ground. This was probably the kind of thing her younger sister Lettie would adore, but it still made Sophie feel awkward. "Sophie?" Howl waved his hand, concernedly in front of her face and she blinked rapidly.

"Uh, oh...alright," she tried to relax and stepped into the shop with him.

Dress-shopping.

Howl had explained to her earlier, very patiently too, how he could not make something from nothing, not something reliable anyway. Magic was tricky that way. Without the proper materialistic fibers, it could all come apart at a moment's notice, or no notice at all! He told her, a bit of a kind smirk playing on his lips, that while that may be fine for him alone, he would not want all the world to get to see what he saw, and at this, Sophie had blushed a furious shade of red she had no idea she was capable of, and nodded, her silence equal to her consent to go dress shopping for the Autumnal Gathering.

They went through four dress shops in total that day and probably more than forty dresses—pink (Sophie couldn't stand it on her, though she said for some reason it worked quite well on Howl who blithely ignored her teasing), printed (Howl decided it reminded him too much of the upholstery on Sulliman's chairs), white (Sophie had wrinkled her nose at this one, commenting that she looked ghostly in it or like she was going to bed and disappeared back behind the dressing curtain), blue, green, silver, gold, red, lace, brocade, velvet, silk...it all became a blur until the last one, as it would happen of course.

The last was a similar colour to the dress she had worn when she first met Howl in that back alley when he rescued her—and all of their adventure actually—but the material was of finer quality, silken but with less shine, a more demure touch to it. Its neckline was square, the thin straps neatly framing her upper torso, showing off her collar bones and the fairness of her skin. Fitted at the top with an empire waist rim of ribbon, one or two shades deeper than the dress itself and of a more silky fabric with more shine to accent, it flowed like water to the floor and Sophie had to admit, she liked it. Turning to one side, she had examined the back of it—or lack thereof—a little apprehensively. There really wasn't one. The fabric seemed to dip down into a deep sloping curve that ended nearly at the bottom of her lower back, showing a clean contour of a lot more skin than she was accustomed to showing. Shrugging to herself, she wondered if Howl would like this one.

"Don't you dare laugh," she warned Howl as she very reluctantly stepped out of the dressing room, gaze downward. Unfortunate place for it to be too because Howl's expression was quite special just then; if Sophie had looked up, she would have seen a face something between blown-away and extremely over appreciative and stunned too. Instead she folded her hands in front of her and raised her eyes slowly to his face which by then had been composed again, but the appreciative sparkle still glowed in his eyes—like magic.

"I'd be a fool to do such a thing," he said softly and Sophie's heart warmed. Her entire demeanor lightened noticeably too in the next instant and Howl asked, "What?"

"I like it too and that means no more dress shopping!" she exclaimed with an odd amount of glee unusual to see in her and Howl laughed. Of course, no wonder she had put up such a fight about doing this before. He sometimes forgot there had ever been a curse, as silly as it sounded. He forgot that when Sophie was at her bravest, at her most true and shining, her beauty and youth came through the curse, but at other times when she was most cowered or similarly feeling, she lost that. Howl understood only now in remembrance that Sophie probably still had residue or even more than that, of something self-depreciative in her nature, and so trying on pretty things would simply make her feel initially strange, awkward even. As he paid for the dress, he stole a glance at Sophie in his peripheral vision; she was as lovely as ever to him, always, all starlight, kind soul and knowing eyes. Timeless.

When they exited the shop, Howl took a moment to tenderly place a kiss on Sophie's forehead, a very loving, protective gesture that elicited a contented sigh from her, and he smiled.

He had been worried as soon as he heard the royal messenger knock on their door, remembering the Prince's promise to return and his theory on hearts changing. His worry of course, still sometimes came across as sullenness or something less sincere, but in this case, it was very much every fiber of sincerity he could muster. Sophie meant more than he had counted on, more than he had ever imagined anyone mattering. Perhaps it was because before her, he had never imagined caring about anyone else having been so far apart from others, always running. But he did not want to run anymore, not from Sophie. Rather the opposite. Howl wanted—he knew in his most courageous moments with himself—to spend the rest of his life with the great hearted soul beside him. Fearful of what saying something so life-changing to her would provoke though, Howl let this personal wish sit quietly in him until the messenger had come. That had nearly undone him, he noted to himself briefly, calling to mind his urgent questioning and rather...physical assault on the young hat maker.

"Howl?" it seemed a popular, one-word question mark for her lately, Sophie mused and gently tugged on his sleeve, childlike almost, but more loving. "Are you alright, Howl?" she reconstructed her question to be a little more specific.

"Whenever I am with you," he seemed to still be thinking to himself even as he spoke to her, "I feel as though I could be all right for the rest of my life." Sophie had no words to respond to this, and grasped haplessly for them anyway, standing at his side, looking frantic and also a little overwhelmed. Howl seemed to understand though and when she took his hand in hers he simply clasped it with his own and they made their way back to the door that would lead them back home.

Alright, sort of fluffy but a little foreshadowing in there all the same. Sorry if this chapter was too uneventful...I went to see the movie again last night and was left with such an extremely wonderful soaring feeling that this is probably half-the product of those feelings, half the proper set-up for the rest of the story which my left brain tells me is necessary.

Sooooo, you like? I know my grammar could be better but I'm working on it. I promise. I'm just accustomed to screenplays and poetry, not so much more novelistic style. It will improve over time though!

Review-ness? Yea, I know... I'm shameless, ah well.

smiles,
-sofi