Good morrow everybody! Please find below my extra-long update thats taken me a loooooong time to finish, stupid characters wandering off on tangents by themselves! A big thanks to all my reviewers and the workshop gang, as always. The words 'chill' and swept' are property of my sister, who served as my human thesaurus for a lot of this chapter, so i promised i'd give her a mention.Once again, this has not been beta'd cos i just want to get it posted now so I can take a breather, but a big thank-you to Trudi for her continued help. Oh, and there is one use of bad language in this chapter, you have been warned!

Chapter Eight:- The Day To End All Others

The atmosphere was strained as Chip and Raisse, 'Le Rose de France', trotted idly across the fields. They had been out for barely ten minutes and already the princess was bored. The delicate clip-clop of her pony combined with the early time of day and the lack of conversation between herself and her riding partner was making her feel sleepy. Even Puck, a particularly energetic young horse, seemed to be on the verge of collapsing into the long grass for a nap under the morning sky. Raisse glanced across at Chip, astride his beloved Ambrosius. He was staring straight ahead and sitting perfectly still in his saddle except for the gentle rhythmic sway of his upper body as the horses trotted on. He had not uttered a word since leaving the stables, yet seemed constantly aware of her presence beside him. Every so often, he would glance across as she was doing, then apparently satisfied that all was in order, he'd resume not acknowledging her for several metres before doing it again. It was just starting to get on Raisse's nerves. Where was his delight in seeing her? His happiness at their reunion? It had been two weeks since they'd seen each other. Hadn't he missed her at all? It certainly seemed that way as they plodded aimlessly along.

Raisse's attempt at a proud sulk was not working, neither were her attempts to synchronise her glances across with his. It merely made him look away quicker. This was intolerable! Why did she always have to make the first move?

"Chip."

It was not a question; it was a demand for attention. Still, he apparently had not heard her—he was barely hearing the horses' hooves on the dusty ground. His eyes stayed straight ahead, not seeing anything beyond his own mind. Raisse did not like being ignored, whether it was intentional or no.

"CHIP!"

"What?" he yelled back just as suddenly, as though snapping out of a daydream.

"Couldn't we go a little faster? This is tedious."

"I like this speed," said Chip, after too long a pause.

"Chip, I have never seen you ride this slowly."

"You have now," he retorted, still not actively involved in the conversation. It was as if he was in another world, like his own personal cocoon, but a faulty one, as snippets of reality were still filtering through. One of these snippets suddenly jerked him back to the present. In the corner of his eye, he saw Raisse, impatient and stubborn, click her tongue and dig the sides of her feet into the sides of Puck. In an instant, she was racing away, starting to gallop, hurtling towards her unknown fate.

"Raisse! No! "yelled Chip at the rapidly disappearing horse and rider. He gave chase.

Raisse was a fair rider. Her control was a little haphazard at times but her ability to squeeze speed from even the most reluctant of horses was second to none. Puck's legs were a blur as the two of them sped along the ground. Chip, who had switched from riding around on his beloved dog Sultan to horses at the age of seven, had far more riding experience but he struggled to keep up, no matter how hard he willed Ambrosius to go. He kept his eyes on the bouncing figure up ahead, feeling a curious mix of panic and fury well up inside him.

She's going to fall. She's going to fall

But she didn't fall, not even when she and Puck swerved to avoid a row of trees at the last minute. Her body moved expertly with the horse's. If Chip hadn't have been distracted by his rising level of anxiety, he would have been impressed. A slight twinge of relief appeared instead, but was quickly smothered by its preceding emotions once more.

He had given up shouting Raisse's name when his voice had vanished into his self-made wind several metres before. He pressed himself as flat against the horse's back as possible, gritting his teeth with determination. It worked, either that or Puck was growing tired of being ridden into the ground, for Chip started to gain on the horse in front. In a few minutes, he was right on Puck's tail. He could see Raisse's hair billowing out almost horizontally behind her. The sleeves of her dress had blown up so they were caught on her elbows. The delicate fabric threatened to tear.

He was alongside her now, and about to shoot her the sternest look he could manage while his skin was stretched tight across his cheekbones the way it was, when she suddenly dropped behind him. With a fluidity that came from years of riding at high speed, Chip turned Ambrosius around as tightly as he could, slowing down all the time until he came to a stop just in front of where Raisse had dismounted and was now standing with her arms folded; a provocative smirk on her face. Puck looked ready to collapse behind her.

Chip whipped himself off the horse and dropped to the ground with a thud. Red-hot anger tore through his senses.

"What the…Raisse…How did you…Why the…"

The words stuck in his throat as he struggled hard to speak without directing a string of expletives at the princess. Her next badly-chosen words saved him the trouble.

"Awake now are you, sleepy head?"

He closed his eyes and held his face in his hands, battling to bring himself back from the brink of violence. It had gotten harder to do these last few years, as the nightmares increased and his frustration with everything grew. His temper, once non-existent, now threatened to engulf him. He opened his eyes and looked around in desperation for something inanimate to kick, but they were in the middle of a field. The only possible recipients of his rage were living, and he knew he'd rather die than harm any of them. Somehow, he managed to gain some control. His anger reduced enough to keep his language clean at least.

"Raisse, what on earth were you thinking?"

"I was just playing around. What is the matter with you?"

Her tone was just as defiant. Chip threw the question back at her.

"What's the matter with me? You just…," he said the words with disbelief. "You just sped off! What if you'd lost control, huh? What then?"

"I can handle myself, Chip."

"No, you can't! You haven't got the faintest idea, have you? You haven't got a clue! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"You do it all the time! I've seen you!"

"That's different."

"How is it different?"

"Because I know what I'm doing."

"As do I!"

"No, you don't Raisse! "screamed Chip into the wind, his temples throbbing. "Fucking hell!"

Raisse's eyes widened at his blatant rudeness and disrespect. What on earth was wrong with him? Time was he would have relished the thrill and exhilaration of racing through the grass. He would have laughed, excitement not anger flushing his cheeks red, and then congratulated her on almost beating him. Now, she was not ashamed to admit that underneath her haughty stance, she was a little frightened of him. She would not let him see that though.

"How dare you!" she exploded. "How dare you speak to me like that! Who do you think you are?"

Chip spoke through gritted teeth.

"I am trying to keep you safe, Raisse. It doesn't help me when you thunder off on Puck like there'll be no consequences. You could have been killed, can't you see that?"

"It is not your job to keep me safe, Chip. I don't need anyone to keep me safe! I'm not a child, I'm a grown woman, and what's more, I'm the princess of France!"

"Well, you certainly aren't behaving like it! You're behaving like the spoilt little brat that you are."

Raisse was stunned into silence. There were few words that could hurt her, but Chip's last sentence had been like a slap in the face. To her dismay, she felt hot tears sting the corners of her eyes. Rather than let Chip see her vulnerability, she marched off in a random direction, not caring where she was going and unwittingly heading straight for the day's inevitability. She heard Chip running behind her calling her name. He sounded anxious; he'd obviously realised he'd pushed her too far. Good!

"Get away from me, Chip!" she sobbed loudly.

"Raisse, for god's sake, I'm sorry! I didn't mean…" he broke off abruptly.

Startled by his sudden hush, Raisse turned, frantically wiping away any stray tears with her sleeve, to find Chip staring beyond her, with a fresh expression of fear on his face. Puzzled, she turned back, and was suddenly aware of a gentle roaring noise. She looked in front of her. It was a waterfall, strong and majestic in the morning light. A shimmering mist rose gracefully up from the lake beneath it. Raisse found it completely beautiful. She started to walk towards it, relishing as the hot stickiness of her face was cooled by a thousand tiny droplets of water.

"Raisse…".

Another warning from Chip, but this time it was much feebler. She looked back over her shoulder to see him rooted to the spot. His face had turned completely white and he stared unblinkingly at the cascade of water.

He's afraid?

Raisse was tempted to laugh out loud. Chip was afraid of the waterfall! Chip, the great adventurer, was scared of something so beautiful. It was almost criminal. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing at the edge of the lake, watching the soft ripples as the water hit the rocks. It was mesmerising. A quick glance back revealed Chip had not moved. He looked absolutely terrified. Raisse could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment. She'd grown up thinking that Chip could do anything, that he was an invincible free spirit who feared nothing, her hero. Now, she realised he was nothing more than a coward. Not only that, he was an arrogant bully who somehow thought he had the right to tell her—the Princess of France—what to do. Once upon a time she'd thought of him as the one person she knew who really understood her, someone who saw her as more than a figurehead—a friend, a human being. He had become like a stranger to her now. He was just like everybody else.

Crying again, but this time from anger and resentment, Raisse stepped up onto one of the flatter rocks and looked around. The rocks all around the water's edge varied in size from little more than pebbles to massive boulders. In front of her, they seemed to form a path that went right around and behind the waterfall. She smiled mischievously. She wondered just how far Chip would go to save her if he was so desperate to keep her out of harm's way. She moved on the next rock. It was slightly larger than the last and she had to use her hands to pull herself onto it. Once she'd started, she found she couldn't stop. Here she was exploring, conquering nature, getting her far-too-perfect hands dirty—and it felt amazing. Enlightening, mysterious—it almost felt like she was being drawn to the ever-tumbling water by a mystical force, an enigmatic natural magic hidden deep beneath the rocks of ages. She closed her eyes as she clambered on to the next rock, breathing in the spray of the water. It tasted pure and delicious. It made the water at the castle seem vastly inferior, little more than clear mud. She opened her eyes once more and looked down. She was standing about fifteen feet above the surface of the water. The noise of the waterfall drowned out all others, filling her head with its irresistible frothy roar. She had gone far enough now—the rocks up ahead were wet and slippery—and she had no intention of falling in. She was no fool. She hoped she was far enough along for Chip to be a mess of panic below her. It would serve him right for treating her like a common child.

Triumphantly, she turned around, half-expecting Chip to be scrambling up the rocks below her with that pleasing anxiety etched on to his face, but he was not there. He was still on the ground, immobile. Her heart sank. Why wasn't he coming to save her? Surely she was worth more then his cowardice. Or was he doing it to prove a point, as she was? The point that he now cared for nothing, not even her. Raisse prayed that this wasn't true. Yet there he was, still as stone amidst the swirl of the mist.

"Chip!" she screamed above the deafening roar of sound, suddenly not caring anymore if she sounded pathetic. The mist was choking her. Gingerly, she began to climb back down the rocks, feeling ashamed of herself. He was right. She was nothing more than a spoilt, sulky child, hardly the right qualities for a future Queen. All she wanted, now more than ever, was to apologise to Chip and have him hold her and tell it that everything would be alright, like he used to. Then, they would head for home and she would help him with the work around the stables to make up for her stupid and dangerous behaviour. She smiled a little at this and looked once more at her friend below her.

Her smile vanished. Her lips began to tremble. She could feel the colour drain slowly from her face. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. There was Chip, he still hadn't moved, but this was not what was paralysing every limb of her body and turning them cold like ice. Above Chip's head, there hung a pair of eyes. At first she thought she must be imagining them, but then she realised she could never imagine anything so uniquely terrible. They were cruel, evil eyes--plain as day. They radiated pure malice and scorn.

Whimpering, she stepped backwards as they started to move towards her. She knew little of black magic, only what she'd glanced at in books that were then shut quickly, either by a well-meaning guardian, or by herself, but those eyes reeked of it. She would not have been surprised if she were staring into the eyes of the devil himself. She took another step back, and another. Her foot hit solid rock. She clambered back on to it, nearly losing her footing, but it wasn't the water that mattered anymore. It was those murky-coloured irises, those pupils that were darker than any substance known to her, burning closer and closer. She stepped back again, and felt only air beneath her foot.

Silently, she slipped off the rocks and into the churning water.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The splash of solid hitting liquid brought Chip to his senses. For the past few minutes, he had found himself unable to move. At first, it was the fear. He had seen the waterfall and known. This was it. It was going to happen, and he was powerless to stop it. A tragedy, sixteen years in the making, unfurling before his frozen eyeballs. The noise of the water pounded inside his skull. His ears rang with it. He wanted desperately to be sick, but the dreadful knots inside his gut just would not go away.

He had seen Raisse start to climb in his mind's eye, and he'd tried to call out to her, but no words came. He had tried to run when he'd first gotten over the initial shock, but his legs refused to budge. With sheer horror, he realised he was paralysed, forced to be a spectator to the fate of the princess. This was magic of the most foul kind. He sensed it with every fibre of his being. It swam around his head and distorted his vision, making him dizzy and leaving a blackened taste in his throat. He was beyond disgusted to find that a part of him revelled in it. It was deliciously dark, inviting, and seductive--more satisfying than any mortal pleasure. It rushed through his veins like new blood and made every hair on his body stand up. He was gasping for breath but the choking tasted sweet. He fought it, of course he fought it, it was like any other toxic substance—cigars, extra strong ale, opium—and he pushed it away with his mind. By the time he could think clearly, Raisse was being chased by the same force, and it was winning. He watched helplessly as she moved awkwardly along the rocks, her eyes fixed on something he could not see. Suddenly, she lost her balance and plunged without a sound into the lake. She didn't even scream.

Chip was released with a jerk. He fell forward, his muscles not quite ready for him to regain the command of his own body. He took a deep breath and forced himself up, ignoring the pains and cramps that shot through him. He stumbled to the waters edge and felt fear grip him again. It was the water from his nightmares—there was no doubting it, only now he understood. It hadn't been him drowning, it had been Raisse. He had seen her final moments played under the guise of his. This did not make him any less afraid however. He had hardly ever swum.

"Raisse!", he yelled fruitlessly into the falls. Nothing moved on the surface of the water, not even an extra ripple. Something told him Raisse had never learnt to swim either. Enough was enough. He tore his jacket off and dived into the water.

The cold hit him like a thousand needles piercing him all over his body. He gasped, and swallowed a large mouthful of the vile-tasting water, then promptly coughed it back up. His head broke the surface with his hair dripping in his eyes. His lungs felt fit to burst already, and he had been in the water for mere seconds. Letting adrenaline take over, he half-swam, half-trod water as he moved around the lake looking for Raisse, gripping onto the rocks for support where he could. The water got deeper as he moved further towards the waterfall, where it had eroded the bedrock through centuries of constant hammering. It was relentless. Now, whenever he came up for air, his face was bombarded with spray, and he could feel full well the awesome power of the water as it tried to grind him into the rocks again and again. Every so often, he shouted her name but was drowned out by the water breaking onto the rocks. A minute went by, then another—and still no sign of Raisse, yet Chip refused to succumb to the overwhelming urge to get out before the water claimed two bodies instead of one. He knew he could not keep it up much longer as his arms and legs were starting to stiffen and every mouthful of water he swallowed burned like fire all the way down his throat. He dove under again, kicking his legs as hard as he could and scouring every inch of the area before his air ran out and he was forced to return to the surface, although it was not that much better up there. He flung his arms out and pushed against the water—and suddenly hit something too solidto bewater and too softto berock. He grabbed onto it and peered through the murky gloom. It was Raisse's shoulder.

As quickly as he could, he locked his arm tight around her and swam upwards, struggling against the raging waters. His head finally broke free of the suffocating liquid and he gulped in as much air as he could muster before stretching for the shallower area where he had dived in. He looked quickly at Raisse. The lack of movement in his arms told him she was unconscious. He had to hurry.

With great effort, he lifted her up and flopped onto dry land, before hauling himself out of the water after her. Exhaustion set in as he lay on his side, spluttering up the last remnants of foreign fluid from his lungs. The sun was higher in the shy now and its heat was already baking his skin. Resisting the temptation to just lie down and fall asleep—its warmth was heavenly after the cruel chill of the lake—he crawled through the grass to where Raisse lay half-sprawled on the rock, her long hair obscuring her face.

"Raisse?" he whispered, suddenly aware she had not made a sound since he'd found her. Gently, he swept her hair—now the colour and texture of dull pondweed—off of her face. Underneath, her skin was wan and her eyes closed. She wasn't breathing.

Chip wrangled with another wave of panic coupled with an increasing desire to wake up in his bed, like he had done every other time, and ransacked his brain for the first-aid knowledge that his mother, and Cogsworth combined, had insisted he'd need one day.

What a time to need it, he thought, bitterly.

He leant over Raisse, noticing that the dress she's seemed so proud of was hanging off her, revealing cuts and scrapes along the side of her body. Her Italian leather riding boots were gone, her stockings ripped into shreds, revealing bare and broken feet. Everything that made her Raisse was missing.

Without another thought, he pinched her nose and gave her the kiss of life, before pressing underneath her ribcage to try and force the water out of her body, keeping strict count of his breaths and presses all the time,. He repeated the cycle...and again…and again, growing more and more frantic with every second that her body remained lifeless.

Again.

Again.

He finally gave up ten minutes later.