A/N- Four months... that's an improvement, isn't it? Anyone? Haha... well, this was a toughie, for the record. I assume none of you expect perfection, but... yeah. Don't expect it. There's a bit of angst and a bit of schmultz (never too much, of course). If you don't like romance, well, just stick with me. I promise things won't be lovey-dovey for too long. She's got to leave, remember? And there's a reason, too. Here you go. Please enjoy.

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CHAPTER 10

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TO THE BRINK AND BACK

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PART TWO OF OUR HEROINE'S SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY

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I decided after five minutes of Tata's speech about how my mother had predicted the "love" between Jerrold and I long before it was "obvious" that I would rather risk my luck with my uncle than listen to any of that nonsense. Tata seemed pleased at the fact that I was utterly terrified, and I had a fleeting suspicion that her obsession with Jerrold and I was my uncle's evil scheme. She got rather offended when I voiced my opinion, which hadn't exactly been my intention. However, it did succeed in getting her in a huff, which was especially amusing because she was adamant about not getting upset with me on my birthday, which we both knew to be completely hopeless.

"I'm not going to get angry at you," Tata told me, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm off to tell Ollo to start the cake. What kind would you prefer?"

I grinned, shrugging a shoulder. "Any kind, I suppose. I hope I can trust you not to poison it, Tata. That would make things terribly simple for Edward and-"

"Rosalie!"

"-and he's already got the upper hand," I finished, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tatiana, but you deserve that after the torture you've put me through this morning."

"Chocolate, I'm assuming?" she replied, a smirk barely visible on her face. "And you, Rosalie... I've decided that you've lost your mind entirely. I know this is going to fall on deaf ears, but I simply must say that you'd have to be absolutely insane not to accept a proposal-"

"A what! Who said anything about a proposal?"

"If it were to happen! You'd be insane not to marry him. That's all I'm saying," Tata finished seriously, bursting into sudden laughs as soon as she finished saying it. "That is what I like to call intentional torture, mistress."

"Haha. Very funny," I muttered miserably. "I think I'll stay in my room all day if you don't mind."

She put an arm around my shoulder lovingly. "I think that in due time you'll come to understand your feelings. You over-analyze everything. It comes from reading all those books. Sure, they do wonders for that delightfully brilliant head of yours, but... darling, you'rehopeless when it comes to affairs of the heart."

"And you're hopeless when it comes to realizing that you should probably leave. Now. For your own sake."

Tata made her way to the door, smiling again before she left. "You're seventeen."

"I'm seventeen." I shook my head in an odd sort of disbelief. It seemed silly to just be shocked, as I'd been worrying over being seventeen for some time. Still... I was the same age as my mother was when she married, for heavens sake! That in itself was mortifying.

I set about readying myself for the day, caught in an odd mix of apprehension and awe. The apprehension won over in the end. Uncle Edward would probably be worse than he had ever been before. Unless he was counting on me marrying Jerrold (which I highly doubted, as it was far too risky for him to bank on), Edward would devise worse things to do to me. I couldn't quite imagine anything worse than the things he'd already done, save beatings or time in the stocks or something ridiculous like that. Even Edward wasn't quite that bad. He had to keep up appearances, of course, and he knew I had no qualms about telling the royal family of my troubles. No, corporal punishment was where the line was drawn. Still, there were pains that he could inflict on me without raising a finger. He was quite gifted in that area.

I glanced out the window for a moment, leaning so that I could see the faint outline of old palace. I smiled, despite the desperate protestations of my mind. Jerrold, whatever he was to me, was the best friend that I could ever hope for. No confusions that my heart had thrown at me could ever change that. Whatever it was that he was doing there (I could think of several foolish things), I knew it would be something to make me smile. He seemed to understand that I didn't want any diamond necklace or fancy dress for my birthday. I needed a laugh and a friend.

Hopefully, the promise of mocking Jerrold later in the day would help me through whatever Edward had up his sleeve. He had been too tolerable lately. I imagined that the expression 'the calm before the storm' was a fitting one for describing my Uncle preceding his evil schemes. Perhaps he believed it would lull me into a false sense of security, but it served to make me little more than paranoid. I suppose that fact was neither beneficial nor detrimental to his schemes, as paranoia gave me no defense against him. How could I possibly defend myself?

I took a deep breath in, steeling myself for whatever was to come. Apathy was the key to weakening him, but I feared that my limited (or nonexistent) control of my emotions and tongue would be my downfall. I gave a terse laugh. For Kyrria's sake... there I was, standing in my room and developing some in depth plan for an attack that I wasn't even sure was going to happen! I am really losing it, I berated myself silently, uneasy nonetheless. Procrastination would be my undoing, so I sent myself bravely (or at least with a feeble act of bravado) to face my fate.

I found Edward in the dining hall, his gray eyes surveying the food on his plate with distaste. "Ollo is getting lazy. Look at this- this-" He paused, picking up the croissant on his plate and dropping it back down in disgust. "Can that be considered food? I wonder, Rosalie, do you think he is worth keeping?"

"He's been around forever," I replied stoicly. "And I adore his cooking."

"Hmm. I wonder, did your father hire him?" Edward seemed to take delight in this question, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of where the discussion was headed. "I don't know. I suppose so. Why? Why does that matter? Is this one of your rather pathetic jabs at my father's taste or something? Uncle, I do wish you'd find something better to insult."

I almost slapped myself on the wrist. Why on earth did I say such things? All it did was goad Edward into punishing me. However, my uncle merely seemed pleased when I said that. There was something deeply ominous in that self-satisfied look in his eyes and that loathsome smirk on his thin lips.

"Do you?" He stood up, shaking his head in amusement as he began pacing the floor. "Oh, dear... darling, darling, darling. You're so blissfully ignorant that I cannot help but laugh at you at times. It is almost cute."

I took a seat at the table, propping my chin in the base of my palm. "I never realized it before. You say vague things like that to trick me into believing that you know some all-important fact that will forever change everything. You disappoint me."

He gave me a sideways glance, some malignant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Rosalie, dear girl, I nearly pity you. I almost thought to myself when accumulating my... gift, I suppose it can be called... Yes, I nearly thought: 'No, Edward, it is too terrible. Even you cannot possibly think of sharing this with the girl!' You make it very hard to feel sorry for you, though-"

"Are you still talking to yourself in second person, or may I assume that you're addressing me now?" I delighted in the taken aback expression that momentarily crossed his features.

"Such insolence is the reason that I may reveal what I have discovered to you with no residual guilt. Your smug pride for your father, when standing where I stand, is incredibly ironic. Incredibly pathetic, heartbreaking even... but amusing. And terribly so."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, dear. It is so." He gave a small bow, mockingly. "Pardon me, for a moment. I'm off to retrieve your gift. Happy birthday, by the way. I imagine it shall be a memorable one."

"As do I," I called out, watching as he strode out of the room. "And I will try to feign surprise, beloved uncle, because I know how much it means to you!"

I could hear his scoff from the other room. I stole Edward's 'unworthy' croissant and nibbled on it thoughtfully. Men like Edward were all talk; whatever he presented to be horrifically disturbing was probably mildly offensive at the worst. A pile of wrinkled papers was dropped before me haphazardly, causing the papers to scatter all over the table. I looked up at Edward curiously.

"I apologize, Rosalie, that I could not get them bound. You will, I trust, forgive me."

"Of course," I muttered, gathering the papers into a pile. "May I ask-"

"Read them. The first- the one on top- was the first I read. I promise that you will become just as intrigued as I."

I picked up the yellowing paper, narrowing my eyes slightly to read the unfamiliar, scrawled handwriting. "'Dear Nathaniel,'" I read in as dull of voice as I could manage. " 'It has been five months since I have heard from you, and I must tell you that my heart is breaking-'" I paused, narrowing my eyes at the letter, both taken aback, bewildered, and doing my best to keep all emotions to myself. "What is this, exactly? I don't quite understand. A letter. It's a love letter to my father. That means nothing."

"Do you mind?" Edward took it from my hands, cleared his throat, and held the letter out in front of him for dramatic effect. " 'Darling, if you no longer care for me, then please have mercy and tell me so. But I cannot believe that. I wanted to forget everything that has passed between us. I know that you are married and that there is a child. She is rich. She facilitated your dreams of greatness. With me you might have been Sir Nathaniel if your ambition had carried you far enough; Sir Nate of no particular importance. But with her: Duke! Oh, Nate... I wanted to think that you loved her more, but can that be true! After the way you looked at me when we met by chance- no, Nate. Please, love, just respond.' "

I ripped it from his hands and scanned over it, my eyebrows furrowed. "That doesn't matter. She knew him when they were young. She wanted to believe he still loved her. I pity her uncle; that is all." It wasn't all; not really.

Edward pouted at me mockingly. "Yes. And secretly you wonder if its true. If your father, the saintly man, really would abandon some former lover to become a Duke. Perhaps he and I are not so different after all. And perhaps the storybook romance of your parents was not as idealistic as your mother and your insufferable 'Tata' were so fond of telling you. Why do you think he was gone so often? Because he loved her so utterly and completely? Nathaniel left whenever he could. She adored him so completely and it nearly killed him. He knew how to play the part so well.. He was so guilty that it made him ill." He smiled at me. "Your father was the best actor I'd ever seen. I suppose I was jealous. He could always see the greatest weakness in his victim and sway them with his innocent smile. Nathaniel had me tricked for a while. I thought he actually loved her. But-"

"No. You're just trying to-" I sighed deeply, but there was an odd tightening in my throat that signified the onset of tears. I hated him. I glanced at the letters on the table with an impossible amount of hatred. "They mean nothing. She couldn't let go. My mother-"

Edward took another letter and bent down to my ear to read it. " 'I was so glad to receive your letter. My heart was pounding and I could barely steady myself. You will come! Oh, Nate. I have thought to be guilty; I don't doubt that your wife is a good woman... and the child! But Nate, I could not think of them. To me they are not real. All I know is that you have promised to come and see me, and that is all that matters.' "

I tore the letter from his hands and ripped it to pieces. By then I had lost my will to disguise my emotions. "They're... You! You found some way to have these made. They're not real. She's just someone you created to hurt me."

I blinked painfully and glanced at the shredded letter in my lap. I sounded pathetic, even to myself and I was quite easily convinced of whatever I thought ought to be the truth The letters were aged and they looked and felt far too authentic for me to truly convince myself of anything. My mind was oddly still. I had not allowed anything to register for I was still in a state of denial. Even if it was true (which I wanted desperately to doubt), it was too overwhelming to grasp in a moment's time. It shattered everything I had ever believed; everything that I had ever valued.

"I wonder if she knew of them. They were pitifully concealed; in a box under his bed, and even some in the drawer of his desk, for heavens sake," Edward sang out with a terrible joy in his voice. "I believe he wished her to find them. Imagine being shackled for seven years with such terrible guilt. Perhaps he wanted her to know he'd been unfaithful; it would free him to know that she despised him.

"She never could, of course. Isabelle was too weak; too pitifully obsessed with him to ever hate him. She would deny it to herself. I believe she must have known. She was never strong enough to even grow angry. Isabelle was too weak to let her dream husband fade."

"Edward..." I choked on my words and couldn't manage to retrieve them. The worst of it all was that I could see everything that he said as being true. And that was perhaps the worst part. Not even the truth; the fact that I could compromise my admiration so easily. That I could forget my pride and call her a spineless fool; and him an unfaithful manipulator! Was I so ungrateful? Still... How could it be refuted? The letters (from whomever she was... it didn't even matter) and his story... they made sense.

My mind's eye could see Father wringing his hands shamefully and leaving a stray letter out on his desk in hopes of her finding it. Perhaps Mother did. Her pretty face would fall into shock and then some sort of quiet determination to never again speak of it. That was the way that she would have been raised; to simply push on with her life and to that there was ever a flash of anger or even hatred in her mind. Could she really just swallow it? When your entire perception of life is shattered, can you really just move on?

The question was more directed at myself than at my mother. Perhaps I was putting too much stock in what my uncle said; that I believed him too easily and fought not nearly hard enough for them. Even if what he said was true in its entirety, the least that they deserved was to be defended as stupidly and relentlessly as could be managed. And I had it in me to argue pointlessly for days on end, even if I had no reason to believe anything I said was true. I didn't have the heart for it at that moment. Pride and anger gave me an invincible drive to argue up a storm and to oppose my uncle's every word, but I was sorely lacking in both. I had only overwhelming doubt and a lonely uncertainty comparable to a lost puppy, and obviously neither lent me very much strength. I wanted to muster some fiery rebuttal more than anything, but he had finally rendered me too weak to do even that.

It was all a lie. Yes, I was weak, but... All a lie! Everything! Every dream and memory that had preserved me through it all. A charade, a facade, lies! Certainly the small things were not lies: the books were not lies, but they were no longer there to offer comfort. They loved me, of course, but that... I did not care so much for that, really. Thinking of them, and of the way that everything seemed to make sense when they were together; that was what I'd loved. It wasn't true. The small pathetic voice reasoned with me: He's made it all up; it's one of his games! But the letters spread before me seemed to smother all hope of that being true. They were real. I knew it because my gut had lurched at the mere sight of them, and their words made me ill. Edward could never have orchestrated it

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Edward said, his voice subtly taunting. "I can but imagine what they are."

My mouth moved to form words, but all that managed to come out was a pathetic "I hate you". He looked back at me with his chin tilted haughtily in the air. He saw I'd been broken, and I saw it, too.

He was clever, certainly, but by no means a genius. Every argument I'd ever made (or at least all that I could remember) involved some comparison between the evil, vile Edward and the saint that was my father. Any idiot would have known where my weakness lied. I broadcasted it to the world. Ignorance is bliss, truly and honestly. I hated myself most of all that moment. I'd brought it upon myself.

Part of me wanted to leave that cursed house with my damnable uncle and its stupid lies. I'd fought so hard for so long for it, but it didn't seem worth it anymore. I'd fought for them and for me; so that I'd have that part of them with me always. I didn't really want it anymore. It seemed symbolic of my loss; it possessed the beauty and perfection that I had adored in my parents, but held only perpetual hurt and loss. Was I to stay another whole year and be reminded of my loss every single day?

With trembling knees I stood and began gathering the cursed letters. Tata could never know. She loved my parents; she saw my father as the hero that I once had. She had to remain the same. Everything in my world had changed; every last thing I had once relied on was changing. Not Tata. Never her. She still had to whisper my parents' story into my ear whenever a birthday came about, or smile at me and tell me how wonderful they were. She could never know. They had to remain beautiful to her, for they needed sympathy somewhere. I don't think they retained very much beauty or mystique with me.

Hugging the letters to my chest, I struggled up the stairs. Only with my door securely locked behind me did I finally break into sobs. I choked and sputtered for what seemed an eternity, tearing the letters to pieces and wishing that I had never turned seventeen to begin with.

---

I burned the last letter at one in the afternoon, and by that time the sobs had subsided. I wondered momentarily if I should have read them first for they may have offered some sort of clarity. Everything that I had found out earlier still seemed hazy and unreal; as if I were caught in the midst of a terrible nightmare. It didn't really matter, though. I didn't really want clarity. I wanted a return to simplicity; a return to the beautiful dream that had been my perception of my parents.

Taking in a deep breath, I wiped my eyes for a final time. I had to come out eventually. Tata had already knocked on my door, but I had yet to pull myself together at that point. Besides, Jerrold was bound to drop by any moment. I really didn't want to see either of them, but I felt it was my duty to anything in my power to make an appearance of bravery. Edward couldn't know the extent of my devastation.

I glanced in a mirror, displeased by the glassy-eyed, pallid girl that looked back at me. Anyone that knew me would be able to tell right away that something was wrong. I grabbed the powder on my vanity that had been used all of two times in the six years I'd had it and blotted my face amateurishly.

"Rosalie!"

"What!" I set down the powder and approached the door uncertainly. "Yes?"

Tata gave an audible groan on the other side. "Will you open up? I refuse to hold a conversation with a door!"

I cracked the door open uncertainly, trying to keep any trace of despair out of my eyes. "What?"

Instantly she observed something awry. I guess I should say that I instantly noticed her noticing something awry with me. Whether it was the white powder randomly spotted across my face or the puffiness around my eyes, I couldn't quite determine.

"Rosalie Margaret, what on earth..." She tilted my face towards her rigidly. "Whatever is the matter?"

I rubbed my face and made an expression of ignorance. "Nothing. I'm fine. I was reading poetry. Lord Tyron. It moved me to tears." I managed to say it with as much conviction as I could muster, but I doubted that Tata would ever buy it.

She didn't. "Do you think me completely unaware of your little tricks after all this time?" Tata rolled her eyes. "You may lie as much as you like to me, but I hope that you'll at least tell someone. It does no good to keep things bottled up inside you. One day they'll pile up so high that they'll cause you to burst."

"That will be a terrible mess. I'd pity whoever has to clean that up." I didn't smile to her like I would have under any other circumstance. I couldn't, though. Nothing inside me felt even remotely humorous. Sure, I could say the stupid little quips that I always said, but nothing in it was heartfelt. Every moment my stomach clenched and I was reminded by the terrible nagging voice in my head that everything I treasured was destroyed.

"Please, Rosalie. If I can help-"

"You can't," I snapped back brusquely. I didn't mean to, but it was all I could do to get her away from me. I questioned my ability to keep silent at that moment, and with her persistent pressing I worried that I might actually tell her. I could imagine little worse at the moment.

"I will not be spoken to in such a way by you, young lady. If you are upset-"

"I'm not upset. I just wish that you didn't have to bother me. I just wish that you'd all leave me alone."

Tata crossed her arms over her chest and gave me her most intimidating look. "If there is something wrong, I feel a world of pity for you, be assured of that. However, that gives you no right to act all prissy and rude, to me no less!"

"I apologize," I said, looking to my feet with feigned shame. "I just miss them." I hated saying it, because it was painfully far from the truth. Tata would believe that though. I knew she would.

She swallowed and gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm. I felt terribly ill. "If you can't tell me, at least tell him." Tata handed me a piece of paper with such a look of heartfelt sympathy that I was certain my guilt would consume me.

"What is it?" I asked miserably, not even bothering to disguise my feelings. I unfolded the paper and read the familiar scrawl aloud. "'His Highness, Heir to the Throne of Kyrria, Duke of Bast, Count of Yrula, Viscount of Isulia, Lover of Good Books, Admirer of Independent Maidens, and Best Friend to the Most Venerable Duchess of Kyrria, etc., etc., Prince Jerrold most humbly requests the company of the dearly beloved Rosalie of Frell at the Old Palace in celebration of her seventeenth birthday, and mocking over the fact that she will never ever be the same age as His Highness, Prince Jerrold, etc., etc. His Highness (you will forgive me if the use of etc. is discontinued; I believe my numerous titles have been well established) requests the lady's presence at no later than two o'clock. Celebrations will conclude when the Most Venerable Rosalie of Frell tires of His Highness' company (if such a thing could actually happen), and mocking will continue until His Highness tires of it (which, again, will probably never happen). Please arrive promptly. Sincerely, His Highness, Duke of... (insert titles here), Prince Jerrold' Heavens... he's a fool." I glanced at the letter and then to Tata.

"Your fool, though" Tata whispered. "Isn't he?"

I shook my head, forcing a soft laugh. "You don't know when to stop..."

I'd nearly forgotten about that, but to be honest it was almost a welcome distraction. 'Almost' being the operative word, of course. Maybe I loved him. Somehow that wasn't as earth-shattering as finding out that the parents I adored and idolized did not love each other with such impossibly overwhelming fervor as I had always thought. Or even at all, in my father's case. He wasn't the selfless person I supposed he was; he was greedy and materialistic and clever enough to hide it behind a guise of 'true love'. Again the clenching in my stomach started.

"Well you ought to go. You'll be late," she chided, the mischievous glee in her eyes fading a bit as she noticed the dread in my face. "Please just tell him, dear. Whatever it is, he'll know what to say. I'm afraid I don't always know how to handle you, but I'm certain he's better at it than me."

For some reason, I gave her the biggest smile I could manage. "He's a fool."

"Your fool."

"Yes. My fool." I still felt ill about everything that had happened that morning, but it was true. I knew it.

---

With the stupid false pretentiousness of Jerrold's invitation, I almost expected a band of trumpeters to announce my arrival at the old palace just for kicks. I tied Kummeck to a post, slightly apprehensive at the way he was bucking wildly. The last thing that I needed was to have to walk all the way home from the Old Palace. Then again, it would really add to the tragic drama that my birthday was turning out. All I needed was for Jerrold to tell me he was wildly in love with Calantha to make the catastrophe complete. I would have scoffed, but somehow I worried that I might jinx myself and it would actually happen. Yes, it was probably the stupidest, most childish thing to even think... as if Jerrold could actually love her... but it seemed that the day could only get worse. After preparing yourself so regularly for something terrible to happen (and then finding that something terrible will happen), it seems impossible that anything could ever go right. Maybe that's why lovi-... why 'my feelings' for Jerrold scared me. My life in general was devastating. A romance could not change that.

Honestly, I don't even know why I was thinking of romance. I was desolate. Or maybe I just wanted to be desolate. Maybe I wanted to think of romance, but I was guilty over... what? Not hating my father every second of every hour of every day? I still hated him enough. Or perhaps not succumbing to sobs every two minutes when it struck me that I no longer had my parent's fairy tale love to rely on for comfort? Analyzing myself was difficult and pointless. I never made sense anymore.

I entered the palace and began climbing the main spiral staircase, half- expecting Jerrold to jump out at me and rattle off his titles or start bowing profusely or something ridiculous like that. However he was not to be found, at least not in the obvious range of sight. I was not about to go looking for him either; the Old Palace had hundreds of rooms and navigating the many rooms took days. Things were bad enough as they were, and I preferred not to starve to death in some far-off room in the palace while searching for Jerrold.

Luckily, he made his appearance after several minutes of waiting on the top of the staircase. He appeared out of some corridor with some enormous brimmed, jewel-encrusted, maroon colored hat that appeared to have some cobwebs on it. I stared at him for a moment stupidly before attempting a smile.

"His Highness, Heir to the Throne of Kyrria, Duke of- whatever it is you're Duke of-... I must say that is the most hideous thing I've ever seen. Where on earth did you find it?"

He gave me an enormous grin. "It's your present! I do hope you like it." He took it off and bent to place it on my head, but I moved away horrified.

"It's got spider-webs on it!"

"It's an antique. It belonged to one of my ancestors. I can think of dozens of courtiers that would proudly wear this on their heads and tell some long winded story of its royal origins. It's priceless!"

"Burn it," I replied, "So that no poor soul will ever have to suffer through such a tale."

Jerrold narrowed his eyes at me. "You're upset-"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Out with it, then. I won't present your real present until you're actually in the frame of mind to appreciate it."

"Jerrold! I'm fine. I swear." I said it with all the tenuity of someone just recovering from a bout of tears. Which I pretty much was.

"Swear it upon my life. Upon your life. Upon your parent's graves!" He taunted childishly, not quite aware of what he'd said or how it would affect me.

I stared at the ground for a moment, biting my lip with such force that I was certain it would bleed. It was no use anyways. He knew me well; maybe he even loved me.

"I'm not well." Perfect. As if he hadn't noticed that.

"I can see that," he said thoughtfully, taking a seat beside me and taking off his ridiculous hat. "What's wrong?" Something about his proximity to me made me feel shameful and flustered.

"Edward's just being horrible again. You'd think I'd have better control by now, but he's really outdone himself."

"How so?" He moved closer. I started wringing my hands nervously.

"It's all a lie, you see. There were these letters... from some woman, but she doesn't really matter. He loved her, I guess. He married Mother because he wanted to be a Duke. He fooled us all. And he wanted her to know, but she didn't want to know. She fooled herself into thinking she was truly happy, and that there was nothing wrong. It wasn't perfect or beautiful or lovely. It was just a lie that he started and she continued."

"Rosalie..."

"And the worst part is that she convinced herself so completely that it all wasn't true! On her deathbed, on her God-forsaken deathbed, she was telling me that she wanted to see him. Can you imagine? Why? She couldn't stay with me because of him? After all that! He didn't love her, and she was just a fool. Those are my parents. They're not lovely and clever people. They're fools and liars and manipulators. So you see, he's really outdone himself. Now I can't even love them anymore. They just seem sad and pathetic."

Jerrold stared at me. "That's terrible!"

"It is."

He stood up, suddenly glaring at me. "No, Rosalie, what you've said about them! That's terrible! You'll just listen to what he says-"

"The letters weren't fake! He didn't love her, Jerrold!"

"You don't know that! For heaven's sake, all you have to go on are some ancient love letters and his word? And now you've completely given up on everything that they taught you? Just like that? Because of him?"

I blinked back tears, suddenly uncertain about everything. He was supposed to understand, not start berating me. "You don't get it."

Jerrold shook his head, his green eyes softening a bit as he rubbed the back of his neck disconcertedly. "If you're going to become bitter over this, because of Edward, then you're really not who I thought you were."

"Because I'm upset over the fact that it was a lie, suddenly I'm a terrible person? You don't understand. I relied on them to get me through times when I was completely hopeless. I was fooling myself! So I ought to be like her, then, and just bury my head in the sand? Will that make you proud of me, Jerrold? Will you love me then?"

I had no idea of what I was saying until it came out of my mouth. I thought to be embarrassed or flustered, or even to flee the Old Palace, but I was far too furious to be any of those things.

"Jerrold, you can't possibly understand! Don't treat me like a villain because I'm disillusioned about them."

"They're human! They were just people, Rosalie! They're not the angels you made them out to be in your dreams, but they're not demons either! They're just like you and I. We're not perfect. But that doesn't matter. You don't know that things didn't get better. Maybe they worked through it. Even if they didn't..."

I hugged myself pathetically. He was right, but that didn't make it any less difficult. "They were supposed to be perfect. They had to keep me going."

"They did, didn't they? But you don't need them to do that anymore," Jerrold replied, with strength and certainty in his voice. I looked to him for a moment, sensing some odd difference in the way that he was speaking and looking at me. I couldn't put my finger on it, though.

"I might. You never know. Things happen, and-"

"I'll be there. I promise you that much."

I shook my head. "I know, I know. I needed them, too! You were there, but it wasn't always enough! And then there were times when you couldn't be there; there'll be times when you can't be there! What about those times?" I laughed meekly. "I can't even bring myself through anything. What on earth is the matter with me?"

Jerrold ignored me. "Things are different now. Even if I can't be there- It's just different. Rosalie, I have to say something. Apparently, it's been a long time coming. Rosalie, I-"

Some impulse caused me to jump to my feet instantly. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest and my head was throbbing. Everything within me seemed to say 'Not now'. My mind raced to find some worthy excuse to stop him, but I knew that the only way was to tell him the truth.

"When did you... decide that?"

Jerrold was evidently taken aback. "I didn't really decide it, to be honest. I realized it. At the ball, even though it was stupid, I got jealous of... You understand. I don't know the exact moment. I just thought I ought to tell you. I thought it would be welcome. I didn't know-"

"It is welcome. Just not today. Even... If you were to tell me Jerrold, I imagine I would tell you that I felt- that I feel the same way. But today is a terrible day. I don't want to tell our-" I paused, completely mortified. I couldn't even let him say that he loved me, and yet I was already planning the stories to tell our children! He only seemed bemused.

"I don't want it to be on the worst day of my life. Any other day would be lovely. I know it would. Not today. I don't think I'm ready yet. I only just realized it. I suppose I'm a fool. I'm sorry. I want to have renewed faith in- it before you tell me. If you change your mind-"

Jerrold chuckled, grinning brilliantly. I can't imagine how my pathetic response could have possibly made him happy, but it seemed to do the trick. "Change my mind? Are you joking?"

"If you were to change it, I don't think I'd blame you. I'd be heartbroken, certainly, but-" I sniffled a bit, looking at him shyly. He was still grinning, so I smiled back, giving a nervous laugh. "Well, that went off without a hitch, didn't it?"

"It didn't go exactly as planned, but it'll suffice. I can live knowing that you would have said it back. That you will say it back. And that you're not secretly in love with Devlin."

"Devlin? Can you see me professing love for him? Under any circumstances? Never! That's almost like me worrying that you loved Calantha or something." Which I had. Not that I would ever tell him that.

"Well... I don't know. You can never tell with these sorts of things! I mean, I never really thought it was true, but it was just the sort of thing you imagine when you think of bad scenarios... But you-"

"What about my present?" I interrupted.

"Thankless much? I don't have a literal present. Unless you like the hat, in which case it's yours. I found it in some old wardrobe. I cannot imagine how I ever survived without that hat. It's a gorgeous specimen. For the record, I was looking for the secret passage, but of course, it wasn't nearly as fun without you there. It's just as well. I got the hat, and that's really worth more than all the secret passages in the world put together, don't you think?" I shook my head, and he glared at me.

"Your 'present' will be given to you at a later date, when it isn't the worst day of your life."

I put the catastrophe of a hat on my head and wrinkled my nose. "I adore my hat. Spider-webs and all."

"It looks phenomenal. It was made for your head." He leaned over and set the hat straight, looking me straight in the eyes.

I felt compelled to tell him of my earlier self-doubt. I wanted to be honest with him if he was to love me; especially after the day's occurrences. It would never be like that for Jerrold and me. I felt some odd stirring in my stomach, far different than the earlier clenching. It was odd, thinking about Jerrold and I without revulsion. I was even hopeful about it.

"I was going to give up," I started, "I considered it, at least. I was going to let him win. Can you imagine? Even if I'm still a bit angry at them- I don't hate them, mind you- I can't believe that it ever crossed my mind to give up and leave. It's the principle of it! Him! Running my manor! I can't even-"

"See? It's already working."

"What?"

He gave a smug smile. "I said that I would help you through. Well... haven't I?"

I leaned against the bannister and narrowed my eyes at him. "A bit smug, aren't we? I never said that it was all better. It will never be what it was. I'll forgive them certainly, but... It's a terrible feeling, having a dream smashed. It helps, though, to have something real to lean on."

Jerrold gave a sage nod. "Exactly. That's what I meant."

"Well..." I took off my hat and twisted it, caught in yet another odd mix of emotions. I suppose it is possible to feel devastated and completely hopeful at once. "I need to go think."

"You do far too much of that. How about a slide for old time's sake?" He ran his hand over the bannister and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"No. Not today... Maybe that day. Today's too terrible for anything good, remember?"

Jerrold nodded comprehensively, and bent to give me a kiss on the forehead. "I would kill him, if I could," he swore determinedly, tilting my face towards his to look me seriously in the eyes. "I don't want you to think that I don't blame him for hurting you. I won't forget it. Ever. I promise you, he'll get what he deserves. Even if I don't have a hand in it, I know that he'll get that at the very least."

I tried to give a convinced nod, but I somehow doubted that. He seemed almost unbeatable, mostly because he cared for nothing but monetary gain. How can you hurt a man who cares for nothing but that? I suppose all I had to do (as if it were so easy) was remain strong until I became of age. Maybe I could. I could.

"Goodbye Jerrold." I began descending the steps before the sound of his voice stopped me.

"I hope you'll help me to know when that day is. I'm afraid that I'll spoil it again by trying too soon. Which, I must say, would be terribly embarrassing. Then again, the children would find it terribly amusing, I should think."

Jerrold was a fool, utterly and completely. But he saved me. I'm certain that if I hadn't had him, I would have given up on everything. Nothing that would happen; nothing that did happen, could ever change that.

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A/N- I'm getting this out ASAP, so I didn't do my usual hard-core editing. Thank you all my reviewers! I get super nervous before I read your reviews because it means a lot to me. Really. So if you don't like it, please present your criticism in a nice way. Haha. Next time, fairybells, I'll send it to you to give a read-over. I'm just impatient to get this out because you all deserve it!

caronee- Haha... yes, I won't pretend that I'm a master of suspense, because I'm not. I guess the suspense is not so much are they going to get together as why does she end up going. Which may or may not have something to do with Jerrold. BTW: There will be another guy later on. When and who he is... well you'll have to wait and see!

mockingbird84- I hope that you found what Edward did this chapter a little bit more rough. I personally would find that devastating, but I don't know. There will be devastation later on, too. I promise!

And for you romantics NY Yankeegirl (Go Yankees!) and kirstie... enjoy it while they're happy and in love!

To everyone else: Keep reviewing!