A/N: A Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza/Festivus/'Holiday' present. Don't expect it to be very good. I just wanted to put SOMETHING out there for you all. We're reaching the climax here.

Be forewarned: it's EXTREMELY long.

CHAPTER 12

CRASHING DOWN TO EARTH

"And so...?" Marla asked in a breathy whisper, clutching at my hand nervously. "And so he told you he loved you?"

I sighed, my cheeks reddening. Only Marla, with her sweet, persistent prying, could possibly get me to tell of what had happened that blissful night. We were walking through the bustling streets of Frell at my suggestion; she had wanted to know why I was so uncharacteristically happy and I refused to speak at the palace where the risk of Calantha or Devlin eavesdropping was exponentially higher. Even amidst the cacophony of the city, perfectly aware that no one but Marla would hear my story, I was inexplicably nervous. Well, it was explicable; perhaps unreasonably nervous is more apt a term. Some silly, superstitious part of me feared that in attempting to recount the events of that night I would curse the wonderful thing that had happened to me. I suppose it is paranoia more than anything; for so long everything had been going to hell in my life. I didn't want that to happen to Jerrold and I. It couldn't. I wouldn't let it.

"Rosalie! You promised you'd tell!" Marla demanded impertinently. "Remember?! I won't tell you about my secret if you don't spill every detail! And don't think I won't know if you're hiding something. You're very transparent. One can tell whether you're happy or sad in a second's time."

I sent her a wary sidelong glance. "Can 'one' tell when I'm annoyed in a second's time, too?"

"ROSALIE!" Marla whined, arching a disgusted brow at a rather unsavory character that was leering at us as we passed him. "You know, Ian would kill me if he knew I was walking around town without anyone to protect me! The only reason I'm here is because you made a promise. Do you remember what that means? It means you carry through! So talk!"

"Your 'secret' better be good, Marla," I muttered miserably, looking down at the cobbled street sheepishly. "So Jerrold told me that he loved me, 'always'. And it was very lovely and calm and... And we danced there, under the dusky light, and he sang that Ayorthaian song to me. I don't know what it's called or how it goes, but it was so wonderful. The way that his voice sounded and the way that the world was so– Good heavens, this all must sound like a laugh to you."

I ventured to look at her face, expecting her to be suppressing a fit of giggles or smirking derisively. But Marla was blinking furiously, looking almost as if she were trying to repress not laughter but tears. I wasn't sure what to do or why she was getting so emotional so I patted her shoulder awkwardly, offering a meek, sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry?" I asked jokingly, desperate to coax out a smile. "I know it's a rather pathetic story, but you needn't cry on my behalf. I thought it was quite nice, even if it was unceremonious."

Marla glared at me, shrugging my condoling hand off and wiping at her eyes with balled fists. "It is lovely! You haven't any idea how lucky you are. You've got an adoring, handsome prince in love with you. A PRINCE! Do you have any idea... No! No you don't! You never will! I haven't got anyone in love with me. And I never shall. Ian's going to make me marry Devlin and I'm going to be miserable forever."

With that she sat piteously on the back of some peasant's goat cart, burying her face in her hands and sighing plaintively. I grimaced, not quite sure what one could possibly say to lessen the horror of such a situation. The mention of 'Devlin' and 'marriage' in the same sentence was enough to make me want to gag.

"So- err... I guess that's your secret?" I mumbled haplessly, biting my lip. Marla stopped in her crying long enough to send me a thankless expression that I could hardly fault her for. I should have had something more comforting to add than that unintelligent prattle.

I took a seat beside her, stroking her hair mousy brown locks as consolingly as I could. It was rather odd for me; I'd never had any situation that called for comforting someone like that. Or a female friend to comfort, for that matter. But Marla seemed to appreciate it, and after some time her tears abated.

"Oh, Rosalie, I'm sorry I snapped at you! It's just..." She furrowed her brow and finally shrugged in resignation. "I don't know what to do! He asked me to marry him and-"

"Devlin asked you to marry him? You hardly know each other!" I interjected rudely, unable to reign in my disgust. "And why on earth would he do that? He was the one worrying me about how they 'marry girls off' at our age, and suddenly he's done the same to you! He must've known that if he asked Ian's permission, your brother would try to force you to wed! How underhanded of Devlin. I knew he was annoying, but I never thought him unscrupulous!"

Marla bit her lip shamefully, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "He didn't ask Ian for permission. I– in a moment of stupidity that I shall never forgive myself for– told my brother of his proposal. I thought he would agree with me and think it an awful idea. I should have known that Ian would think it the greatest news in the history of Kyrria, or the world for that matter. Devlin is the king's cousin and he does have numerous honorable titles. And now Ian is set upon my acceptance, and he is getting impatient and I'm afraid he will disown me if I say no. And Devlin—ignorant fool that he is—told King Charmont and Queen Eleanor of the possibility of an engagement and... And now I will have to hide from them for the rest of my life!"

I wanted to slap Devlin for being so incredibly dense. I knew it was not his fault that he lacked the mental capacity to be anything more than a dry, humorless idiot. Still, that dolt deserves to be taught a lesson... I studied Marla's hopeless expression and realized, selfishly, how lucky I was. The idea of being bound to someone in something as permanent as marriage without loving them implicitly was distressing. Devlin, who was pragmatic and simplistic about everything, surely knew that marrying Marla would bring neither any happiness. Unless he loved her, in which case he might be silly enough to think he'd be happy just to have her. Devlin, you idiot! I wanted to scream. Unrequited love is infinitely worse than no love at all! If my parents' ill-fated romance had taught me anything, it was that.

"When did this happen? How did he go about it?" I asked, hoarsely, the whole scenario still incredibly bizarre. "Where were you? I-- I could ring his neck, I swear..."

Marla gave me a half-hearted, appreciative smile. "Believe me: that would save me a lot of grief. We were walking through the palace grounds, talking about nothing in particular. No... We were talking about you and Jerrold, actually. And all of a sudden he turned to me and asked me why we shouldn't marry. And I laughed because I thought he was joking, though I suppose that was silly as he's not capable of humor. Devlin pressed on, trying to rationalize it. 'We might as well marry each other, because we may not ever find our soul mates, if those even exist.' And then he said that I'd probably end up marrying some old man anyways so I should marry him to avoid that fate."

She laughed throatily, looking to me with a miserable attempt at cheer. " 'I have a lot of money, so that should please you' he said, in that deadpan tone of his. I would have laughed if I hadn't been on the verge of tears!"

I smiled empathetically, shaking my head in horror. "Yes, I do think I can imagine him saying that. He never was very subtle, was he?"

Marla giggled shakily, a (possibly) mirthful tear slipping down her face. "Oh, you think that's bad?" She assumed an impassive expression, imitating Devlin, and proceeded in a serious, humorless voice. " 'And neither of us is very handsome, so why should we wait-- probably in vain-- for some great romance that may never come?' "

"That's awful! He can speak for himself; I think you are very pretty, Marla!" I shrieked. That anyone would mention any perceived physical inadequacies of their partner in a proposal was alarming.

"The worst part is that I actually considered it for a moment. You're kind, Rosalie, but Devlin is right; I'm not particularly pretty. It would be an advantageous marriage, too. And even if Devlin doesn't do it on purpose, he makes me laugh. So, I thought that maybe he had a point and-"

"You're joking," I demanded brashly. I ignored the irritated look of the peasant whose cart we were sitting on (though I realized how rude we were) and tried to get Marla to look at me. "Remember when we were laughing in horror about the whole thing? Let's try to get back to that place."

She shook her head. "I wasn't finished. I was considering it until I saw the King and Queen. I was returning to the palace after telling Devlin I'd consider it. I saw them in the garden. They didn't know that I was there, and I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but I just– They were there together, just walking. And King Charmont looked so low-spirited and Eleanor just smiled at him and he looked back at her. And he wasn't happy or even reassured, but the look was just... I don't know. My father never looked at my mother that way. No one ever looked at me that way, and the thought that no one ever would suddenly became unbearable."

I said nothing, my chest clenching strangely and disconcertingly. Marla sent me an easy smile, waving her hand as if to negate all she said.

"I'm sure it's just a passing fancy. Not everyone can have that; I know as much. I think there are only certain lucky people that get to have that sort of thing. Maybe I'm one of them and I don't even know it." She sighed and adjusted her seating on the cart, ignorant of the peasant glaring at us impatiently. "But how long are you to wait before you give up and resign yourself to reality?"

"I don't know," I replied forlornly. "I don't know." For some reason, I felt restive at the thought of all this talk of love and marriage. I knew that I had Jerrold and that he loved me, but... Here I was, doing this again. I didn't have anything to complain of! I had Jerrold, and he looked at me (I imagine) in the same way as Char looked at Ella. But the way Marla spoke of it all with that sparkling look in her eyes worried me.

"What if love can't fix everything? In my mind I've made it seem so infallible, but nothing can be that perfect. It can't be," I mumbled, fidgeting with my dress anxiously. "What if it isn't as great as they make it out to be, or as it feels at that-"

"Are you joking? Or are you trying to make me feel better? Or are you trying to get me to reconsider Devlin? Because I know you can't honestly be serious." Marla sprung onto her feet when she realized the answer, her mouth agape in horror. "You are! Oh Rosalie, are you so morbid that you've got to second-guess what you have? The, might I add, wonderful thing you have. You'll spoil a good thing by thinking too much!"

"Things can't possibly remain as marvelous as they were that night. It's the sort of thing that you just know happens once in your life," I tried desperately to explain, paling slightly. "I don't mean to say that things will never be good again—or even wonderful again. But how can they ever match that one night? And things are going to get harder and–"

"You have such little faith in Jerrold and yourself?" Marla asked, her eyes wide with innocent horror. "Maybe it won't be perfect ever again, but it'll be there, won't it? Do you really expect things to be perfect? When is life ever perfect?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I do have faith in Jerrold; I've far more faith in him than I do in myself. But what if he can't–" I swallowed my words, unsure as to what I was saying or why. Was I really doing this? Doubting the one thing upon which the rest of my life hinged? This entire thing was Edward's fault. He had instilled in me this irrational distrust in everything good that happens, and now that doubt was threatening what Edward himself could not touch.

I can control my incertitude. He is powerless. Edward is powerless. I repeated the mantra in my head encouragingly, mustering a smile at last.

"You're right. I'll ruin us sooner than anything else will. Nothing is perfect, but I'm lucky. I know that."

Marla seemed reassured, glancing down at her hands timorously. "Well, don't gloat too much to me. I've still got a possible engagement with my dear, charismatic Devlin to worry about." She stopped with feigned rumination, her eyes mischievous. "Who knows? Perhaps I will grow to love him as much as you love Jerrold and we will all live happily ever after!"

Happily ever after. I nodded gaily, though my mind was still weighed down with superfluous worries. Or at least I willed them to be superfluous so that I could enjoy my happiness. After the revelation of Jerrold's love for me, everything was meant to fall into place. As far as I could see, it had. I had power over both Edward and Calantha; Jerrold had given me the strength and opportunity to weather any of their schemes or insults. But both opponents seemed heedless of my newfound confidence. They smiled their secretive smiles, both aware of some profound and marvelous secret that would dispose of me and give them the opportunity to realize their respective dreams of wealth and power. That was not paranoia; that I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears.

Jerrold clearly had troubles of his own pressing upon his mind. I had not noticed it that night; I was far too immersed in the enchantment of the moment to notice. But from an objective point of view, there was no denying something was wrong. Besides, it could not be a coincidence that both father and son were downcast and drawn. No, something was most definitely going on.

I had rested all my hopes and dreams on poor Jerrold's shoulders. He was supposed to preserve my spirits through any attempts of Edward to dishearten me. It was not that I doubted Jerrold's devotion to me, but I knew that he was mere human (though in arrogance he might argue to the contrary). How much could he handle before he collapsed under the pressure of my worries and his own? I could help him-- that's the point of love, after all, to help one another-- but it wasn't something that could be forced. I told him everything. Perhaps it was in selfishness that I poured my heart out, knowing he would do his best to help me and lessen my own pain. But I would gladly take on his burdens, too. If only the headstrong fool would think to tell me!

I found myself in the middle of a tumult of lies and secrets, in the midst of many people armed with an all-powerful knowledge that I hadn't the slightest clue of, alone and ignorant. Sure, to Marla I sounded thankless and disloyal, but she didn't see Edward's smile or Jerrold's grimace, or the eerie kindness in Calantha's voice. I wanted to believe she was right; that I was overanalyzing everything, as I always seemed to do. Life was not perfect. But that wasn't what vexed me. What concerned me was that everything was too perfect. Like a false smile, it all looked good and lovely, but there was a contrived air about it that has you at unease.

"We-ell? Are we going to go back to the palace or not?" Marla asked impatiently. "You are being terribly odd, you know. Too quiet. I don't like when people are quiet. My father used to be very quiet. He'd just sit in his study, scrutinizing anyone who came to see him with that unrelenting gaze of his. I was so terrified of him!" She giggled. "Shall we go?"

I smiled tenuously, secretly agonized. It killed me not to know. My entire life, I'd prided myself on being a know-it-all, reading every book that my grasping hands could reach. Yet that hardly helped me now, when even the wisdom of the most brilliant philosophers and poets from all the ages was completely irrelevant.

"Go? Oh, yes... Let's." She nodded at me and started off in a steady gait. I followed my cheerful companion, feeling anything but that.

"That's right, you little brats! Get the hell off my cart!" The elderly peasant hollered, waving a wrinkled fist at us.

Marla looked at me in undignified horror. I just laughed.

Not a moment after we arrived at the palace Marla was most grudgingly dragged away by Ian, who seemed intent upon giving her a good talking to. I stuck my tongue out him as he pulled her away by her wrist. He blinked stupidly at me for a moment before proceeding with a slightly stuporous look on his face. I'm quite convinced that he thought he was hallucinating, which gladdened me immensely. What Ian was doing to poor Marla was inexcusable, after all. He was being just as bad as Edward if not worse. At least Edward never tried to make me marry (probably because he knew that I never would). Still... what is it with men forcing their poor sisters and daughters into miserable arrangements for their own benefit?

I sighed, pondering that very conundrum on a bench in the garden. I was encompassed by an array of vividly colored blossoms of every color and shade on the well-manicured trees and bushes that thrived on the sprawling grounds. The sun was setting behind the massive palace in a triumphant parade of pinks, reds, and oranges, utterly diverting me from my earlier doubts and worries. The world was– for those marvelous few moments– emblazoned with every conceivable hue: a sumptuous feast for my eager eyes to devour. And then the sun was gone and the darkness set in. The world became shrouded in shadow, and every brilliant color that I had so admired became dull and lusterless. Just like that.

I thought to go home, but nothing in me felt compelled to go. Why? For what? Even the chilling breeze could not coerce me. I think the girlish, romantic part of me expected Jerrold to emerge from the shadows. If I could just sit with him for a minute or two, I was certain that my doubts would be assuaged. There was something simultaneously exhilarating and reassuring about just being near to him. It was pathetic. And wonderful all the same. I sighed and glanced around me expectantly. Certainly, at that moment, Jerrold would have some sudden impulse to walk through the garden and...

"I'm mad," I whispered, shivering on that stupid bench in the dark. "Next thing you know I'll be waiting for my fairy godmoth-"

I stopped, allowing myself to smile for a moment. That wasn't far outside of reality at all. Jerrold had a fairy godmother. I searched my mind for something outlandish, but it offered nothing forth.

"Rosalie?"

I looked up quickly, only to find sparkling emerald eyes looking back at me with concern and bemusement. Emerald eyes, I'm sorry to say, that did not belong to Jerrold. Eleanor, with a shawl wrapped about her slender shoulders, studied me carefully.

I felt suddenly and overwhelmingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry I'm sitting on your bench. After dark. When I really have no right to be sitting on your bench." After a moment I remembered to curtsy. "Majesty."

She laughed a forced, high laugh. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Please don't be alarmed. If you'd like, we can designate that bench as yours."

I laughed, too. My laugh was no less contrived than hers. "Thank you, but I really don't need a bench. I just needed to think. And home is... I just need to think. Without Tata or Edward. Just--"

Ella sat beside me, her fingers pulling anxiously at the fringe of her shawl. "Please don't tell me you're worrying about Jerrold."

I smiled one of those idiotic 'What do you mean?' sort of smiles, before deciding that Ella deserved frankness from me. "I am. Not just about him. About lots of things. But primarily him. Why? How did you know?"

She shrugged, not bothering to feign happiness anymore. "Because he's his father, whether he knows it or not. Whether he wants to admit it or not. They're one in the same. Both impossibly stubborn when they put their minds to it. Twenty years of marriage and Char still won't share his troubles without a fight. Call it nobility or stupidity. I don't know."

I frowned into my lap. "Should I be worried? Jerrold always told me everything. Is something wrong with Jerrold? King Charmont? Kyrria?"

All of the above? I– already in a bottomless well of self-pity and pessimism– was certain that nothing but the worst awaited me. Who was I kidding? Of course it will all go to hell in a hand basket! We've gone over this before, stupid girl. You, Rosalie, are indubitably Fate's favorite target.

Ella studied me earnestly for a moment, seemingly searching for words. "I– I-"

She laughed hoarsely and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You have to be brave. I know you're a brave girl, and-"

I shook my head furiously. "No! I don't want to be brave anymore! Just tell me! What is it to be? Has he changed his mind?"

She blinked at me dumbly. "Changed his– changed his mind? Rosalie! Surely you don't think my son is that fickle with his sentiments, do you? He's perhaps the most stalwart man I know. You need not worry in that department. He is enamored. Jerrold is far more than enamored. He is completely and utterly devoted; completely and utterly in love with you."

Something about hearing that from Ella's mouth made me feel pleased and flustered and hopelessly giddy.

"Do you think?" I asked dumbly, trying not to smile like a buffoon.

"I not only think so, I know so," Ella quipped, smiling a genuine, glowing smile. "And if your expression is any indication, I know you know as well."

I bit my lip and shrugged. "I s'pose. I guess I'm just being silly or needy or something. Why else would I need constant affirmation of what I know to be true?"

"Because, perhaps, my son is being inconsiderate?" She laughs and shakes her head. "I would not be terribly surprised. He gets lost in himself sometimes, especially when things…"

"Yes?" I could sense it coming: something significant, something life altering… SOME explanation.

But Ella just frowned at me.

"If I have learned anything in marrying Char… Well, one of the many things that I have learned through marrying Char is that a king's life is not one of simplicity. Certainly we live in luxury, but a good king—and my husband is a very good king—worries constantly over what will become of his kingdom and his people. In his hands are the lives and well being of hundreds of thousands of people! Each decision he makes has enormous ramifications. I help as much as I can… I'd like to think that we're partners in everything. But I know, when it comes down to it, he makes the final decision. It's a lot to bear. Sometimes, I think, it's too much to share. Too much to try to explain."

I wrinkled my nose. "So… I shouldn't try…?"

"SHOULDN'T TRY?!" Ella choked, suddenly laughing hysterically. I stared at her dumbly, ignorant of whatever it was that had her in stitches. After a moment spent catching her breath, she took a seat beside me and sighed sagaciously.

"Do I strike you as the sort who gives up?" The spirited queen questioned with an expectant look in her eyes.

"No: not at all. So I should… pry?" I groaned and threw my hands in the air. "This is ridiculous! I'm not good at prying! I'm not subtle! Certainly you must have some sort of idea of what's wrong. Can't you just tell me?"

"I…" Ella studied me for a moment and, after sighing once again, let her shoulders slump. "King Amédée of Fryth… How do I even begin? There is an area of rich farmland in the southern corner of Kyrria; surely you know of it from your lessons with Master Eldridge. That area--"

"—has been contested between Fryth and Kyrria for centuries," I finished for her, my heart suddenly dropping. "But we defeated Fryth in the 5 Years War ninety years ago! The dispute was settled; the territory is ours! We paid them 10 million KJ's for it, despite the fact that their claims to it were feeble at best. How can King Amédée possibly-- The arrogant bastard!"

"My thoughts exactly," Ella replied belatedly, eyes worried. "But he claims that Kyrria has broken the peace treaty. Two Frythyan soldiers were killed on the border between our countries by a small band of Kyrrian soldiers, which is a breach of the 'complete neutrality' clause. Amédée believes this an act of war. Obviously, they initiated it for the direct purpose of declaring war, but the king has enough to persuade his people that we're the 'evil' ones."

"So diplomatic attempts to settle the dispute will undoubtedly fail," I murmured, feeling close to tears. "There will be a war. And after the peace we've had so long!"

Ella put an arm around me consolingly. "Take heart, Rosalie. Fryth's economy is deteriorating! Why else would they need this region so desperately? Wars take money, and Kyrria has plenty of that. And we have allies. Don't fret. Providence willing, the war will be brief and minimal lives will be lost."

"How can you be so optimistic? And why do you console me? Poor Char! Poor Jerrold! Poor you!" I shrieked frenziedly. "How have you managed to keep this so quiet? We're on the brink of war and the entire country is ignorant!"

I felt like an idiot. Worse than an idiot. A spoiled idiot! There I was, fretting over whether or not Jerrold loved me like a self-involved brat while Kyrria was in danger—actual danger! War! Poor Jerrold had to juggle my idiotic complains about my loutish uncle and the FATE OF AN ENTIRE COUNTRY. How could I be so childish? Jerrold needed me to shut up and help him, as he had always tried to do for me! I would. I would have given up my every worldly possession to feel as if I were of some help to him.

"What can I do?" I snapped before the court linguist/queen could answer my previous question. "I'll do anything. I'll become a spy! I'll fight! I'll become a general! Please. I have to do something. I'll die if I cannot."

Ella shook her head somberly, shivering in the increasing coldness of the night air. I had all but forgotten where we were in the midst of this mind-blowing revelation.

"I fear you can do none of those. For now, we must wait until Amédée declares war or pray that he can somehow be persuaded to reconsider. Elani—the silly goose—has proposed that she marry him," Ella told me wearily, her eyes dancing mischievously nonetheless. "Can you imagine? She's not yet fifteen! I don't doubt the sincerity of her offer, however ridiculous… I only wish you could have heard Jerrold, Drago, and Char's simultaneous sputtering, swearing, and scolding (respectively). All agreed that she would do nothing of the sort, not now or in ten million years. Elani, Mandy, and I—despite the grave subject matter—were laughing for hours at how silly they sounded."

I tried to smile, but found myself flabbergasted. "Elani is certainly something. How brave!"

I doubted very much if I would ever think to offer myself as a token of piece.

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure she had not thought it through. Impetuous is more apt a term… or perhaps idealistic. Of course, she must have known that we would not let her. Still, she is something."

I sighed, my voice wavering as I trembled stupidly. "Where is he? I've got to say something. I know that telling him things will be all right isn't at all productive or helpful, but—Perhaps being with someone who at least knows of it--"

"May help?" Ella finished, clearly doubtful that I could better the situation. "Jerrold is terribly distraught. It might worry him more to know that you're now worried as well."

"Why are you all so selfless? I could hardly give a damn about myself at a moment like this! I would do anything for him to feel better," I declared gallantly, determined that I would find him and do whatever necessary to coax a smile out of him. "Please. Is he here?"

"The menagerie. With the dragon," Ella replied weakly. In the light of the moon—which was now visible low on the horizon—her lovely jewel eyes appeared glossy.

Instinctively and impulsively, I threw my arms about her and buried my head into her shoulder.

"Thank you," I whispered.

The sad thing is that by the time I had reached the menagerie I had lost all my bravery and found myself unable to think of anything worthwhile to say. I was convinced that I was worthless for anything but complaining about my afflictions and myself, and that nothing I could think up would ever be anything near helpful.

But all my self-deprecating thoughts faded away upon seeing Jerrold looking dazed and haggard. I would have rushed to him that moment had Elani and Drago not been there.

"You boys," Elani huffed, leaning against the partition with an indignant scowl. "All you do is sulk. Why don't you enjoy peace while you can? Why don't you go amuse yourself with your little playthings, Drago? I'm certain they've convinced themselves—with the quarter of a brain they possess altogether—that you've quite abandoned them and that they're devastated. Of course they're not, because they don't know you at all."

"They know all I want them to know," was her brother's cool reply. "And that's quite enough. Why don't you bother Jerrold? I'm sure his ladylove is quite overcome with anguish. Poor dear Rosalie, mistreated by the world, and now abandoned by her love…"

Jerrold, who had been studying the dragon pensively, snapped around to face his brother with a fiery expression. "Don't talk about her like that, Drago, or I'll make you wish you hadn't."

I couldn't help but scoff, though not loudly enough to be detected. Drago had oftentimes said worse about me, and what he had said was hardly offensive at all. Jerrold was clearly on edge.

Elani noticed too, and (in true Elani fashion) proceeded to try and make a joke of it.

"I suppose I ought to let the two of you bash each other's brains out, because at least then you'll be far pleasanter to be around," she announced archly. "Come on. You're both miserable, and I can hardly stand it. If you don't stop soon I'll send Amédée a letter offering-"

"Stop with the stupid threats of marrying yourself off," Drago snapped, tossing a stone quite callously at the dragon with a detached smile. "It'd be a blessing to be rid of you."

"It wouldn't. You'd be crushed, Drago," Jerrold ridiculed derisively. "Elani—whether or not you care to admit it—is your best friend in the world. She may not know it, but you do, and so do I."

"Our idiot sister? I think not!" Drago spat, marching up to Jerrold and looking poised to fight.

"I'm not an idiot!" Elani interjected with a pout on her sweet, childish features. "I'm smarter than either of you boors!"

Her brothers ignored her.

Jerrold did his best to remain cool, though it was obvious that he was itching to fight just as much as Drago. I felt it was my duty to Ella and Elani to prevent their family from fracturing further because of the idiocy of 'boys', so I feigned ignorance and walked spiritedly towards them.

"Is something the matter?" I asked brightly, trying my best to make an expression of surprise at the scene before me.

Elani's face instantly lit up. "Rosalie! Thank goodness you're here. Jerrold and Drago were just about to--"

Jerrold flushed and cleared his throat coarsely. "Elani, please. I—I—Hello, Rosalie."

"Jerrold," I replied, nodding towards him amicably as my stomach fluttered. I waited a moment for him to say something back, certain that I did not have the capacity to be the first to speak. He did not say anything, and his eyes wandered towards the dragon almost longingly. As if he had no wish to see me at all. My heart dropped.

"You're both disgusting," Drago muttered with a roll of his gray eyes. "I think I ought to go before I get ill."

"Aww. You're terrible, Drago! They're so cute," Elani sighed, eyes glazing over dreamily. She looked at me with a smile of approval. "I think it's wonderful. It's so lovely."

"That's quite enough, Elani; thank you," Jerrold ordered grimly. "Perhaps Mandy needs you to—It doesn't matter. Go on."

Elani was reluctant. "But I haven't told Calcifer his bedtime story! I always do!"

"He's a dragon. From the depreciatory look in his eyes, I doubt your stupid stories means anything at all to him," he replied caustically, looking darkly to the ground. "Now go!"

Dumbfounded for a moment and heartbroken the next, a very flushed and teary-eyed Elani screamed "You're terrible, Jerrold! I hate you!" and promptly tore off. I watched her for a moment, horrified, and glared at an unsympathetic Jerrold.

"That was cruel of you to say to her," I admonished, quite disgusted with his Drago-like behavior. "Elani is just a girl."

Jerrold did not look at me. "She needs to grow up then. If she's going to run off crying the moment anyone says anything the least bit hurtful to her, she's not going to hold up very well in society. Life is hard. Someone has to teach her."

"I hardly think that was your intent in saying that. I think you were just trying to be mean. Why? Does it make you feel better? Does making your little sister cry really make any of this easier?" I asked throatily and passionately. "This isn't you. You could find a better way to cope with your concern than this-this—imposter Jerrold ever could."

Jerrold scoffed and leaned casually against the railing. "To what are you referri—Oh. Of course. Mother told you. Of course she did. And after I expressly asked her--"

"To keep me in the dark? This is ridiculous! Supposedly you love me--"

"Supposedly?"

"Well, what am I supposed to think? I see so little of you… One day you're professing your love, and the next—only a short time later—you're acting like a complete lout! If you loved me as 'impossibly' as you told me, you would want to tell me this sort of thing," I retorted anxiously. "I tell you nearly everything! Why won't you do the same for me?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it! I don't want this horrible disaster to pollute my one happiness!" He bellowed, causing me to jump back quite a bit in shock. "I don't want to think about Amédée and Fryth and war and death, alright? I don't want to think about how many of my subjects will die because of Amédée's selfishness. I don't want to think about how we shall raise an army or… Damn it all! In short, I hate thinking about it. I don't want to talk about it with you. I don't want to tell you how I'm feeling, because I imagine it's quite apparent that this scares the hell out of me and makes me furious and vengeful. All of which are rather unattractive attributes, don't you agree?"

I could only stare blankly at him. Jerrold, heedless of my reaction or me, pressed on.

"You'll be offended, I'm sure, because you think I'm protecting you. How male of me, right? How damned paternalistic and chauvinistic men are. It'll please you to know, then, that it had not occurred to me once that I was protecting you as much as I was protecting me. That's the truth of it. I wanted, stupidly, to just be able to pretend that things hadn't changed. That you and I could just be—that we could marry and live happily ever after with no obstruction to our joy. But obviously Mother has ruined that, so now you can be party to my misery. What good fortune you have!"

I don't know what prevented me from crying. His tirade was quite insensitive, and I'm sure under any other circumstances I would have burst into tears, called him several mean names in the heat of the moment, and ran out. But I just stood there and mustered my strength, because that's what you must do when you love someone. That's what they said in books, at least. You have to try.

It was moments like that that made me want to avoid the whole business of love in the first place.

"I wanted the same of you, Jerrold," I started shakily. "An escape, right? For me, an escape from my uncle. For you, Kyrria's troubles. But—I think we just need to help each other. We can't hide in our own silly world and forget the rest. You can draw strength from me, just as I have from you. If we were to—I mean--"

I blushed, but forced myself forward. "What would you do if we married, Jerrold? Would you lock me in a tower so that I would never learn of anything awful that was going on? I can promise you that I would be miserable and that I would make you miserable in retaliation."

He stared at me a moment blankly, before a glorious, wonderful, marvelous smirk appeared on his face. "I imagine that would be a rather unpleasant arrangement for us both."

That's Jerrold. My Jerrold.

I could not rejoice in winning him over yet, because he was soon sulking again.

"It's not fixed that easily, Rosalie. One laugh won't make it better," he muttered, ruffling his light brown hair despairingly.

"So I suppose it's better not to laugh at all, then?" I countered, nearing him hesitantly. Perhaps if I could only give his hand a reassuring squeeze, he might relent just a bit…

"I don't know. One moment of reprieve can't salvage the rest, can it?" Jerrold mumbled morosely, edging away from me. "There's not much of a point. I cannot help being in ill spirits about it. So many sleepless nights hardly make me want to spend my days laughing."

"Just how many have you had?" I demanded impertinently. "How many sleepless nights? You must have known about this for some time. Perhaps you've gotten worse news as time progressed, but it has been a while, hasn't it? This is why you were so distracted before you told me you loved me."

"Are you asking me a question or attempting to state facts?" he replied sardonically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter. Yes. I did. I thought at that point that it was avoidable, and that Kyrria could not be touched. Imagine that."

There are few words to describe the degree of frustration that I felt. I knew that he had a much worse lot than I did and that I was probably being selfish (again), but really. It seemed that he was determined not to be cheered at all. I could think of nothing else to do that might help him any. I had tried earnest pleas and attempted silly humor. What else is there?

"Do you want me to go?" I asked tenuously. "I want to help, but I don't know… We can just sit. We don't have to talk about anything. Or--"

"Rosalie…"

I wished I hadn't said that. I could not bear hearing him say that I was of no use. Desperately, I searched my mind for any unsubstantial nonsense to speak of for the sole purpose of delaying those harsh words that I knew were coming.

"Did you hear? I don't know if I'm allowed to say anything, but I know I can trust your silence on the subject. Devlin proposed to Marla," I gabbed stupidly, sounding tremendously like one of Drago's playthings. But I could not risk letting him speak.

"It's terrible, isn't it? She doesn't love him in the least, and though I don't know his feelings for her, I think it's safe to assume that-"

"Rosalie." His eyes were earnest, beseeching. "Please."

My cheeks were undoubtedly a deep shade of crimson as I laughed stupidly in response. "It's not Amédée, is it? It's something else. I can think of dozens of things to talk about besides Fryth. For example, did you know that objects of different masses fall at the same rate? Fascinating, isn't it?"

He continued studying me with those disconcerting emerald eyes.

In a last ditch attempt to prolong the inevitable-- my voice sounding sad and flimsy-- I mumbled, "The weather's been nice, hasn't it?"

His reply took me quite by surprise. Out of nowhere, Jerrold leaned forward and kissed me—quite hard—on my mouth. I stood there for a moment numbly, and before I could even think to react he had recoiled with a shamed look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

"I think you kissed me," I replied, touching my lips nervously. "That was odd."

Jerrold stared at me blankly. "Odd?"

"Yes. A little. You might have told me! I was so surprised that it happened that I could hardly--"

He kissed me. Again. For the split second before his lips touched mine, I had half a mind to inform him that kissing me every two seconds to shut me up was not going to be tolerated. But that was soon enough forgotten. This time was different than the last; better than the last. It was soft and pleasant, and every inch of me tingled effervescently before he pulled away. It was peculiar still, but in an inexplicably nice way.

"I hope that was better than 'odd'," he muttered crossly.

"Well it was before you spoiled it by acting like a child," I retorted, standing akimbo. I tried to ignore the flushing of my face and did my best to look offended. "You know, you really shouldn't just kiss people whenever you feel inclined."

"Of course. You've got a reputation to uphold. What would your innumerable other suitors think if they knew that I'd kissed you for a whole five seconds?" Jerrold replied genially.

"Is five seconds very pathetic?" I asked lightheartedly. "How many girls have you kissed, Jerrold?"

He waved off my question (wisely) and grew solemn. "I apologize. I couldn't help myself."

I rolled my eyes and allowed the sarcasm drip uninhibited from my voice. "Of course. You were captivated by how my eyes shimmered in the moonlight. Quite like sapphires, or the depths of the cerulean sea. Those are rather hackneyed, though. You can do better, I think. Anyways, there was simply no stopping it. I quite understand."

"I knew you would," he replied with a smile. "I, a mere mortal, am nothing to you charms."

I was suddenly more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life. All of a sudden the reality set in that we—Jerrold and I—were not just friends, or silly children professing childish sentiments of attachment. We were adults, dealing with awful things that many adults would never in their lives face.

And there was the getting kissed thing. That was quite momentous by girlish standards, but scarcely as significant as the hope—the fact that Jerrold and I could survive this. It was fact. It had to be.

Emboldened by my hopefulness and resolve, I took his hand in mine. "Fryth doesn't stand a chance. Amédée doesn't scare me. We'll be fine. And I'll always be here. Edward can go to hell. Amédée can go to hell! This is probably the most romantically nonsensical idiocy that will ever escape my mouth, but for your sake I'll say it. Yes: it will severely injure my pride to know that I've joined the ranks of the idealistically stupid romantic heroines, but I'll do it! If it makes you laugh, all the better! As long as we're together--"

"We're going to need help, though," Jerrold interrupted imploringly, looking to his feet with a labored sigh. "Our army—yes, we're richer, but he's got more men. And the army of Fryth is notoriously vicious, and our men are notoriously untrained. We'll need Ayortha's help. Men, generals, supplies even…"

"I don't see the problem. We're allies, aren't we?" I replied naively, wrinkling my nose. I touched a hand to his face and sought out his worried eyes. "Settle down. It's not as if they invade tomorrow, is it? You don't have to agonize every moment of every day! You didn't even let me finish being silly and romantic. Being silly is not far out of the ordinary for me, but being romantic is, and being both at the same time is even MORE SO."

"But I don't want you to—to get too attached," Jerrold mumbled brusquely. "I don't want to see you hurt. I can't."

I pursed my lips and ignored the painful pang in my chest. "Well, Highness, I'm afraid you're far too late to start worrying about that. You probably should have mentioned that before my birthday, or before that dusky night, or before you decided to kiss me. You probably should have detached yourself from me ten years ago—twelve years ago—if you were worried about me getting 'attached'. Because I'm afraid that 'irrevocably cemented' is more apt a phrase than 'attached' is."

"Mother says I should think on the bright side," Jerrold rejoined with a shrug, unresponsive to my heartfelt declaration. "I think that's foolish. If you're guarded—not necessarily pessimistic, but guarded—you've less of a chance of getting disappointed. I've decided that if I accept the possibility of the worst case scenario, I can do my best to avoid its happening."

I furrowed my brows and shivered involuntarily, more than a little bewildered by his behavior. "So… what does that mean, exactly? You're willing to accept the idea of Kyrria losing?!"

He regarded me impassively for a moment. "No. Not that. Never that. Kyrria is first. Kyrria will always come first. Before anyone: you, or me, or even my family. If it ever comes to it, Elani will marry. I won't protest."

"And if she changed her mind, you'd make her?" I whispered gutturally. "You'd ruin her happiness—her chance of ever being happy—for your country?"

Perhaps that was the sign of a remarkable ruler. It was logical, of course, but so cold! So jaded and terrible.

"I'd sooner ruin my own," Jerrold continued, heaving another profound sigh. "Because I love her, and I want to protect her. But I'm not worried for her yet. I worry for you. We've allowed our happiness to depend on one another to such a great extent that if I were to make some grand sacrifice for Kyrria your happiness might be ruined, as well."

"It's a risk one must take for love," I stated nobly, nodding my head resolutely. "A risk I'm willing to take."

"An inevitability, more like. It is an inevitability," he remarked cynically.

I allowed the hurt to show for a moment—I could not help it—but tried to compose myself as best I could. I think I succeeded in putting off the tears for a moment before the salty streams spilled over unabatedly. That I delayed them that long impressed me immensely.

I cried. I felt hollow, drained, and miserable; worse, I think, than I felt when Mother died. It did not even strike me to feel guilty for that, so forlorn was I. Though my mind pleaded desperately for me to run home to hide the extent of my heartache, my quivering legs would not comply. I stood frozen there, just looking through bleary eyes at the dusty ground and his stationary feet.

"Stop," Jerrold ordered tenderly, his voice noticeably pained. "Please stop. For the love of Kyrria, STOP."

I snorted bitterly and wiped at my runny nose with my sleeve.

"Be-because i-it's so ea-easy, right?" I bawled, my words hardly intelligible as the sobs wracked my frame. "Be-ecause it's so-o-o typical tha-aat…"

He hugged me to him then, fiercely, and would not let me go for all my pitiful struggling. I gave up. He smelled like spring—like grass and rain—and I did not want him to let go. I wondered (stupidly; as if such a thing mattered at all) how he managed to smell so wonderful. I wanted to pretend that he was the way he had always been; that he was holding me because he loved me dearly and not because he simply wanted me to stop so that he wouldn't feel bad.

"Shhh. It's alright," Jerrold cooed into my ear, as if I were some inconsolable infant.

I said nothing and stood rigid, hoping that after a moment or two he would notice that my tears had abated (for the time being) and that I no longer wanted to be around him. But he did not let me go. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, and whispered 'It's alright, it's alright' into my ear over and over.

"Why are you--?" I choked out. "What are you--"

"I don't know. I wish I knew. I want to—I don't… But it's so difficult. Harder than I ever thought."

"Why? Why is it so hard? What does all this have to do with you and me?" I beseeched, hugging him back and burying my face into the front of his shirt. "Let's pretend. I'll do it. I'll never mention it again, and it can be like you said. I'll do it. I don't care how ridiculous it is, I will."

"It was dumb of me to think such a thing would ever work," Jerrold replied softly. "I just could not handle it all. But you're braver than I am-"

"I'm not!" I protested vehemently, tearing myself from his arms. "I'm not! Why does everyone think I am?"

"A charade can't last forever, Rosalie," Jerrold said quietly, a crestfallen expression on his handsome face. "You know that."

"I don't understand this! I do understand that you're upset, and that's perfectly justifiable. I just don't know why you're pushing me away. It's not fair! This isn't my fault, and I'm trying very hard to be good about it all. It's hard not to take all those disparaging remarks to heart, you know. I might be an independent damsel, but I'm sensitive—painfully so—and I can't stand the way you're just… playing with me!" I seethed, growing red-faced and furious. "You treat Elani with disrespect, then you treat me with disrespect, then you laugh with me and give me hope, then you shatter it, then you KISS me—TWICE, and then you retreat into your stupid emotional shell once more! And for what? What the hell am I supposed to do? Do you love me or not? Should I go home and never bother you again, or--"

"I can't tell you that it's going to be okay, Rosalie. I can't pretend that you're going to beat Edward, or that Kyrria will beat Fryth, or that we'll live happily ever after just because it's the nice thing to happen. I would love to; I really would. I would love to think that you and I will marry and have ten bookish children, but--"

"Ten?" I interrupted unthinkingly, crossing my arms over my chest. "That's a tad overboard, don't you think?"

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck in concession. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I never pretended to be Prince Charming. I'm not perfect, and I can only handle so much on my plate. I'm sorry if I took it out on you. I can't decide, from one moment to the next, whether I want you to love or hate me. I'm beginning to think the latter will be easier for both of us."

"Why would I ever hate you?" I inquired candidly. "I couldn't. I don't think I'm capable of it."

"I—Princes are not allowed to marry whomever they want. What does it matter? I'm—I must go. I'm tired. You must be as well. Please go home."

I stared at him blankly. His words… Weren't they Calantha's? Close, at least. Painfully similar. All I could do was convince myself that it was a perverse coincidence; Fate attempting to ruin me once again. Of course it was. He was in a foul mood, and he simply couldn't cope with coping at that moment. He did not mean anything by it.

Please. If there is any justice in this world, let this be a coincidence. Let him be mean. Let him be terrible. I don't care. Just don't let him be serious.

"Jerrold?" I begged pathetically. "Can we talk? Please. What did you mean by that? Please tell me."

"Go home," he repeated tersely, turning to walk away from me with stiff posture.

I wasn't about to run after him. I'd attempted to make a fool of myself for love, and my flat-out failure hardly encouraged another go at it. I stood there torpidly, too confused and devastated to even cry.

"Someone told me I was lucky today," I informed the night air and a slumbering Calcifer blankly. " 'You're lucky to have a prince,' she said. Imagine that. Lucky…"

A/N 2: Sorry for the crappiness of this chapter. And yes, Jerrold was a jerk and really indecisive and stupid. You can hate him if you like, but it's not all his fault. We'll see Edward next chapter, and hopefully I'll think of something really mean of him to do ;). For some reason everyone loves when he's mean.

Sorry if you don't like it or it all happened too soon. Please don't be too mean. I worked (kinda, sorta) hard to get this out today.