A/N- This chapter hardly has any Celine/Zuriel action going on. For this, I apologize, but its necessary. There will be oodles in the next chapter ;) And considering I wrote all 4000 something words in this chapter in a few hours, I'm pretty sure I can have the next chapter up by tomorrow. Hopefully ya like it. And hopefully it's cheese free.

Enjoy

Chapter 8

Roland burst out of the doors of his bedchambers and strode down the glitzy hall before him in a noble and frustrated fashion. He could not wrap his mind around how maddening the events over the past four weeks had been. He had not known that every one of his guards had been absolutely mental. And if he had, he certainly would have prevented his father from hiring the dolts.

He breathed heavily out of anger as he walked. His nostrils flared in and out, and his hair was in a slight disarray, a few of the dark brown strands loose from his pony tail, which rested on the nape of his neck. A few butlers stood up straighter as he passed, and he smirked as they did so. Slacking on the job again... was no one in this land sufficient?!

He brushed through a few halls and large rooms and reached the drawing room, where Celine's father sat, looking out of place in his fancy, velveteen suit.

"William" said Roland, addressing him like a child that had just done something very naughty.

William looked up, having been startled out of admiring the crisp gold and white room around him by the sound of Roland's annoyed tone.

"Oh, hello there Roland. I must say I admire the décor of this room. It is simply-"

"O do shut up, William. I am not here for discussion about the way this damned room is decorated, or to discuss the weather or any other trivial thing you may think of. I need your help finding your daughter".

Roland had rolled his eyes as he had cut the old man off. William was trying to play the part of the aristocrat now. Roland could not stand it. It was disgraceful, how much class William lacked and how much money he used to buy class instead. He had been ever since he had fallen into riches again, shortly after his daughter had gone missing. No one knew precisely how the old man had done it, but rumor has it, he found a few jewels that were worth much more than their weight in gold. He had been well taken care of ever since, showering his spoiled daughters with riches and spending vast amounts of money on hunting parties to search for his favorite daughter…

Presently, William was dressed in a pale blue suit, cream colored ruffles sticking out of his sleeves in a way that was more unkempt than fashionable.

"How should we do that?" asked William, his simple way of speech returning.

Roland sighed, as if the answer should be obvious. "Our obsessions with your daughter will far more easily lead us to her whereabouts than hiring the stupid hunters around here. All of the good hunting dogs and their masters have already been hired by the king, though only God knows what the hell he would want with them." Roland's disgust was evident on his face. The king used the dogs to hunt for food to fill his large belly, when he could be loaning them to Roland so that he could find his Celine…

"Anyway, I propose you join me in searching through the forest for Celine. I know most parts have been searched already, but perhaps you will somehow remember the way to this damned castle you mentioned early. Perhaps the girl is there". It was little known that William had been to the castle where Celine most certainly was being held at. The old kook had mentioned it once or twice, and then, most likely due to the embarrassment of not at all remembering where this supposed castle was, he had shut his mouth about it. It was humiliating for Roland to be known to live in the same vicinity as William now, as he had bought a manor not a fourth of a league away from Colne Manor. William could not possibly be a day over fifty-five, yet he could rarely remember what he had eaten for breakfast every morning, let alone the possible whereabouts of his dearest Celine.

"But I love Celine!" said William. Roland shook his head, astounded by the outburst. What in God's name was William on about now? … Ah yes. The comment about him being obsessed with his daughter probably stung him. All the same, it was perfectly true. It was obvious to anyone who peered close enough that William was a lover of his daughter's beauty and physical likeness to her mother, not a lover of his daughter herself. Roland knew this all too well, as he felt quite the same way.

"Fine fine, you love Celine. Now that that is established, will you please proceed to accept my proposal"?

William nodded, obviously satisfied, and seemed to be thinking over Roland's words, while Roland seethed about the many bothersome traits of the older man before him. After a few moments, William agreed, surprised than no one had thought of the idea before. In truth, Roland had been considering doing this for quite some time, but the thought at being alone with William for extended periods of time had prevented him from proposing the idea until this day. It had been a month already, after all.

"Right then" said Roland, his mouth set in a grim, straight line. "Go prepare whatever you need to prepare, and meet me outside the manor at noon. We will begin searching then".

William nodded, and Roland hoped he knew that he meant Colne Manor, and not William's. Ah well, he would know by noon, if the old man showed up or not. He turned on his heels and walked back to his chambers, bored of William's presence already. He mumbled to a nearby staff member to show William out, and then was gone.

Agnes' jaw dropped as she listened to her father announce his news to her and her sister. He truly was mad. The gifts he presented to her and Amelie were truly the only things keeping her here. He was dreadful.

He wanted to search for Celine. She has assumed that her little sister was long forgotten by now, given that it had been weeks since Father had paid the local hunters to search for her. But no. There he stood, blubbering on about how this was a splendid opportunity and it was greatly please him to fine his little Celine again.

"If it so pleases you, Daddy" said Amelie loudly, interrupting William purposefully and sighing rudely as he left the dining hall.

"What could Mother have been thinking when she married him, Agnes, honestly?" asked Amelie, brushing a few dark curls out of her face before chomping into a great piece of roast.

"Mystery" replied Agnes. "No matter. He will hardly find Celine at this point anyhow. It has been… what? Four weeks now? She is as good as dead in my opinion". She snorted and then scooped a large chunk of potato onto her spoon.

There was a long silence in which both sisters chewed away, each not caring what the other was thinking. They stared about the fair-sized room about them, happy to be surrounding by such grandeur again. This manor was a fair bit bigger than the home they lived in before they moved to that damned cottage.

A brass candelabra grace the middle of the mahogany table, though having its candles lit at this time of day was unnecessary. Sunlight fell into the room from all sides through the windows in each wall, and the cushioned chairs that the sisters sat on were soft and brightly colored, and much more comfortable than the little wooden kitchen chairs from the cottage. Yes... luck was theirs once again.

The dresses they had gained as of late were the most excited. All different shades, from pastels to deeper, richer tones filled their closets. Ruffles in every color imaginable, bows, jewels, anything they wants was theirs. This was why they put up with Father's ramblings about their sister. It was worth it in the end.

Their thoughts were as one until Amelie spoke again.

"Do you think she is alright?" she asked suddenly. Her eyes were wide as she asked the question, as if this were a thought she had never before considered.

Agnes paused, spoon near her lips, and turned slowly to Amelie.

"Are you stupid?" she asked finally, and offering no further explanation for her reply, she went back to eating, shaking her head and muttering negatively. Amelie looked up for a moment, contemplating this comment, and then shrugged and went back to her plate, Celine long forgotten. After all, the girl was truly of no benefit to them anymore, was she?

The hunt for Celine began promptly at noon. William had indeed shown up when he said he would, and at the right manor, thanks be to whatever God was watching over them, if there was one at all. Roland already had his horse prepared, as well as a mount for William. The man was strangely attached to his own, older horse, and Roland knew that the beast could not travel nearly as fast as any of his own, more sufficient horses could. He had one of his stable boys heaved William up onto the gray mount, and the two headed for the forest.

William prattled on at first about different parties he had been invited to since becoming one of the upper classes once more. After a sufficient amount of grunts and groans from Roland, due to his annoyance at William's voice, the old man finally stopped, and the two travelled forth in silence.

Roland was not sure how to go about this, precisely. He did know that there was an old witch in the forest. He had heard a pair of village maidens speaking of it a week ago when he had gone to the market to hire yet another set of hunters. They had talked of her in hushed voices, as if they held her in so high a reverence as to speak very carefully about her around others. He had disregarded them until now because he had guessed them to be practicers of the dark arts, and had not the time for their silly disillusions. But now, he was running out of places to turn to, and so it was to the witch's hut that he now headed, William in tow.

He remembered the directions vaguely. He had heard one of the girls mention a forest clearing and a few other details about the whereabouts of the witch. Other than that, he was mostly following his instincts to find her. He was not sure why he expected this to help him find Celine, especially since William was proving to be absolutely no help at all, but desperation for his lust-inspiring future bride made magic seem like not such a strange way of causing her disappearance.

Hours later, shivering and worse for wear, thought Roland would never admit it, they happened upon a little cottage, deeper into the forest the Roland had anticipated.

"Finally" he mumbled to himself, somehow knowing that this was the place he sought. He dismounted, and told William, like a father to a child, to wait outside. William did not protest, most likely due to the strange feeling the place gave him; he would rather not enter it anyways.

Roland knocked on the door, and a crackly woman's voice told him to come in. He raised an eyebrow, feeling as if his governess had read him too many fairytales as a youth. He had always known it was a bad idea… He felt that this entire scenario was all too cliché somehow.

He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot, and looked around for a moment before stepping inside. The cottage was hot, and a fireplace, its flames low and somehow purple-tinted in color, was the source of the heat. His mouth twitched, and he longed to enter the cottage quickly as possible. He felt no remorse for leaving William out in the cold. He ducked under the doorway and stepped into the blazing heat of the hut.

The reason for the low doorway was revealed in but a moment's time. The woman- a witch, Roland assumed was short. He could tell even from her sitting position. She barely reached the table top in front of her.

"O dear Lord" he said softly to himself. This was absurd. What had he been thinking? Coming so far and assuming that somehow this woman could help him find his fiancée. It was preposterous.

The old woman looked up at him, dark eyes shining from the firelight. The cottage was dark, as its windows were closed, but the light source was enough for Roland to tell the looks of the woman. She was no more than five feet in stature, and her hair, more silver than red, fell to her waist in tangled tresses. Her face was wrinkled and leathery, and her nose was crooked with age, but still it was not so hard to tell that she must have been, at one point in time, pretty. He thought so, that is, until the old crone smiled. Her lips parted to reveal rotted teethe, and Roland stepped back for a moment, disturbed at her imperfections.

The smell of the cottage calmed him, though. Minty, it was, and the air smelled of herbs he could not find a name for.

"May I help you" cooed the old woman, polite as any common village merchant. She rose from her seat, setting down a handful of broken animal bones. Or, at least, Roland assumed they were animal bones. Ah, then, she certainly was the witch he had at first taken her for. He had heard, long ago, about some ancient practice of foretelling the future or some such madness through the divination of bone throwing. He sighed and decided to answer her.

"My fiancée is missing. I believe you may be able to assist me in finding her." He spoke curtly, though this did not seem to bother the woman much.

"I know" she said, much to Roland's annoyance.

"Very nice" he said, mocking her subtly, and stepped closer to her to show that her mystic ways did not frighten him at all.

"Now, can you help me or not?"

The witch nodded slowly, creepy smile still in place. "I have many maps, my child, many maps. They can lead you anywhere you wish. I only have to tell them to do so" she said proudly. Roland shook his head skeptically.

"I very much doubt that" he replied.

"Ooooh, do you now? Come here" she instructed. She spoke slowly, as if to force Roland to listen very, very closely to every word she spoke. She beckoned him forth with a gnarled finger, and turned her back to him, knowing he would follow her to the corner of the room.

In the said corner was a series of shelves, filled with curled, yellowing scrolls. The old woman picked one up and held it carefully with two hands. She whispered something to the paper, is if it was actually listening, and made a move to hand it to Roland.

He reached for it quickly, rudely.

She tsked him. "I think not. My payment…" she said coyly. Roland stared her down before reaching into his coat pocket and handing her a dark green sack of heavy coins. She dropped the scroll into his waiting hands and began to count the money in the pouch.

Assuming their strange little meeting was over, Roland began to walk back towards the exit of the cottage.

"Wait!" said the witch. Roland balled his hand into a fist and hit the side of the doorway in annoyance.

"What?!" he replied impatiently.

The witch regarded him for a moment, looking not at all insulted that he was so obviously bothered by her presence. He was in her home, after all.

"She is being held by a beast of a man, my lord…. I do suggest you take one other thing… It will help you kill him. Without it, you will never get your little bride back". Her grin widened as she spoke, as if she had been waiting a long time for this moment.

Roland was about to ignore her proposition when something about the witch's eyes changed his mind…. She was deadly serious. He could tell somehow.

"Very well then".

The woman turned to her right and pulled a black vile from one of her many shelves. Liquid sloshed around inside of it, making Roland uneasy. The damned hag had better not poison him…

"Why would I want to poison you? If I wanted your money that badly, I would cast a spell on you and take it myself, here and now" said the crone smoothly. Roland's eyes widened, his shock evident. Was she a mind reader?

She handed the large glass vile to Roland and ducked back into the shadows until Roland could no longer see her. He observed the potion for a moment and then began, once again, to return to the outside world.

"My payment!" came the woman's voice from the shadows. Roland sneered and tossed another few gold coins on the floor in the direction of her voice, knowing it would be more than enough payment.

The chuckle that sounded from the shadows told him it was enough, and he hastily exited the hut.

"Disturbing old hag" he said to himself. The sound of his voice alerted William.

"Well?" said the old man, leaning forward in his saddle. Roland's own mount pawed the ground nervously.

Roland ignored William and unrolled the scroll he had just purchased. It was indeed a map, and led him from his current location to something called... Zuriel's castle? Roland had never heard of such a name, if indeed a name it be. Ah, well, it mattered not. He felt as if he was growing closer to his goal now. That was all that mattered…

"Come, William, let us return to town. Our business is finished here". Roland would rather not escort Celine's father back to Avilbane, but he knew that William would somehow find a way to become lost if he did not. The man had no sense of direction. Roland assumed Celine had inherited this flaw, and that was how she had ended up in the hands of this… Zuriel, to begin with.

That night Roland returned to the hut. It had taken him nearly a third of the time to reach here as it had initially taken him earlier today. He wished that the map gave him directions from his own home to Zuriel's castle, and not the witch's. Nonetheless, he was, begrudgingly, thankful for what he got.

He set out in the direction that the map told him to, wishing that it was earlier in the day than the present hour. Dusk had fallen long ago, and the moon was but a sliver of light above. Even if it were brighter than it was, the overhead trees would have muted it's brilliance.

There were no paths to guide his way, only the maps directions. He was beginning to lose hope, unsure of whether he was travelling north, or east, when he found it: the castle. If a castle it could be called.

It was enormous. Surely the sight of its magnitude would disgrace the king if he were to ever happen upon this structure. Its tallest spire must have been twice the height of the king's own chateau.

Roland slowed his horse to a stop and slid from the saddle. At first he felt fairly unsafe doing this, given that it was so late in the night, he was in unfamiliar territory, and the witch's warning of the beast that held Celine, which was beginning to feel more and more accurate due to the oddities of this entire situation. Still, he was a man through and through, and he would need to sneak about the castle to find an entrance and seek out Celine. He obviously could not do so on his horse's back. He tied the animal to a tree branch and set forth to the gate that surrounded the back half of the castle.

The gate itself was twice as tall as Roland. It was black, wrought iron, and twisted about at the tops, in curls that reflected the sophistication that was surely hidden on the other side of the walls, within the castle itself.

Roland began to climb the nearest wall, with only a second's hesitation, in which he assessed the quickest way to the top. He lodged his boots between two of the gate's bars and heaved himself up, over and over, little by little, until he reached the top. Once there he flipped himself over the edge and dropped down to the other side. He landed, at first, on his feet, but then momentarily lost his balance and fell to the ground. He caught himself before he hit the soil and crouched down, searching for any signs of late night wanderers in the gardens before him.

Seeing nothing, he crawled slowly forward until he was sure it was safe to walk upright. The smell of roses overwhelmed him, and he found himself waved his hand in front of his face to rid his nose of the smell. He quite disliked it. What the hell kind of a man would surround himself with such feminine plantation? Colne manor was home to few flowers, and it was mostly trees trimmed to perfection and topiary bushes that surrounded it. Not this…

It also struck him a strange that a garden such as this should be so vast and lively, given this autumn's incredibly early and cold temperatures. Every rose petal that Roland could see, in the little light provided for him, was bright, varying in shades of red, pink, and even blues and purples. Odd..

Many of the castle's chandelier's and standing candelabras must still have been lit, for most of the rooms glowed with life from within. Hardly discouraged, but still cautious, Roland looked for the nearest way in. A knife was lodged in his boot, and pressed against his ankle uncomfortably. He needed nothing more to defeat whomever it was that was holding Celine captive. He was skilled in every kind of battle necessary, and had no doubt that he could defeat this man. Besides, the vile from the witch was also hidden within his pocket. He would resort to that if at all necessary- not that it would be.

Vines thick as his arm climbed up much of the castle walls. Roland saw that a good bit of it led to a half circle of gray stone above him. It could be nothing but a balcony. He climbed the vines, which were also littered with roses, and slid over the half wall onto the marble floor that covered the top of the balcony.

Voices sounded softly from within the room off the balcony. Heavy curtains cut off his view of the people within, but he recognized the more feminine of the pair: Celine.

His heart stopped for a moment, as adrenaline took over. He had dreamed of the little wretch's voice for so long now… It was so sweet, so gentle, so begging to be tainted.

Roland wanted to dash into the room and take Celine with him then, but he stopped himself. He could not be seen yet, not until he saw his opponent. He had to be prepared. Very quietly, he crawled over to the curtains and parted them gently. This gave him full view to the room within: a drawing room, by the looks of it. It was shimmering in various places, due to the crystal and marble décor. Odd… for the man that sat next to Celine was surely the owner of this place. He was regal enough for the title of Zuriel. Yet, he did not seem at all to fit into the feminine, magical feel of this place. He was darker than all of this, somehow… His jaw was masculine, his nose straight, and his chest broader than Roland's by half, at least. His stormy eyes were locked onto Celine's like a ravenous predator. Disgusting.

The pale-haired male stroked Celine's face in a way that could almost, in Roland's eyes, be considered loving. But it could not be love that Zuriel was feeling… he was too overpowering, too intimidating, to be capable of an emotion such as love. Celine leaned into the beautiful monster's hand with a sigh, and the very sound made Roland sick to his stomach. He should never have to bear witness to such a display. That sigh, that infatuated look on her face, it was meant for him. Celine was promised to him. How dare the man before him take Celine from him...? Celine was not Zuriel's, she was Roland's.

They had been reading together, apparently, for a heavy book dropped from Celine's lap to the ground, due to Celine's emotion-inspired carelessness. She gasped in surprise and giggled like a proper whore, and leaned forward to pick it up.

Even a man of Roland's pride would know he could not take this man down. Zuriel was larger than him: both in height and in mass. He was well-built, maddeningly so, and Roland knew now he may need the potion the witch had given him.

Reminded of the vile, he pulled it out and uncorked it, curious as to the contents within. Inhaling sharply, he fought back the bile that filled his mouth. It smelled of blood! He had been carrying blood this entire time!

Roland replaced the vile's cork and put it back in his pocket. He was unsure of what to think now. He did not know if he had fallen prey to trickery, or if this was a special kind of concoction that would do all the witch said it would.

Before he could contemplate anything else, a woman's voice- and not Celine's- sounded but feet from where Roland kneeled.

"Milord!" It screamed, though Roland could not place the source.

Everything happened very quickly then. This "Zuriel" was up before Roland could so much as blink, and, without seeing any alternative, Roland leapt over the side of the balcony, terrified of being caught so off guard in such a situation. He needed time to think before he fought this man. Groaning in pain at the impact of the fall, Roland pushed himself up from the bushes he had landed in and ran at an alarming pace for the gates. He was up and over them before anyone from within the castle could guess his whereabouts, and he was on his horse and gone before anyone could think to chase him.