Ned returned from the gardens to find his brothers in their center chamber, waiting.
The room was snug. Safe. Golden. His younger brothers were laughing and pulling on the new boots Mother had just given them.
He felt none of the warmth. None of it. He ached.
"You all right?" Frank asked.
Ned avoided the question.
"You look...tired...?" Joe offered.
Ned cleared his throat.
"Hey, it's time to go!" Tony grinned, opening the magic flagstone with the scepter as he pulled on his second boot.
They were so happy. So innocently happy. So full of abundant hope.
Ned looked each of his eight brothers in the eye. Decided again what he had already decided.
"Yes," he answered. Smiled weakly. "I suppose it is."
~NN~
Nancy - sheltered in the House of Marvin cloak - followed them in the same fashion as the night before. She could have easily slipped into Prince Chet's boat again, but something drew her to the boat at the lead - the boat of the crown prince.
She slipped in, and while the prince's brow furrowed, he made no comment about the added weight. Perhaps he's thinking they should have paid Prince Chet's exclamations more mind, she thought, smiling to herself.
But then Prince Edward muttered to himself: "I didn't think I lost that much strength..."
And the puzzle pieces started clicking together in her mind.
~NN~
He was weakening faster than he had thought.
He could still row himself fine, but there was no mistaking the difference between last night and tonight. It was almost as if another person was in the boat this time. A relatively light person - as in, not one of his well-built, hardy brothers - but still, a person. A twist of fear melted into despair as he thought of his nonexistent options.
How much time did he have left? Could he even make it to the end of the week? Maybe two nights. Maybe tomorrow night would be it.
He was going to have to die.
He just hoped he could die like a would-be king.
~NN~
As Nancy watched a repeat of the dance from last night, she finally decided she was right.
For certain.
Nancy could finally pinpoint the emotion - or the lack thereof - torturing Prince Edward.
That was it.
The crown prince had no hope. Not a drop of it.
Hopelessness, complete and utterly resigned, was written in the firm lines of his face - in the way he walked (like he was carrying something on his shoulders), in the way he had rowed the boat, in the way he didn't even turn to any of his brothers when that fairy queen sauntered over again, an even more triumphant look in her icy smile.
Nancy watched the dance with even more discomfort than the night before.
She found herself edging closer.
And maybe she shouldn't have.
But it bothered her, the way he had given up hope.
It truly bothered her, deep in her soul; and that in itself was startling. She usually could look at the world with interest and enjoyment without...feeling like this. She didn't even know what it was.
It was a pain.
Pity.
It was probably pity.
Yes! Pity.
But still.
She got closer, moving to the music. It was violin music - the type that wrapped around one's heart and made the body move to the heartbeat. It was ironic, she thought, to be surrounded by such gorgeous rhythm while watching that fiendish fairy queen drain the life out the Prince.
The fairy queen and Prince Edward were swaying slower now; slow enough that Nancy could have reached out and touched them.
Which was silly, of course.
That would be a silly thing to do.
Of course.
But, truth be told, something inside her wanted to.
She reached out.
She reached out, and carefully brushed the back of his hand with hers.
Somehow, somehow, it seemed like the most logical thing to do at that moment.
It felt like that was the best thing she could do for him right now.
He couldn't see her, she knew; but she could tell that he felt it, because he bristled. No, no - not bristled. Stiffened. Like he'd been struck by very tiny bolts of lightning.
Then he seemed to relax, just a little. Like something - a small something, but something - stopped hurting inside him.
And she...she felt warm. And despite what was going on, she felt happy.
~NN~
Ned felt something brush his hand.
It was light, gentle - and it had to have been his imagination.
Desperation for comfort.
But somehow, he didn't feel numb anymore. He didn't hurt as much. For just a second, he almost...felt hope. Like, perhaps, he wasn't doomed.
Irrational, dangerous hope.
Which made no sense whatsoever.
The fairy queen must have sensed the shift, because she pulled him a little closer and dragged her nails over his cheek.
"Well," the queen muttered.
"Hmmm?" He tried not to react outwardly to her touch. Inside, he was dying again - fighting to hold on to that feeling of hope.
It was difficult.
But he had to try.
"Queen Deirdre - " he began, but stopped as her nails dug into his cheek so hard they drew blood.
"Uh-uh," she snarled. "It's still 'Your Majesty' to you, Prince. And no, I will not let you go free. Not for any price. Look at my palace! I don't need money; I want you dead. Unless, of course..." she trailed off pointedly, brows arched.
That hope was slipping away from Ned more and more by the second.
"No," he murmured.
~NN~
Nancy saw that witch of a fairy draw blood.
She saw the crown prince's eyes flame and and then flicker with the will to fight.
All right, then. That fairy queen was killing him. How could she stop it?
There had to be a way.
There always was, after all.