Authors Note: Wow, I'm truly surprised at the amount of people who enjoyed this. I thought I'd get slaughtered for so ravaging a classic story. Haha... So here is part II, a couple days early thanks to all the love this fic has gotten.

A number of you have correctly guessed the storyteller's identity... and so the final chapter of this tale will be dedicated to you. I won't name you now, however, since that would ruin the fun (and suspense). :)

Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews. They are really what keep me writing. I hope you all enjoy this next installment as much as the first~

"He can't marry Tyki! I mean, he's not going to, right?" the boy exclaimed.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Why can't he?"

"Doesn't he still love Kanda?" the boy was blushing again, but still quite annoyed.

"Yes, but this is the Prince, you know."

"…then Allen's a liar."

"A liar? Those are some pretty harsh words. Why would you say that?"

"Kanda died only, what, like a year ago, and now Allen's going to marry this prince? I bet he didn't really love Kanda to begin with!"

"I fail to see why you're getting so uptight about all this, but if you want me to stop, I can."

"I didn't say that!"

"Very well. Then how about you keep the interruptions to a minimum, and just enjoy the story?"

"Fine."

"Now, Allen was in fact quite opposed to Prince Tyki's proposition…"

"I'm sorry, I cannot marry you," Allen said, roughly yanking his hand from Tyki's grasp.

"Why ever not?" Tyki asked, obviously confused.

"I have sworn never to love again," Allen explained softly. "I will never love you."

Tyki laughed. "Ha-ha-ha! You think that matters, do you? Oh, Allen, you grow more adorable by the second. How about we make a deal then."

"A deal?"

"Yes. I need a bride so that I can satisfy my father and become king. You will be that bride. In exchange, you will live a glorious life in the palace till the end of your days. You do not have to love me, and I do not love you. Why, you don't even have to look at me past the wedding if it displeases you. How does that sound?"

"Quite tolerable, actually. But I still don't think—"

"Allen Walker, I command you by Royal Order to agree with me. If not, I just might have to kill you. And I would hate to do that. You really are beautiful."

Allen swallowed.

"I'll think about it."

Prince Tyki gave but one day to Allen to consider his offer. Running away was hardly an option: the Prince was an excellent hunter, probably the best in the world. The consequences of being caught would be far worse than death.

So Allen sat for a long while in the stables, Tim by his side, thinking.

"Oh Tim," cried Allen. "What on earth do I do? If I don't marry the Prince, I'll die! And if I do marry him… well, I don't love him…and Kanda…"

Tim made a huffing noise and nudged Allen's head.

"I know he's dead, Tim, but I still feel so vile for even considering this…"

Tim whined.

"Kanda wouldn't want me to die? Ha-ha, but would he say the same if he knew what I had to do to stay alive?"

Allen did not sleep or eat that day. He remained curled in the stables until Prince Tyki's guard came to fetch him the next morning. Allen gathered himself, dusted the hay off his clothes and prepared to give his answer.

"I do not love you," he restated, "and I never will. But…I will marry you."

Allen's heart (what was left of it) broke as he spoke those words; and as Prince Tyki smiled in front of him, jumped off his horse to clasp his hands, Allen was imagining Kanda's face, imagining that voice so hurt, so angry, imagining those eyes looking at him asking what have you done…

"Allen, darling, why ever are you crying?" Tyki asked, surprised. "I'm not all that bad, promise."

"S-Sorry," Allen wiped his tears with his sleeve. "I just… I'm a horrible person…I…"

"Well, at least you've got a pretty face. Don't ruin it with tears, now." Tyki patted his head. "I'll come for you in the morning."

That night was the worst night in Allen's life since Kanda's death. (You wouldn't believe how many tears are in a pair of truly devastated human eyes.) When Tyki arrived in the morn, Allen's liquid silver eyes looked more like faded steel. The difference, you might think, was minor- but even Prince Tyki, who was for the most part blinded by the perfection in Allen's features, noticed something was different.

"Slept badly, did you?" he asked casually as a guard draped a cloak of deep blue velvet over Allen's shoulders.

"Why do you ask?" Allen's voice was feather-light, almost as though something had sucked the air out of his lungs a moment before he spoke.

"Your eyes," Tyki explained, staring deep into his bride-to-be's face, "are rather tired looking. Do take care to sleep well at the palace. Wouldn't want you to look anything less than perfect for the wedding, you know."

"Of course not," Allen agreed tonelessly.

Prince Tyki placed two hands on Allen's waist and lifted him to sit at the front of the saddle on the black stallion. Tyki held the reins on either side of Allen's small frame and leaned in close so that Allen's back was right against the Prince's chest.

"It's not an awfully long ride, but do speak up if you're at all uncomfortable," Prince Tyki was suave and all lust as he whispered the words in Allen's ear.

"Of course," Allen agreed, closing his eyes as he felt Tyki's warm breath on his neck. Tyki smelled of elegance, of power, of expensive musk and silk.

Allen held his breath and kept his eyes closed and remembered a time when the arms that held him were not clothed in fine muslin, but in dry cotton…when long, black hair got tangled up in his questing fingers…when everything around him smelled like sweat and earth and spice…

He hoped Kanda would forgive him.

The assembly that met Allen Walker at the palace was nothing short of extravagant, breathtaking and suffocating. Everyone was decked in rich linen: the women in flowing gowns encrusted with jewels, the men in all their knightly splendor. Allen felt incredibly out of place; the velvet cloak he had been given was the only thing that seemed to belong. He wrapped it tighter around himself and willed the floor to swallow him (what a clever use of foreshadowing here, because later—ah, I'm getting ahead of myself, sorry).

Tyki's arm snaked around his waist and chained him to reality. The Prince was completely at ease among the nobility, and Allen found it just the slightest bit strange that no one appeared to have an opposition to his being a boy bride.

And then he caught the fiery, furious eyes of one young woman at the same time Tyki saw them as well. Silently, the Prince held the woman's gaze until her eyes were terror-filled and teary. She ran off stumbling.

It would seem no one questioned Tyki for a reason.

"Tyki," a high-pitched voice called through the crowd, "I've been dying to meet this Allen of yours. Where is he?"

The sea of people parted as a petite young woman in a lacy white frock made her entrance. Her hair was a peculiar shade of black – almost purple – and she wore it in short spikes. Her dress too was short, about knee-length, and so she would have stood out from the others even without the delicate golden crown she wore atop her head.

"Rhode, I figured you would be the first. Allen, this is my cousin, Princess Rhode Camelot."

"Camelot?" Allen repeated. "As in the family who has ruled for the past decade?"

Rhode giggled and offered Allen a dainty hand.

"The very same. I'm the only heir left in that line though. My father is ill and I am too young to replace him, so Tyki gets the burden instead. Which is most agreeable with me; ruling was never a desire of mine." She smiled and patted Allen's cheek. "Enough about me. You're so pretty, Allen," she cooed. "Tyki was raving about your beauty for the last few days, but I thought he was exaggerating as usual…obviously not," Rhode laughed. "What a catch. How ever did you get him to consent, Tyki?"

"I have my ways," Tyki said easily, putting his hands on Allen's shoulders and maneuvering him away. "We shall see you at dinner, Rhode, Allen has to meet everyone else too, you know."

"Oh, what a bother. Goodbye Allen," she waved, and Allen waved back despite the uneasiness in his stomach. A strange girl, for sure.

"You two are close," he commented after Tyki and he were out of the entrance hall.

"You noticed?"

"It's a bit obvious."

"You're more than a bit sharp. Come, it's time to meet the King."

"Your uncle?"

"Unfortunately." Tyki led him past two great oak doors and into what Allen assumed was the throne room. There, at the end of the plush carpet, in a throne wrought entirely of gold, sat the old king.

"King Cyril, I've brought my bride-to-be," the Prince announced. "Allen Walker."

"Quite a looker ain't he?" King Cyril declared after a moment of scrutiny. "How you managed to catch such a pretty little bird is beyond me!" He chuckled before lapsing into a coughing fit.

Tyki rolled his eyes.

"You and your daughter are disturbingly alike, Uncle."

"Oh, you met my darling Rhode then, did you?" Cyril was suddenly full of life. He lunged forward and held Allen's hands. "Isn't she marvelous?"

"Y-Yes, quite," Allen answered, mildly fearful.

Tyki pulled Allen away, and for once Allen was thankful for the Prince's presence.

"Calm down Uncle, you don't want to exert your heart more than necessary. It has only a pittance of beats left, why waste them?"

They left the throne room with Cyril still chortling behind them. Tyki led Allen through a maze of hallways and passages, stopping in the middle of one for no apparent reason. A moment later, somehow having escaped Allen's eyes, a burly man emerged from the shadows as though he were made of naught but darkness and air.

"Ah, Count Boric," Tyki greeted. "How goes the keeping of the Zoo?"

"Well," was the curt answer.

"You have a zoo?" Allen queried.

"Not the kind you're thinking of, darling," Tyki grinned. "I use it for hunting purposes."

Count Boric grunted and Tyki's expression changed slightly to a shady kind of mysterious.

"Come along then Allen, I'll take you to your quarters so you can rest. Count Boric and I have matters to discuss. I shall send Rhode to summon you for dinner."

And what else could Allen say but a quiet, "Yes."

"This is almost depressing. I thought fairytales were supposed to be happy?" the boy complained.

"You haven't read any by the Brothers Grimm, have you?" the man asked with a chuckle.

"I don't like Tyki."

"Really? How interesting. And do you still hate Allen too?"

"…I never said I hated him. But I still think he's a jerk."

"Hmm. You know what I think?"

"What?"

"That you should zip it and let me finish."

"I hope it gets better," the boy grumbled.

"Only one way to find out," replied the man. "Tyki left Allen in his quarters, which though luxurious, were very different from home. Allen never got used to them, even after much time had passed."

A year had gone by since Allen's engagement to the Prince, and now a date for the wedding was finally set. One month- Allen had one month of living left.

For you see, the guilt had so eaten away at poor, beautiful Allen's soul that he was quite prepared to commit the sin of suicide after the wedding.

Unbeknownst to him, however, was a deceitful plan with similar results concocted by Count Boric and the Prince himself…

Perhaps now would be an apt time to discuss the Precipice of War that the families of Camelot-Mikk and Cross-Theodore teetered over. All in merry England, these four families (well, two if you count the fact that they're related) had battled for land since the first Roman roads were built. Over the decade in which the Camelot's, the more diplomatic side of the family, had ruled, a truce, however uneasy, had been reached betwixt the families. The Cross's and Theodore's had control over the northern lands, which somewhat satisfied them, but the peasants of bordering towns and counties grew restless. Prince Tyki Mikk too, grew tired of the peace. It would not take much to start a war.

A tragic tale, he and his faithful if slow, Count composed: the bride of the beloved Prince, kidnapped and killed by the Cross family barbarians from the north. It would engender fury, violence, hatred, a thirst for revenge…

And he, the noble, heartbroken Prince would be at the frontal assault. He would deal the ending blow to that infuriatingly stuck up Marian Cross who dared taunt him…would run him through with his blade, laugh at his dying scream and then rule over the entire country with an iron fist…

Oh, and he'd shed a few tears for propriety's sake too, of course.

Two plans were thus formulated…but which would come to pass? Either way it seemed that poor, cursed Allen Walker was doomed to die.

"Allen's not really going to die, is he?"

The man resisted the urge to laugh. "I thought you said he was a jerk?"

"Yeah, but he's the only hero left in the story, so he can't die."

"Your logic is quite flawed. I'd suggest you work on that. I recommend some of the Greek philosophers."

"This is a fairytale, logic doesn't apply- that's what you told me." The boy retorted.

"Touché. But didn't I also tell you that this one is very real?"

"You can't expect me to believe this happened, right? The families in England were the Tudors, the—"

"If you'd like me to switch to a biography on Henry VIII, I can."

"Don't put words in my mouth, jeez! I was just asking if Allen was going to die! Can't you give me a simple answer?"

"How about I keep on going instead?"

"Ugh, fine."

"Now, let's talk about Allen some, shall we? Since you seem so interested in his fate."

Were it not for the sorrow that constantly gnawed at his heart, life in the palace may have been enjoyable to Allen. For example, should he have woken up to Kanda's grumpy pout in the morning over breakfast, or better yet, woken up in Kanda's arms…or say, had Kanda been the one he took customary morning walks with, had tea time with, sank into the covers with after dinner… life would have been quite peachy.

Allen had requested (required, more like) that Tim be allowed to accompany him, and as he was the darling bride of a dear Prince, any wish of his was hardly to be denied. So Allen was free to take his usual ride in the mornings, afternoons, and if he could get away in the evenings, then too (any time away from the palace was desirable to Allen, you see; he wasn't much fond of the royal family, and Tyki reminded him too much of things he didn't want to acknowledge). He was very habitual about these rides: he left at precisely nine o'clock after breakfast, returned at half past twelve for lunch, left again at ten minutes past three and returned at five o'clock sharp, and perhaps went for a quick canter around the grounds at seven thirty.

The ride usually consisted of a trot about the circumference of the castle, and then further out into the open fields and pastures in the surrounding land before merging onto woody trails that weaved within the outskirts of the palace grounds and the bordering town. These trails were followed by a decent sized river that led to a rather large one; and this river happened to lead straight into the heart of the land controlled by the Duke Marian Cross.

Allen, of course, cared hardly at all for the angst and squabble of the relationship between families of importance; besides, from what he knew of Cross, he was almost happier to be living with the Camelots.

Another interesting thing of this river: it was infested with strange, vicious creatures known to the populace as Shrieking Eels. I assure you the name is quite fitting, and should induce the proper amount of horror. These eels do in fact shriek, especially at the scent of blood, and it so happens that they are quite fond of human blood. (It's very sweet, apparently, with all the glucose.)

Now, I mention this river with purpose, for it was by this river that Allen Walker was riding past when a strange group of people stopped him.

"Is something the matter?" the beautiful boy asked, slowing Tim to a halt before a tall, thin woman with blonde hair streaked unevenly with black, who was accompanied by a dark-skinned, bald giant and a hooded, shorter man with messy brown hair, strange purple markings beneath his eyes, and a large nose.

"Might I ask how far the nearest village is?" the blonde asked in a voice that plainly indicated 'she' was in actuality a man.

"There's none for miles," Allen replied honestly.

"How convenient. That means no one will hear you scream." His face broke into a positively wicked smirk.

Before Allen could open his mouth to say anything, let alone scream, the giant's hand was around his temple and his vision went black.

A/N: Quick note about this chapter... I think I use more repetition of words here than in the previous one... that is intentional, because I've noticed fairytales tend to repeat adjectives a lot when describing the same character. Tell me if it gets annoying though, yeah?

So here's a pretty gimme question: who are the fab three? xD I tried to make it obvious so it's not too much of a cliffhanger.

The next chapter will most likely be my favorite as it introduces a favorite character... those of you who have read the book/watched the movie know who I'm talking about. :)

Thank you once again for all the lovely reviews, they are so inspiring. I'm honored to have such wonderful people read this crap. :3 Feel free to review again, har-har-shameless-har-har.