Summary: A desperate monarch makes a pact with another king that will one day force him to give his headstrong daughter to the king's harsh son. Within the castle walls lay many secrets, including a deadly curse with one year to break. Let the fairytale begin.

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Chapter Three

The journey would take a little less than three weeks, depending on the weather. The capital of Italle, Roame, was in the south and Cecilia would be traveling to Fraanc, primarily by boat. First she would go to the island of Cecily, the island that was named after her grandmother, who was her namesake. From Cecily, they would head straight to Fraanc.

Cecilia loved the ocean. Her younger sister Isobella got positively seasick and longed for land, but Cecilia and her father adored it. Pareis, Cecilia knew, was not near the coast at all, not like Roame.

"Do you have to go, Cecy?" Isobella struggled to sob out her sister's nickname. Her sister was an extremely influential part of her life and the only motherly figure.

"I'm afraid so," Cecilia took her sister's hands in her own. "But we have letters. I shall write you as often as I can, Issy, I promise."

"Promise?" Isobel looked at her with wide eyes, a tear of salty sorrow trailing down her cheek.

"Of course," Cecilia vowed. "Now make sure you keep up with your studies and mind your tutors. Take care of Maria, will you? You two shall both be lonely and must rely on each other for comfort." Maria was Cecilia's mare, whom Issy loved to ride with her sister.

Isobella solemnly nodded before hugging her sister fiercely.

Turning to her father, Cecilia gave him a hug. "Be strong," she whispered. "For Issy."

She felt her father nod and when they pulled back, she said, "I love you, Father. And I shall miss you both dearly."

As the ship left the port, her sister waved to her, her father's hand on her shoulder, until finally, Cecilia and the boat disappeared out of sight.

As soon as Italle was only a speck in the distance, Cecilia turned her attention to the ocean. The waves sloshed around, as if it was soup and the world its bowl. Except this soup was a deep sapphire, filled with fresh marine life. Grinning, Cecilia felt at peace. She loved to travel, especially after spending some years during the war under house arrest. Looking up, the sky was bright, a few clouds scattered here and there.

Wails and cries of seagulls sometimes invaded Cecilia's solitude, but she was too relaxed to care. At one point, dolphins traveled with them, and reveled in Cecilia's laughter and friendliness. She always had a fondness for the dolphins, so much like dogs and horses.

The scent of salt sharpened her senses and Cecilia prayed to the gods for good weather. If they had to send her to live with strangers for a year, she at least deserved that.

Strangers. Thinking of them, Cecilia took deep breaths. At first she had been excited, but with that prince's reaction to her father… she began to be worried. Of course he was not ruler yet, and his mother was a strong woman… but what kind of man was this? From what she gathered he was rude and possessive and altogether intimidating. Which was too bad, she thought. She remembered hearing stories from her father about the little Freench prince who had interrupted his talks with King Maxwil.

"Not only had he failed to go to bed, but he snuck out to the kitchens, eavesdropped on private conversations, and broke a vase all in the span of a few minutes," Cesario re-told, his eyes laughing.

"He sounds rather naughty to me," a young Cecilia frowned. "Was he punished?"

Cesario smiled. "I don't think so," he said. "I could be wrong, of course. I rather liked the little lad. Reminded me of myself."

To think, he was the same man who her father had spoken of so fondly. But now... well. It was evident he had changed. She wondered if the charming little boy he once was was still there.

Tilting her face towards the sun, ignoring the warmth it brought her, she closed her eyes and whispered, "What do you have in store for me?"

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"They're coming, they're coming!" Maids and butlers fluttered about like mosquitoes and, Derek reflected dryly, they were just as annoying. It was the day when everyone was supposed to arrive and although Derek seriously considered feigning sick, he knew his mother wouldn't fall for it, even if her senses weren't as astute as his.

"I'm sure the snobby brats won't be impressed with the place anyway," he scoffed as put his two cents in. "Mentally, they'll be comparing it to their own home. And I bet that they'll be thinking once they marry me—for of course they will, how could they not, for they will be the most intriguing and beautiful woman here—they will take down that portrait of Great-Grandmother Georgette for you cannot have any remnants of women more beautiful than them." He shook his head in disgust and Marguerite was impressed to note that, concerning most aristocratic women, her son was most assuredly correct in his assumptions. But of course she didn't say that. One had to hope for better girls.

Aloud, she replied, "Darling, with that attitude, you have nothing to worry about. Those girls wouldn't marry you if their lives depended on it." This was a lie, but it caused the right effect: reluctantly, Derek wiped off his scowl and straightened up.

Patting his cheek, Marguerite smiled. "That's better, ma chere. Just think, perhaps you'll find someone you'll like after all."

Her back turned and Derek scowled again, feeling that familiar ache in his jaw whenever he was displeased. Find a girl he'd actually like? Highly unlikely. He didn't know why Mother and the Council insisted on this charade. Why could they not accept that he was destined to be alone? He had, after all.

A shriek took place somewhere to his right. "Someone has arrived!"

It was Princess Heidi of Germaine, blond-haired, blue-eyed. Her face was full of razor-sharp edges and her acid tongue was just as deadly. "Hurry up, you simpletons," she snapped to her servants, who brought her many luggage.

Laying perfunctory kisses upon Marguerite's cheeks, she bowed and said with a slight accent, "Your Majesty, I am so honored that you invited me. I am sure that I will have the most delightful time."

With an unimpressed glance at Derek, she reluctantly curtseyed, all the while gazing at the castle. Inferior in every way, she sniffed, both at the prince himself and the castle. Nonetheless, she said, "It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," Derek said stiffly, bowing low, trying to conceal his rolled eyes. He had seen her expression, knew that she was exactly the type of girl he was talking about earlier. He hoped that the others wouldn't be like her. If so, it was going to be a long day, he was sure. Or rather, it was going to be a long year.

After receiving no positive response, Heidi feigned exhaustion and was shown to her chambers, keeping company with her governess, who looked just as manipulative and conceited as her mistress.

The four sisters of a nearby duke arrived next. Florinda, Belinda, Melinda, and Lucinda. Derek was wondering how he'd ever keep their names straight, and then wondered if their mother was an adulteress or their father re-married several times. All four girls looked wildly different: a blonde, a brunette, a red-head and a girl with black hair. And each had different eyes: blue, brown, green, and hazel.

But all were wildly annoying. There was never a time where they were silent. One was always chatting, shrieking, squawking… whatever you wanted to call it. And all this ruckus was about their most perfect and gorgeous cousin, the Countess Keleigh, who had not yet shown.

Bored, Derek was more than relieved when they finally were asked to be shown to their chambers.

Luckily, the next three were much more pleasant. As Eyerlin and Scoughtlyn were geographically near each other, the two princesses came together. The princess from Eyerlin, Fiona, was a shy and timid young girl, with big green eyes and mousey brown hair.

Tessa, Scoughlyn's princess, was her exact opposite. She was tomboyish and strong, with her ruddy complexion, wild waves of amber and a loud voice. Despite their differences, the two girls seemed to be the best of friends. Tessa, he could tell, took an instant disliking to him. This he found amusing and was glad that he wouldn't have to bother with neither her nor Fiona, who looked at him as though he was some kind of dragon from Hell.

The princess from Spainne had the longest name he had ever heard. Ana Maria Angelina Francesca Rosalia Gabriella de San Juan. But, she said, call her Ana. She looked to be calm and collected, something Derek found he liked. Her doe-like dark eyes didn't hurt as well.

Despite this myriad of royalty, Derek knew that none of them were for him. His instincts didn't quite know what to look for when it came to his ideal woman, and he was treading on new ground—his forefathers all had radically imperfect marriages. He was on his own with this one, and was determined not to mess it up. However, things were already proving to be difficult.

But what his instincts did tell him was to be on the look-out, for appearances were deceiving, and someone was hiding something.

And it wasn't just him.


Last edited: 12/24/08