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 Ten
It was one of those moments that seemed to freeze time. An impossible second that could stop flooding water in a stream, stop a bird mid-flight, or a baby in the middle of a wail.
Cecilia's world seemed to freeze, shatter, and then proceed to turn upside down. She did not understand why she was going to touch Derek—he was wild, untamed, and what if he didn't have control over his actions? But her one thought was to try and calm him. Soothe him. Take away that anguished look in his eyes.
Just as her fingertips brushed his snout, the moment was lost and the river of time flowed once again as Derek—wolf Derek—brushed past her and out of the library. The minute that followed could make or break Cecilia. She had two options; stay in the library, safe, away from Derek, or go after him—he who could be wild and severely harm anyone in the ball room… O Dear Lord.
She glanced around the room frantically, wondering if there was, amongst all of this knowledge, something that could help her decide. Her eyes landed on, of all things, a large tapestry that was situated to the right of the fireplace. It was odd how she never noticed it before. Stitched in the cloth was a man, proud and pompous, his eyes the same shade as Derek's. Beside him was a wolf, large, powerful, whose eyes were cold, deadly, and awfully similar to the man's. Gulping, Cecilia debated on what she should do.
But she knew that really, there was no question as to what the right thing was. Bolting out of her stupor, she tore open the library door only to see the beastly Derek standing, patiently, his furry gray body in the direction of the staircase. With his head, he gestured, and Cecilia swore she could see a gleam of humanity in his eyes and a challenging expression on his wolf face.
Straightening her shoulders and giving him a precise nod, Cecilia dutifully followed him. Where you lead, I will follow, the thought ran through her mind. However, instead of traipsing down the staircase, Derek led her beyond that to another hallway. Abruptly he stopped at a door. Turning to face her, he jutted his snout in her direction and stamped his front paw on the ground, indicating she stay there. Disappearing into the room, he reappeared sometime later with a pair of dark breeches and a white dress shirt. Again he turned towards the staircase and this time went down it, and she followed, looking frantically around for any movement.
He led her into a hallway she had never been before, and with only a few torches as their guides, Cecilia crept closer to the massive wolf beside her, wanting his protection. Their path twisted and turned, while Cecilia's mind raced. Would people notice their disappearance? What would they think? Does the Queen know of Derek's condition? What if he never turns back? What if—her thoughts ended as she ran into Derek, who had stopped at the door and whose eyes were scrutinizing her, puzzled.
Flushing, she murmured an apology, wondering if he could understand human language and opened the door. Inside was what dazzled her.
It was apparent that the roses placed on the tables in the ballroom came from here. The room wasn't very large, but it was enough for a mini-garden such as that. It was circular, and the domed ceiling was made entirely of glass so that one could gaze up at the blazing sun, or in their case, the magical night sky. There were only roses. Though the majority was red, the colors varied from white, pink, golden, and yellow… None of them were wilted. All were healthy and vivacious and utterly beautiful.
So engrossed was Cecilia that the faint noise of bones shifting and cracking didn't even catch her attention. When she had turned, she was faced with a shirtless, disheveled Derek, who (in the nick of time) had managed to put on trousers.
Although she was flushing profusely, that did not stop her from facing him. "When… when did you…?"
"Transform back?" He asked casually, as if they were discussing the weather. "Just now, actually. It's much quieter than becoming a wolf, I must say. And a lot less painful as well." He threw the shirt over his head, hiding his surprisingly well-defined muscles. Does he get those from being a wolf? She had to wonder with another blush.
"This room is beautiful," she turned her back to him again as she fingered a red rose, not quite sure what to say. Luckily, he offered her an opening.
"It is peaceful, isn't it? I come in here whenever I transform. It's a secluded area from the castle—hardly anyone can hear my… the transformation. These roses were a gift from the person who put the spell on my family… their scent helps us keep our peace of mind."
"How… how long have you been like this?" She whispered, almost afraid to voice it louder.
"All of my life," he said simply, and she whirled around to face him, watching him watch her.
"Why?"
"Why? I was born with it. My father was born with it. My grandfather was born with it. Ten generations have had The Curse."
"The Curse?"
He gave her an apologetic smile that did nothing to hide the obvious fear and pain in his eyes. "I suppose I should start from the beginning, should I not? It's a rather tragic tale—no happy endings, I'm afraid. But it was justly brought upon us. That I cannot deny.
"My ancestors were cruel tyrants, who were too busy with their own selfish needs to care about their people. They dragged our people into senseless wars, made them pay ridiculous taxes without seeing any of their money coming back to them, and let plagues ravage the country.
"As you know, there are a few races of sorcerers and the like. One of the most powerful of them all, The Enchantress of Light, heard of our family and knew something had to be done. If the royal family continued down their destructive path, Fraanc might have never recovered. One may question why the people didn't rebel, but they were so malnourished and poor they could barely stay alive, let alone take down their monarchs.
"The Enchantress came to my family on one of those gloomy nights—where the wind moaned and the rain fell like a child's tears. She came with a warning that if my family did not change their ways, the gates of hell would be released upon them. Upon uttering the words, she disappeared into thin air.
"That should have thoroughly scared them, but they were foolish and thought she was bluffing. While the magical race was feared, they scoffed, thinking 'It is only one Enchantress. How powerful can she be?'
"A year passed and no changes were made. Another famine swept the country and so many people were dead. The Enchantress came back on another stormy night and my family saw how powerful she truly was.
"When they saw her, they demanded she leave their sight; they did not have the time to trifle with magic. She would not depart and the men began to throw things at her, try and shoot her—but she was magic. Magic could never die.
"With an irritated scowl, she commanded a curse upon the royal family. 'When you unleash your wrath, the people will see how ugly you truly are, inside and out.' Before their eyes, the first painful transformation began. They were life size wolves.
"She lay down her conditions as they looked upon themselves in horror. Only the men in the family would be cursed—she sympathized towards the women, who were as weak and powerless as the peasants themselves when it came to their ruthless husbands. The curse would only be lifted when tranquility filled the countryside of Fraanc and if the ruler could come to peace with himself. If this was achieved by the age of twenty-one, then The Curse would be gone forever. If not, they would live with The Curse for the rest of their lives… and whatever male children they would have The Curse as well. And once the words were said, she left, merely leaving a trail of smoke and centuries of misery in her wake."
Wondering how she could even find her voice, Cecilia asked, "What happened then?"
"My ancestors researched The Curse, trying to find a flaw. It turned out that the specific curse had been placed on only five other families throughout the ages and out of the other cases, only one family broke it. How? Through correcting their mistakes and finding peace within themselves. This peace was, oddly enough, true love, a soul mate referred to as the True One. If the youngest male in the family proved to be a good ruler and was able to find happiness with love, then and only then would the spell be broken.
"In the meantime, rumors had gotten out about The Enchantress and her spells, and my family wanted no one to know the truth. So they fired their staff, replaced them, and moved the entire capital. They've moved it to various places since then, inhabiting castles that were used by smaller lords and later abandoned. To you it sounds strange, and it is, so my family came up with a reasonable half-lie—they moved from place to place to ensure prosperity in the general area. A few decades later, my family was in for another rather nasty shock. The original servants who were employed when the enchantment took place found my ancestors, saying that they could not age, they could not die. The Curse extended to them. If and when it is broken will they be able to die in peace."
Stunned and saddened, Cecilia could only gaze at Derek, who gave her a weak smile that conveyed that his story was not over yet. "My family was full of slow men, I believe," he continued. "It took roughly five generations to undo the damages of the former rulers, and only then were they able to concentrate on transforming themselves."
With a frown, Cecilia wondered aloud, "And what of the women? When they married your forefathers, were they just expected to live with being married to someone who was under this?"
Grimly, Derek nodded. "That is why Fraanc is known for women who, while quite beautiful, are meek and easily manipulated. My forefathers did not have neither the time nor the will to search for their said 'True One'. Therefore, women were chosen who would not breathe a word of The Curse and who obediently carry on the line of sons." Glancing at the girl beside him, he saw she was seething in anger on behalf of the women. "My parents are a special case," he told her. "They were not soul mates, but my father decided, unlike many of his predecessors, to try and make the best of his marriage, especially once he learned that his wife was not the typical subservient woman. Ultimately my parents learned to care for each other but it was too late."
Finally, Cecilia spoke. "So this is why you invited princesses from all over? You're looking for your… True One before…"
"My twenty-first birthday," Derek finished. "Yes, an attempt courtesy of The Council and my mother. They believe that even if I do not find a soul mate among you lovely ladies, at least I will marry one of you and continue the line." Here his features hardened, and a determined glint in his eye came into focus. "But I will tell you the same thing I have told them: I never want my children to have to suffer like I have. I want this to end with me. And if it doesn't… if I do not break it… then I shall never have children at all. Whether they like it or not, this will end with me. I will die childless, heirless if that means saving any of my children from harm. I will name an heir whose blood does not flow through my veins if that means saving my children, my sons, the pain that I have known."
Unsure whether to be horrified or touched at the thought of Derek dying alone due to such a selfless act, Cecilia asked, "But how do you know… what if you find your True One? How would you know that it is truly she?"
She failed to notice how Derek stiffened, "My family thoroughly interrogated the clan who broke The Curse. There is a book… on how one can know if someone is really their True One. I cannot name all of the qualifications by heart, but I once deemed it impossible to find my True One."
"It is not impossible!" Cried Cecilia, unable to lose him to the depression he was forcing upon himself. "She is out there, somewhere, just waiting for you, Derek, I know she is."
He gave her a wry smile, and looked at her now with amusement more than despair. "Think about it, Cecilia," he said calmly. "That is like finding a diamond in rocks, a needle in a haystack. Out of all the girls in the world, somewhere there is my one in a million. What if she is in Greenlin? Chinah? God forbid, Russha? The odds are against me, and I have only six months left to find my True One. And… what if I find her, and she does not care for me?"
Cecilia made a face, as if this was a stupid question. "Oh honestly," she said irritably, "that is the least of your problems."
"Is it?" Grinned Derek charmingly, though she suspected it held a tinge of cynicism. "What are you trying to say, Cecily?"
She smiled a little at the unexpected nickname, but replied evasively, "If you have not reasoned it for yourself, then far be from me to tell you."
Suddenly both could feel the atmosphere; light, playful, and all together rather… magical.
"So you do not hate me then, Cecily?" Derek asked softly.
Her eyes softened looking at him. For all of his faults and his temper, she now understood why he was who he was, and for that, she could never hate him. Besides, when he was looking at her like that and calling her 'Cecily', what else could she say but—"No, of course I don't hate you, Derek."
At her answer, a smile lit up his face, childlike and playful, and it reminded her of a brilliant flower, blooming. "Come," he said, standing. "You must return to the ballroom. I am sure everyone is wondering where you could be."
"Are you not accompanying me?" Cecilia frowned.
He shook his head. "This has happened to me before at parties. Mother tells the guests I am not feeling well or I have urgent business to attend to. I doubt she has given you an excuse however, as she does not know where you have gone. Besides," he looked down, gesturing to his attire. "I am not fit to be seen with one so nicely dressed as you." The clothes that he had gathered were rumpled, and he was barefoot without even a dress coat.
"How am I to return to the ballroom?"
"When you exit the room, go to your right. Follow the hallway and it will lead you to the East Wing. From there, go down the South hallway and you should soon hear the voices of the people. That will guide you back."
Frowning, Cecilia took in the information and then curtseyed to her host. "Thank you," she said softly, turning shy for a moment. Then, into his eyes, she said, "You will be all right, won't you? The transformations do not come…"
"Sporadically?" finished Derek. "No. They come only… only when I lose my temper. But I will be fine. It is better now that I retire for the evening." He prayed that she did not ask why he was so angry, and to his relief, she did not. With a slight bow he watched her leave the room, glancing back shyly over her shoulder before shutting the door.
Derek waited a few moments before exiting the Rose Room himself, so engrossed with his thoughts that he did not see a figure looming in the shadows, watching with cold and horrified eyes.
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A half-hour later found a fully-dressed Derek rummaging through the bookshelf of his room, wading through the books on politics and history and various languages, trying to find…
"Aha!" He shouted, holding up the small, dusty, black book. Cautiously, he opened it, searching through the yellowed, handwritten pages for the one page that held the key to his future…
The author was his great-grandfather, who Derek had learned had the best temper out of all of the males in the family. In his lifetime, once he reached adulthood, King Patrik transformed into wolf-form only five times. King Patrik was the one who tracked down the one clan who broke The Curse and he wanted to know every detail about them, deciding to write an entire book on the subject. And each generation kept it; the symbol of what little hope they had left.
"According to the Gupta family of Indeea, there are five characteristics that are the key to confirming whether or not a young woman is the 'True One'.
-She has seen the man in wolf form and has not shown fear.
-When the young women touches the man in wolf form, the man's mind clears; his mind is no longer a savage blur, and his humanity is in tact. In this stage he will not harm anyone.
-She is entranced by the roses of The Enchantress, whose fragrance mingles with the scent of the man's.
-Other dogs are attracted to her, whether they be wolf or not. They, and other animals, would never harm her as long as she is in the man's territory.
-The man feels complete when he is around her. Not only is he in love with her, but with her he is at peace; he is able to keep his temper more easily and because of her he feels motivated to strive to become a better man.
Paling, Derek knew his thoughts were confirmed. He first suspected it in the library, and then in the Rose Room, but now there was no doubt about it. There was only one woman who fit the description of all of the qualifications.
Cecilia. His True One, his soul mate, was Cecilia.
Last Edited: 2/7/09
