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 Fifteen : Part Two
"I, for one, fully agree with Cesario's statement," came a new voice that echoed across the walls of the small meeting room. The speaker feigned an air of cheerfulness and obedience that made the Itallien king wary. He whirled around his seat, trying to regain control of his senses. "Something does need to be done about the situation. Immediately."
"Where are you, devil child?" Cesario snarled menacingly in reply, causing a few of his fellow monarchs to recoil uncertainly. They had never seen Cesario so unhinged.
"If you opened your eyes for one goddamned second," Derek said calmly, heedless of his mother's earlier warnings of being respectful and courteous to the king, "you would see what was right in front of you. Or should I say, behind?" Cesario wheeled around, seeing Derek emerge from the shadows near the doorway of the room.
"You," he narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Lifting a dark eyebrow, Derek moved closer to the table, giving a deep bow to his elders. "Isn't it obvious?" He said. "First and foremost, I live here. Secondly, you all are my guests, however rude your actions may be in coming here. It is my duty as host to welcome you back and make you feel comfortable. And thirdly, you are discussing me and my future. One would think that I am just slightly inclined to know what is to happen of me." Ignoring several cringes, Derek casually draped himself into the empty seat next to Tristàn.
"Tris," he nodded, his voice never raising, never faltering. "I could make god awful pleasantries, but since you're a decent chap, I'll forgo them and be straight with you. How much of your letter do you believe?" Marguerite stood motionless at the head of the table. How drunk was her son to be acting so recklessly?
Tristàn, for his part, seemed cool and unaffected. "I appreciate the sentiments, Der," he said, his lips twitching slightly at the nickname. "If there is one thing I have learned in being a leader it is that one must gather all of the information before reaching a reasonable conclusion." His eyes flickered briefly to Cesario but the action remained unnoticed by the majority of the group. "I came to this meeting open-minded and I am hoping to leave the same way."
Derek grinned. "I knew I liked you!" He said, and he addressed the rest of the leaders. Although his smile was genuine, his eyes were no longer sparkling. They were serious and ready for battle. If one looked closely enough they could see the slight decline of his right eyebrow, a small frown blossoming. Before he stepped into that room and made his presence known, Derek had thrown caution to the wind. It was better to knock them off balance, see how scared of him they were before launching into the questioning.
"And the rest of you?" Derek wanted to know. "Did you come here as willing and open minded as Tristàn? Or have you all decided that you know all there is to know about me and have come to condemn me?"
No one spoke, not even Cesario. But Derek did not dismiss his beloved's father just yet. "Cesario," he said, and his tone was conversational, borderline respectful. It was as if the two were discussing horse races or some other neutral topic. "There has been something that has been bothering me all day and night."
Cesario snorted. "Your Curse?"
It was the first trickle of genuine humor that had occurred during the meeting. Derek could not help but chuckle slightly, though his defenses were still raised. "That is something that has bothered me all my life," he uttered airily. "But no. What I would like to know, if you could so please divulge the information, is who wrote you the letter of my… condition? I believe they stole something of mine and I would like to know who the little thief is."
The Itallien king hesitated, as if not sure whether he should share that tidbit. But he too decided that he might as well. "It was Lord Adrian," he inclined his head towards Tristàn, "of the region of Magio in Spainne."
"Ahhh," Derek said evenly, although his eyes flashed. "Lord Adrian. I see. Might I peruse the letter he sent you?" Suspiciously, Cesario handed Derek the letter. All eyes were on the young prince as he read the letter, though his facial expressions gave nothing away. Handing the letter back to Cesario wordlessly, Derek brushed off some imaginary lint on his clothing and stood up, addressing the monarchs once more.
"What he says in that letter is absolutely true," said Derek. "Save, of course, Lady Keleigh's affections for me. Begging your pardon, that girl is nothing more but a manipulative snake. Her feelings for me are purely due to my birth right. As for Adrian, he is a jealous cad, only seeing your daughter as an object. I don't recommend you trust him—look how he sneaks about, sending letters instead of confronting me like a real man? Is that the sort of man you want around your daughter?
"So I will be up front with you now; I will not creep around as he did. It's true that I love her," he told Cesario, "and that she is my True One. I will assume you read the book, and she fits all of the criteria stated. She accepts that I am her true love as well. Although I confess that I was rash in the manner of which I sent for her to Fraanc, I do wish you would accept my apologies about the event and allow me to marry your daughter. We would make each other very happy and isn't that all you want, as her father? For her to be happy?"
Everyone considered Derek's words, some more strenuously than others. Emil wore a deep frown. Charles and Julien whispered among themselves, looking incredibly like their vain wives. Liam and Rhiannon looked somewhat approvingly at Derek, while Tristàn chuckled silently at Emil, quite amused at the elder's facial expression.
"There is only one thing more important to me than my daughter's happiness," Cesario said quietly. "And that is her safety. With you around, Prince Derek, I do not believe anyone is safe. As for Adrian, I trust his judgment much more than I could ever trust yours."
Derek narrowed his eyes at the king's rejection of his words. What did he have planned?
"We need to get back to the subject at hand!" Cesario said, addressing everyone but Derek. "We came here to see what to do about this—this—monster! Something needs to be done! And now is not the time to sit the fence, gentlemen. Who agrees?"
Unsurprisingly, Charles and Julien put their hands up, glaring at Derek and Marguerite. Emil also raised his hand, the ever present scowl on his face.
Cesario looked expectantly at the rest of the crowd.
No one else raised their hand.
Rhiannon looked defiantly on at Cesario, her chin thrust out proudly. Liam's visage continued to be calm, but there was a proud glint in his eye that warned not to be pushed. Tristàn, as usual, was the picture of cool and calm but his facial expression told of faint disgust towards the others.
"Ye go too far, Cesario," Liam said quietly. "Ye are thinking of yer own pride and paranoia. If Cecilia marries Derek, ye will not lose her as ye lost Dominique. The Curse will be broken and yer daughter will be safe and happy. By denying Derek from her, only then will ye truly lose her."
Cesario's face flamed at Liam's words. "Do not speak of Dominique," he growled. "And do not speak to me as if I do not know how to love my own child."
Liam held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, but said no more.
"That is your fatal mistake," spat out Rhiannon. "Cecilia will always be your daughter, but she is no longer a child. She is a woman now, one with dreams and love and a future. Who are you to take that away from her?" Her eyes narrowed as she muttered, "Men. Always thinking they know best."
"I know it is hard to let go," Tristàn said quietly, his dark eyes melancholy as he thought of his own parents, dead and buried at sea. "But this is life, Cesario. We must take risks in order to gain. You are trying to protect your daughter from your own heartbreak, but as a parent, as a guardian, we must know when it is time to let them experience the world for themselves. Otherwise, we are doing them a disservice by holding them back."
"Oh cut the sentimental pleas," Emil barked. "I think that Derek is lying. Clearly he and Cesario have an antagonistic relationship. What is the ultimate revenge then marrying his enemy's daughter? I am beginning to think that this Curse will not fade when they are married. He will keep his daughter prisoner like the minotaur in Greece."
"That was centuries ago," hissed Liam, losing some of his cool, but was cut off by Charles.
"Besides that, what kind of message would this send to the public? Daughters would be disobeying their fathers for true love," he spat out, disgusted. "Love is imaginary. A fairy tale told to children."
"At one time you too believed in love, Charles," Marguerite said quietly, her first statement in awhile. "You were the one who fell in love with Cindy instantly."
"It was lust," Charles said, although his eyes were sad for a moment. "But that is beside the point. Daughters need to obey their fathers. And I think Cecilia is acting out in rebellion."
Rhiannon growled menacingly. "So daughters should mind their fathers at all times? Even if a father told her she would be miserable all her life?"
Charles narrowed his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.
"The main point is," Julien said evenly, "that this world is not safe with such a monster in it. I will be forward as well; something must be done with you. I would not like to see you eliminated, but if that is what must be done," Julien shrugged his shoulders. "so be it."
Derek did not dignify a response to the explosive statement, but everyone else in the room did. Shouting and arguments filled the small, ancient room and Derek could feel his head pounding. He had had little to no sleep in the past two days and his fate was left in the hands of crotchety old men.
He needed to see Cecilia. Immediately.
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Although her sleep was deep, it was also brief and it was only an hour after sunrise did Cecilia awaken. Tendrils of sunlight descended through her open window and peaked through flimsy curtains. They sparkled upon her dark hair and bid her to wake up. Looking over on her side, she saw that her younger sister, who shared her bed the night before, was still fast asleep.
Careful not to wake her, Cecilia crept out of bed and reached for her cream colored dressing robe. Shrugging the silky material on, she spent the next half hour getting dressed and ready for the day. Feeling oddly calm, she pulled on one of her worn, favorite gowns; a once periwinkle cotton dress that faded to a soft blue-grey. Her hair was half-pinned, leaving various waves to descend down her back. She wrote a note to her sister, placed it on the pillow next to her, and left the room, an oddly quiet Ilario trailing at her feet.
Outside of the room, a flurry of activity appeared to be going on. Maids and servants scrambled everywhere, damp laundry flying, trunks banging on the hall floor and voices—so many voices, shouting, gossiping, whispering, mumbling, commanding, obeying. Cecilia's senses were overloaded with sights and sounds.
She stopped a decidedly frazzled Priscilla, who had a large laundry basket in hand. "Miss Priscilla, what is going on here?" Cecilia wanted to know.
Priscilla's eyes seemed to tear over immediately. "Oh, my Lady," she said, biting her lip, "everyone is leaving."
Cecilia looked bewildered. "Leaving?"
"You didn't know?" Priscilla asked, completely ignoring the other maids whirling around her. "All of the rulers from the neighboring countries—Inglin, Scoughtlyn, Eyerlin, Spainne, Germaine, Bellgium—they all arrived last night! Your father contacted them, Princess, and told them about His Highness's condition. Now the other ladies are all leaving—their fathers don't want them to stay any longer!"
A hand on her heart, Cecilia leaned against her doorway. "All of them?"
Priscilla nodded. "Yes." Her eyes looked sympathetic. "Even you, Lady."
"Father is really making me leave?" The words were faintly spoken, as if they were thoughts accidentally voiced.
The older woman gestured to the laundry basket. "He is indeed. In fact, these are yours, Princess."
"Where is he?" Cecilia choked suddenly, a wave of emotion riding up in her throat. "Where is he? I need to see him."
Priscilla frowned. "Your father, Lady? I doubt he will change his mind, even if you go to see him."
Cecilia shook her head. "No, not my father."
Immediately the other woman understood. "He has not been harmed," she said gently, laying a comforting arm on Cecilia's shaking shoulder. "He is, actually, with your father. They are arguing."
"Oh no!" Cecilia's mind conjured many images of her father and Derek—none of them particularly peaceful. She stalked quickly down the hallway, dodging running maids, screeching noblewomen and panicked serving girls.
Running down the grand staircase, she turned left towards angry voices, completely ignoring the kings and queens who gave her odd stares. Encased in the shadows of the doorway to the small stone room, Cecilia felt a hand on her arm.
"Hello, Cecilia." Even darkened in the shadows, Cecilia could make out the queen's face. It was still regal and elegant, but worry lines were clearly visible and her eyes were old and tired. Sophistication was the last thing on her mind.
"Is it true?" whispered Cecilia. "Are they all going?"
"Yes. King Emil of Germaine said his daughter was not fit to stay here. Lucinda, Belinda, Melinda, and Florinda have learned of the Curse and fainted in horror—they were the first to leave. As for Tessa, Ana and Fiona… they did not want to leave. But their parents and guardians are making them, for we fear a war and they do not want them involved."
Cecilia was aghast. "A war?"
"Over what to do with Derek. The monarchs of Germaine, Bellgium, Inglin, and your father feel that Derek must be killed or at least imprisoned for everyone's safety. Eyerlin, Scoughtlyn, Spainne and myself, obviously, feel the exact opposite. We are at an impasse—and the supposedly 'peaceful' meeting adjourned two hours ago with shouting and fear and anger. As much as I want to hate the other countries for it, I can only see they are acting out of love and fear. I just don't know what to do," she confessed, sighing. "I am so sorry my dear," said a defeated Marguerite.
"For what?" Cecilia answered. "The only person who needs to apologize is my father for his atrocious behavior. I thank you, Marguerite, for the kindness and hospitality you have shown me. As rude as this may sound, I only wish I could have stayed longer."
"As do I, dear," smiled the saddened queen. "I am afraid I shall not see you for quite some time."
Feeling a fleeting hint of humor, Cecilia smiled. "You'll see me soon," she assured her. "If not soon, then surely at our wedding."
Marguerite blinked, stunned. "You love him then?"
"With every breath in me."
Hugging the girl tightly to her, Marguerite forgot about the impending obstacles the other monarchs imposed, forgot about everything else except that for once in his life, her son had a chance at a blissful future.
The two women separated and turned silent eyes onto the scene before them: Derek and Cesario faced each other, poised to attack—whether it was physically or verbally neither could tell—hands clenched, shoulders tense, with irritated scowls on their faces. Behind him, Cesario's guards stood ready to defend their king if necessary.
"Go to him," were Marguerite's whispered words, "before either of them does something rash."
That was all she needed. "Derek," she called out softly to her beloved.
Both father and suitor heard her. "Cecilia," they both said at the same time, then whipped their heads to glare at each other.
"Cecilia, stay back! Go back your things! We're leaving!" her father barked.
"No," snarled Derek, walking, trying to go towards the sound of her voice.
"Guards!"
Immediately they were upon Derek, each holding one arm as he wrestled wildly, trying to get to her. Cecilia felt tears slip down her cheeks at the sight of him, so worn and yet not beaten, doing anything he could just to get to her. She understood the feeling. If it had been she, she would have done the same.
"Oh, Derek," she said, trying to move toward him, though her feet would not listen. Belatedly, she realized it was because a guard was binding her as well. She started to struggle, faintly hearing Marguerite's protests.
Cesario looked cruelly, smugly on. "Father," cried Cecilia, "why are you doing this? Why do you take pleasure in hurting me so?"
His anger melted away from his face. "I am concerned for you, my daughter," he said. "Is that so wrong for a man to keep his loved ones safe?"
"I will not disappear!" She shouted. "I will not desert you as Mother did. Please, please, let me be happy. I love him!"
"You do not know what you are talking about!" Cesario roared. "You would only be causing yourself pain if you marry this monster—I am trying to help you. Why can you not accept that? I am not trying to hurt you."
"But you are," sobbed Cecilia. "You are." Through tears she could see matching droplets on Derek's face, his anguish evident because of hers.
"Someday," Cesario said softly, and his voice was sad, but strong. "You will understand why I did what I have done today. And you will thank me for it." His features hardened and he once again became a king, not a father. "But for now we will be going home. I would rather die than let you marry this monster," he said, the disgust in his voice apparent.
At his words, something in Derek seemed to shatter and he slumped to the ground, his arms still bound, defeated. "Cesario," he said, his voice deep and weary. "I will no longer fight you on Cecilia returning to Italle—but at least…. At least let me see her." His voice broke at his next words: "Just one last time."
Cecilia saw the pain on his face, the defeat in his posture, and despaired over it. He was giving her up that quickly? Was her storybook love ending already?
Her father considered the words. "I will let you see her one last time," he said, his temporary kindness peeking through. "For closure." He nodded to the guards, who released Cecilia, though not Derek.
She ran to him, stumbling, falling on her knees before him. Cradling his face in her hands, their eyes drank in each other as they fought to memorize each other like the many passages of books they had read. And in his dark eyes, the eyes she loved so much, Cecilia saw strength and determination there. He was not giving her up, not by a long shot.
Although her father didn't have to know that.
Cecilia kissed him, uncaring that her father and the guards and his mother were watching. And he kissed her back, slowly and tenderly, pouring all of his emotions into the physical action. He felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces, and he wondered if happiness would always be out of his reach. Nevertheless— "I love you," he whispered to her, voice rough. "If nothing else, don't forget that. Never doubt my love." Dropping his voice even lower, so the guards could not hear, "And I will find you, love. No matter where you may be, I will come for you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, wishing he could do the same for her, hating how he was still bound, still trapped physically and emotionally. Inhaling his scent as she buried her head into his shoulder, turning her head only to whisper, "I love you. And when you shall come for me, no matter when or where, I will be ready for you."
With all of her strength, she held onto him, reveling in his nearness, and only when her father's guards pried her arms away did she finally let go.
Last Edited: 4/7/09
