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 Seventeen
"Cecilia, dear," Cesario's voice rang through the castle and everyone in the vicinity visibly winced. "Would you come here please?"
Cecilia suppressed a grimace. She concluded that, without a doubt, her father had lost his mind. Where was his head, to screech his business to everyone in the castle? Why not send a servant to tell her? Of course, servants gossiped and the word would have gotten around eventually, but still. Let their business be aired the civilized and old-fashioned way at least.
Without answering, she slowly rose from her seat and went into her father's study. "Cecilia," he said, a great grin on his face. "I have some wonderful news for you."
His daughter tensed, feeling as though "wonderful" news would be as terrible as...
"You are to be married," Cesario said jovially, "to Lord Adrian."
Cecilia swallowed. There were two ways she could handle the situation, she thought, her brain racing to come up with a suitable path of action. She could either throw a fit, provoking her father into something rash, or she could take the news maturely, like she would have if she had never met Derek and her father informed her of a marriage. She would be upset and reluctant, but otherwise cooperative.
At that point, it would be better for her to take the latter route, Cecilia concluded. That way, when she plotted for escape he would have no reason to suspect her; he would have no way of knowing her true feelings. With a feeling of dread, Cecilia realized that she was indeed "keeping her friends close and her enemies closer." It just broke her heart to classify her father as an enemy.
"Well," she finally answered. "I cannot say I'm surprised."
Her father peered at her closely. "Why do you say that?"
"You and Lord Adrian have been quite chummy lately… 'tis only natural, I suppose," Cecilia continued, her heart pounding. She was counting on the fact that her father was not all there, mentally speaking. Normally he was a very observant man.
"What?" Her father wanted to know. "No tears, no begging or pleading for me to reconsider?"
"I fear that if I did so, my efforts would be in vain," Cecilia replied flatly. "They would be a waste of breath. I have accepted my fate and my duty....And. And honestly, I have quite forgotten Derek already."
Cesario smiled, relieved. Little did he know that the fate and duty Cecilia spoke of was not the same as was implied, and that she was nowhere near forgetting her True One.
I will find my way back to you, Derek, thought Cecilia. Please wait for me.
It was urgent that Cecilia find a way to write a message to Derek. The only way to make an escape plan work was through communication. But how?
"Mmmph, mmm," came a whimper from Cecilia's left. Turning, she saw Ilario, looking up at her with sad eyes. He was too big for her to pick up, now, but she knelt down to pet him anyway.
"Do you miss him?" She whispered. Ilario's tail wagged in reply. "I miss him, too," she said, hugging the dog to her. "I miss everyone." Well, almost everyone. Not Keleigh, that was for certain, but she missed Tessa and Fiona and Ana… Ana!
The next day, Cecilia approached her father with a proposition. "I want Princess Ana of Spainne to be my Maiden of Honor," she told him. "Since she and Lord Adrian are both from Spainne, I think it is appropriate."
"Hmm," Cesario stroked his beard. "Her brother, I believe, is aiding Derek…"
"Ana's loyalties lie with me over Derek," Cecilia replied quickly, hoping he did not think of Ana's loyalties ultimately lying with her brother as opposed to Cecilia.
"That is true," Cesario said, missing the point completely. "That is fine, then. Write her."
Thinking of something, Cecilia stopped. "When is my wedding?"
"A week before spring solstice," replied Cesario.
Cecilia felt sick. There wasn't much time left.
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The first thing Derek thought when his brain was able to work coherently again was that she looked just like the picture in the book.
"You two are both very diligent, I must admit," the Enchantress said, slowly walking around the two men, both frozen in shock. "I am impressed. It took you a while to find the book, however. I was wondering if you ever would."
Derek's heart began to pound in fear. This was the woman who caused the Curse upon his family. Derek was glad he was too stunned to be angry; he felt turning into a wolf with both Rafael and the Enchantress in the room would not bode well for anyone. However, he had to admit that although the Curse was horrific, an indescribable pain and burden to live with, he knew instinctively that without it, eventually his family line would have been annulled through a Revolution or he would have become the spoiled brat most royal children turned out to be.
But still.
"What are you doing here, milady?" Tristàn's strangled voice croaked.
"To warn you," she said. "Regardless of what you may think, Crown Prince," she said, addressing Derek, "I want you to overcome this. You and your family have repented sufficiently. The prosperity of your kingdom and your treatment of others have proven that."
Derek blinked.
The Enchantress laughed, and it was kind and low. "Your determination and loyalty have served you well, Prince Derek. Now it is time to summon your courage and strength." Her eyes turned solemn. "You will need it."
"Milady…" Derek trailed off hesitantly. "Are you going to help us?"
The Enchantress shook her head. "I cannot, I'm afraid," she said. "As you read in the story, it is not my place to interfere. If, however, my brother makes his presence known, then I will go to battle again. 'Tis only fair, I suppose."
"What do we need to do then?" Derek asked quietly, his head spinning. "I fear I am lost. I do not know what I need to do now."
The Enchantress gave him a compassionate, patient smile, as a mother would do to her child. "Well, you must first find Cecilia and marry her," she told him. "The broken curse will help you. You must, obviously, defeat Adrian. His own followers will be small, and I doubt Italle will want to go to war again. Many of their men were wiped out the previous war. However, if Adrian appeals to his mother's side—the Russhans, then you will be in trouble. What the Russhans don't have in technology they make up for in numbers. King Rafael, you must act quickly to rally men before Lord Adrian does. Derek, you will have to rally numbers as well. Germaine and Inglin are remaining neutral, although Derek must be an exemplary diplomat in order to stay on their good side. Scoughtlyn and Eyerlin are willing to be suppliers in everything but men, I believe, which is a good sign.
"I realize my nephew may use dark arts, but he cannot cause death as his father can. He may, however, be able to… aide it, a bit. Be careful. Test your water—boil it before drinking. Cook your food thoroughly and don't leave anything unattended. I fear that he may use the route his father took, and aide in starting a plague.
"You can do it, you know," she said, a reassuring smile planted on her face, "I believe in you. And now, I must go. I have faith in you. What you must have now is faith in yourselves."
And with a crackle of electricity, she was gone, leaving an aftermath of gold dust.
"Well, what in the devil do we do now?" Derek turned to Tristàn, the former looking a tad dazed still.
"You heard her," Tristàn said grimly, his mouth set in a straight, firm line. "We gather the men and prepare for combat."
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"I'm glad you called me, my friend," Ana whispered to Cecilia as the two greeted at the castle entranceway two weeks later. "I have some good news for you."
"Really?" grinned Cecilia, feeling lighter than she had in weeks since her separation from Derek. "Do tell."
"Soon," murmured Ana, as the two fell into silence as they traipsed the stairs up to Cecilia's room. Once the door was shut, Ana's eyes gleamed. "When I leave here, I am to return to Spainne—throw off any spies your father will send with me. From there, I will go to Fraanc. My brother is there, you see, helping your love with his task. Any message you want to send to him you can give to me.
"I think that, once I leave here, we should have an escape plan for you," continued Ana. "Nothing is clear anymore—if it ever was, I suppose. I feel it is best we be safe rather than sorry."
"That's good thinking," Cecilia agreed slowly. "Where would I go once I escaped, though?"
"Either to Fraanc or Spainne, I suppose," Ana shrugged. "But first we must come up with a general plan."
And so they did. Long into the night when they were supposedly planning wedding details, the two girls plotted of Cecilia's escape. Moonlight and candles were the only light they needed as they sketched out on parchment the various aspects of their plan.
"Are there any wedding traditions that can be used to our advantage?" Ana wanted to know.
Cecilia thought for a moment, trying to recall ancient customs from the many books she read. "There is a very ancient Roman one… no man may see the bride a week before the wedding. It is during that time she is to be educated on… wifely duties. Throughout the centuries, the custom has transformed into one where the bridegroom is not allowed to see his bride the day before the wedding until the actual ceremony. I suppose I could invoke the ancient Roman one. It would be unusual, but not unheard of. A week is not enough time to go to Fraanc to see Derek, though…"
"What if we brought Derek to you?" Ana wanted to know. "Where are you getting married?"
"Here, I suppose," Cecilia said, frowning confusedly. "Where else would we get married?"
Ana grinned and told her.
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Her father looked at her suspiciously. "Why Spainne?"
"Because everyone would think we would have the wedding here, in Italle," Cecilia explained. "We would be like sitting ducks. It would be better to be married in Spainne, privately, in hope that the enemy would not know. And once the war is over and… we win, then we can come home and celebrate with a huge ball, celebrating our victory and my wedding." She hoped her father couldn't see the nervous hairs on the back of her neck, see the perspiration developing high on her forehead, or notice the way her hands were clasped so tightly together her knuckles lost all color.
"And besides," she continued, "from there, you can attack Fraanc more easily. If you attacked from our border, your men would have to cross mountains. From the Fraanc-Spainne border, you would not have to do so."
Cesario thought it over, then grinned. "I will bring this up with my advisers," he announced, "but I think, dear daughter, you are finally using some common sense."
Trying not to flinch at his condescending, distant tone, Cecilia nodded, curtseyed, and left the room, not wanting to be with this man any longer than she had to.
Hurrying back to her chambers, she quickly locked the door. Luckily, her maids were gone and she was left alone. It would be a good time to write a letter to Derek. It would have to be a fairly neutral letter, one that, if it fell in the wrong hands, would not cause any serious damage. She would have Ilario carry it—she decided that she would send him with Ana to give to Derek. Cecilia hoped that Ilario would bring Derek the same comfort that he did to her.
Derek—
Darling, we don't have much time. Spring solstice is approaching and my father has plans for me… ones that involve Lord Adrian. I don't know how we will find each other, but I still have hope. Please still have hope in me, in us. We will find our way.
I miss you. Every moment of every day. I wish you were here… I wish I was there. Since neither can occur, please accept Ilario in my stead. I will see you soon, I can feel it.
Love,
Cecilia
It was short and sweet. Perhaps it was not the most subtle, but Cecilia liked to think it did not indulge too much.
She rolled it up so it was absolutely tiny and fiddled with Ilario's Itallian leather collar, trying to make it fit snugly. After a few minutes she succeeded and patted Ilario on the head. "Make sure Derek receives this, please?"
Ilario looked at her solemnly, as if he knew the gravity of the situation. Cecilia scooped him in her arms one last time. Ana would be going back to Spainne that afternoon. Almost immediately she would travel to Fraanc to deliver Ilario and other news to her brother. Racing back to Spainne, she would then greet Cecilia and her father in time for wedding preparations. Ana would be enduring a lot of travel—the wedding was in exactly a month.
"Keep yourself in good health," Cecilia said sternly to her friend as Ana prepared to depart in her carriage. "All of that traveling is hard on one's body."
Ana nodded. "I will," she said. "It will be difficult, but since I am traveling with the doctor you provided for me, I am sure that I will be in good hands."
The two girls hugged. "Thank you for all you have done," whispered Cecilia. "I will see you soon."
Ana smiled. "I'll tell Derek that you miss him," she winked and climbed into the carriage. Ilario whimpered slightly upon seeing Cecilia s the carriage door opened, and Cecilia gave him a small wave. Ana closed the door and was off.
Cecilia had never felt so alone.
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"I feel that your daughter's idea is a good one," conceded Benvolio as Cesario and this three advisers discussed the ever-altering plans. "It would be easier to attack from Spainne. But it will be difficult to get the troops in without many people noticing. There are spies everywhere in Spainne, I hear."
"The troops can come in by boat," Iago said. "They can wait along the shore and no one will know if they are supplies or people. It will be easier if we attack in the dead of night, though."
"You're right," Cesario said. "We should attack when no one expects it." He grinned ferally. "Like on the night of Cecilia's wedding."
Last Edited: 4/7/09
