Chapter Two: Beautiful Idiot

Meghan POV

Several days after the contract between Oberon and Mab had been made, the arrangements were followed through. On one of the coldest, most frosty days in the Winter Court, Princess Meghan was sent by her father's servants to the hostile realm. Although she forced a smile onto her face, Meghan's face was nothing but bitter. She tried to make it look as if she found living with the Unseelie Court ok, for the sake of her new found (and only, really) friend, Tara. Tara was one of the Summer fey, but any of her glares sent the Winter faeries rushing in the other direction. She was not someone you could easily scare off, and Meghan admired that, trying to be just as fierce.

But that was difficult job when you were only a half breed and scared to death of the vicious citizens of the Winter Realm. They showed her nothing but disrespect and hatred in her presence, and the royal family was far worse! At that party days ago when things had seemed somewhat all right, Meghan had been formally introduced to the lethal queen, Mab, and her two remaining sons apart from Ash. Sage was the oldest out of the three, and by many means the most mature and polite, for he lingered in the shadows with his yellow eyed wolf during the entire evening. Rowan, on the other hand, was a bit of a pervert and made Meghan downright uncomfortable. She avoided his seductive eyes as best as she could, and hoped that he would leave her alone, which he rarely did.

Prince Ash. Meghan closed her eyes slowly, and tried to hide her small and honest smile. Despite the frightening fact that the youngest son of Mab had tried to behead Puck and her, she still found him attractive. Her smile faded. She knew that it was wise to stay away from him. After all, as Tara had reminded her twice now, the Winter Court was nothing but bad news. And Ash was the baddest news possible.

But that hadn't stopped her from double checking her mascara and eye liner before she left the Summer Realm that morning, or wearing a beautiful emerald green dress that she personally found stunning. And it hadn't made her any less nervous, either.

So when the carriage stopped in front of the Winter castle, Meghan felt as if somebody had poured butterflies down her stomach. She tried to hide her nervousness by making remarks to Tara who only looked at the castle with her gloomy glare. However, Tara quickly straightened her back when out of the elegant building walked Ash, whom was looking over the entire scene with a bored glance. At first, Meghan thought Tara was just being polite to the royalty, after all, it was expected, but then she smiled gently, and she realized it must be something more. I'll ask about it later, she thought.

The royalties of both the courts began going through the necessary politeness, with Ash staring icily at Tara and Meghan. After that, training began directly.

Ash led them through the palace's gardens and on the way they passed one which was filled with frozen statues. After having the prince speak of the story behind the frozen people, Meghan realized with a shudder that Mab and the Greek legend Medusa had more in common than she feared. Both had a fascination for living statues.

When they reached the training grounds, which was really just another garden, Meghan stopped short and stared as Ash pulled out a sword towards her and waited for her to accept it. "Seriously?" she questioned doubtfully. It sounded more human than she had wanted it to.

Ash's icy, deep eyes looked into hers for a second and her breath hitched. "Why do you think I'm handing you a sword?"

Meghan struggled to recover, and saw Ash's smile turn into a grimace. She heard him mutter "Summer fey" under his breath and felt dirty and unappreciated. She took a deep breath, and ran her hand down the sleek sword that was covered with ancient designs.

"Ok, but I don't think I can practice in these clothes. I mean, I'm wearing a dress, after all." She looked up to seek agreement from Tara, but to her wounding shock, only found a sneer on the Summer fey's face.

"Come on, Meghan," she taunted her. "Did you come here to dance or something? Dresses are for balls, not sword fights." Tara herself was appropriately dressed for training in elegant black pants and a tank top.

Ash nodded in approval of Tara, which stunned Meghan even more. Are they in love or something? The thought burned scars into her brain, before she told herself she was being stupid. Of course they weren't in love. They were in opposite courts for God's sake!

"Okay, I'll do the best I can with what I've got," she declared bravely, and her heart took a flop when Tara and Ash shared a sneer. This is going to be Hell.

They began with several warm ups, like running a few laps, which was difficult for Meghan because of the annoying dress that kept getting in the way. However, when she started swinging her sword, that's when the real trouble started.

She was clumsy when she held her sword, despite the fact that it weighed close to nothing and that she had a good hold of it. When she tried doing what Ash and Tara showed her, she felt hopeless and in more than one occasion, clumsy. Their shared glances didn't help much either, and only added to her frustration. After about twenty minutes when they started practicing blocking attacks, she decided she'd had the last straw after Tara began laughing.

"I've had it!" Meghan yelled, and exited the gardens with Tara's giggles and Ash's slight snickering echoing behind her. They had been nothing but rude to her, knowing that she was a beginner, and on top of that, human. Suddenly, she could no longer hold back tears, and they streamed forward with her not having the slightest care in the world until she almost crashed straight into the Winter Court Queen.

Meghan looked up innocently into the frosty monarch's face and saw the unhidden fury embedded there in her features. She saw the Queen raise a single, pale hand, and closed her eyes in fear. Whatever the punishment was, it wasn't good. As she shut her eyes, she felt the first layer of ice start to creep over her skin.