Letters

I have one thing to say right now! We're going to the chapel and we're, gonna get married! That's right peeps! Another wedding!

Disclaimer: I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door, that is property of Mr. Warburton and Cartoon Network. I don't own Ella Enchanted, that is property of Gail Carson Levine.

Words: 4,534

Previously on Kuki Enchanted:

Once Mother's carriage was out of sight, Sir Montgomery stopped bellowing his sorrow, dabbed at his eyes, and instructed Jackson and the manservant, George, to take my things to the servants' wing. My new room was the least of the servants' quarters, more a cell than a proper living place. With a tiny window and no fireplace, I guessed it would be quite cold in the winter.

Once my things were moved, Sir Montgomery called for me. Ace stood by his side, arms crossed, and a smug expression on his face as I entered the tea room and took a seat by the door. Nigel was there as well, gazing out of the window glumly.

"You are not to sit, Kukihana," Sir Montgomery sniffed, "it is improper and impolite to do so in the presence of your superiors."

I glared at him and remained seated. His eyes bugged out, and he spoke again, appalled.

"Did you not hear me? You are not…"

"Stand up, Kuki. And stay standing," Ace ordered, a smirk on his face.

I gritted my teeth and clutched at the edges of the chair seat. Sir Montgomery watched in fascination at my efforts to stay still. It was, as usual, too much. I stood and felt my symptoms dissipate.

"Kuki is very obedient, Father," Ace gloated, coming to stand right next to me, "Kuki, tell Father just how obedient you are."

"…very obedient," I bit out. I ground the heel of my shoes into his toes, and he let out a high-pitched yelp. Far too loud than any boy should be able to at that.

"What is this?" Sir Monty asked as Ace moved a safe distance away from me.

"I don't know. But she'll do whatever she's told."

"Truly?" Sir Montgomery squeaked, his eyes lighting up.

Ace nodded.

"You mean all this time, she would have listened to me, too?" Nigel asked in disbelief. I glared at him, but he refused to meet my eyes.

"Hop on one foot three times, Kuki," Sir Montgomery commanded excitement evident in his voice. My legs shook as I tried to resist, but soon I was hopping up and down.

"Jaceon, you're so clever!" Sir Monty exclaimed, pinching Ace's cheek as he tried to squirm away.

"As clever as he is handsome," I commented blandly.

They both looked at me in confusion.

"But Ace is not very handsome," Nigel piped up, clearly still bewildered.

My little triumph was bittersweet, but I still smirked at the look of insult on Ace's face.

Sir Monty sent me to my room for the rest of the day. As the sun began to set, Jackson fetched me, as Sir Monty had called for all the servants to be in assemble. He brought with him a standard uniform for me to change into: plain gray skirt and a gray blouse. My lip curled, but I grudgingly put the clothes on. I hoped that Kami had taken care of mine and Father's clothes; it would not do for Sir Monty to discover their existence.

The assembly was to introduce me as a servant.

"From now on," Sir Monty announced airily, "Kuki will be one of you. I expect you to teach her how to be a proper servant. Who would like to take her?"

"I need a new stable hand," a burly man named Brian spoke up. My eyes widened in alarm. Brian was in charge of the stables, and I had seen him boxing the ears of one of the stable hands in passing the day previous. Jackson had informed me that the servants referred to him as "Manwhore," because of his habit of trying to get with anything that had two legs. I had wanted to speak to Mother or Sir Monty about him, but I was certainly in no position to do so now. I felt the blood drain from my face at the idea of working under this man, and saw Ace grin nastily.

"I need a helper in the kitchen." It was Kami! She must have arrived while I was confined to my room. "I know the girl, and while she is a stubborn little brat, I'm convinced I can train her if given free reign over her discipline. May I have her, your lordship?"

I tried not to show how relieved I felt. Sir Monty had tasted Kami's fine cooking far too often at this point to deny her anything she wanted.

"I don't want her to be spoiled," Sir Monty warned, "she needs to earn her keep."

"Oh, she will," Kami promised, "I'll have blisters on those hands in no time, and you will get a fine cook as well."

Sir Monty certainly couldn't say no to that.

A few days later, I was working in the kitchen with Kami. I enjoyed my time with her the most; it hardly seemed different from my life back at Sanban manor. However, our pleasant afternoon was soon interrupted when Nigel wandered in.

"I'm hungry," he announced, "make me a cake, please."

Kami started to gather the ingredients.

"No, I want Kuki to," Nigel clarified.

I sighed and started measuring the flour. Nigel moved to stand by me.

"Talk to me."

I sent him a derisive glare but heeded his order. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about Rachel."

"You don't deserve to know about her," I snapped, even though I knew I would have to give in eventually, "You could have spent all your time at Gallagher getting to know every little detail about her, but you squandered it away on a pointless courtship and just hurt her instead."

Nigel looked cowed. "I'd do it differently, if I could, you know," he confessed. "All of it. Rachel, Elizabeth…you…"

"Rachel has an addiction to meatball sandwiches," I replied in an effort to obey his order, annoyed that he did not understand that changing the subject did not relieve me of the effects of the curse, "And what do you mean?"

"I do not know," Nigel mumbled, "I just feel bad. About all of it. I wish I were braver. Like you."

"I'm not brave," I informed him heatedly, "I just do what I need to in order to survive. You really do not see how easy your life is, do you? What are you so afraid of?"

Nigel shrugged. He looked miserable and pitiful. I sighed. I understood that he wanted to be a better person, but I did not have the energy or the patience to be the person to guide him on that journey.

After that day, Nigel followed me around like a lost puppy. He issued orders without thinking, and I glared at him every time. Once in a while, he would look sheepish and change the order to a request. He babbled on and on about Elizabeth and Rachel and what had happened at Gallagher's after I left. Ace and his group of friends had continued to tease Abba and Rachel, and Nigel told me how much he regretted not defending Rachel's honour. He continued to pester me, asking my opinions about his ridiculous relationships until my feelings for him changed from seething resentment to amused disdain. He truly was an oblivious boy, but I could tell that he was well-meaning underneath his cowardice and ignorance. Eventually, I no longer minded his presence, and told him I could tolerate him well enough, and would try to help him become worthy of Rachel, so long as he did not order me about.

A week after my servitude had begun, Sir Monty hosted a formal dinner, to console himself over Mother's departure. The morning before, he had me scrubbing the dining hall floor with lye and water while he supervised.

"Scrub on your hands and knees, Kuki. Add more lye to the water." My hands smarted every time I dipped the rag into the mixture, and within the first half hour, my knuckles were bleeding. At one point, Ace walked through the hall with muddy boots, whistling nonchalantly. Several servants also passed by, either gawking or snickering at me.

Jackson also came by two hours after I had started, during one of Sir Monty's inspections.

"Scrub harder, Kuki! I want the floors to reflect my captivating countenance."

I bit my lip and tried not to laugh as Jackson snuck up behind him and pretended to dump a bucket of water over his head.

"What amuses you?" Sir Monty asked angrily.

"Nothing," I said, and stopped smiling.

Finally, after three hours, the floor was glistening and immaculate. I went to Kami, my hands bleeding and blistered. Fortunately, no other servants were around.

"Oh sweetie!" she cried when she saw my hands. She gripped my wrists gently and made me sit down, grabbing a jug of Tonic from the cupboard. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she applied some of it to my wounds.

I derived further satisfaction later that day, once the banquet had started. Jackson was starting to bring out the individual Cornish hens, when I asked him to pause. I plucked an herb from one of Kami's jars and crushed it, sprinkling it over one of the dishes in particular.

"Give this one to Poppa Monty," I told Jackson.

"Don't listen to her, Jackson." Kami said, looking at me.

"What will it do?" Jackson looked worried.

I don't want to be blamed when his lordship ends up snoring in front of his guests," Kami warned.

"Oh, is that all?" He asked, chuckling, "I'll make sure it gets to him." And with that, he left to deliver the meal.

"A good boy, that Jackson is," Kami observed, and I grinned at her.

Brian and a stable hand had to be called into the dining hall to cart an unconscious Sir Monty to his sleeping quarters before the guests had finished dessert. Jackson and I watched through a hole in the kitchen wall, giggling, as the two men struggled with his bulk as they climbed up the extravagant staircase.

Despite the host's early retirement, the festivities continued into the night, and unfortunately, I witnessed them first hand when Ace summoned me to tend the fire. I fumed silently as members of court and nobility watched me move about, dirty and covered in soot. People like Ace's friends had always viewed me as inferior, and now here was the concrete proof.

I could not think of a way out of this situation. Mother had ordered me not to run off again, and Kami's magic was too small to be of much help. Wally was hundreds of miles away, and there was no way to explain my troubles to him.

My spirits rose three days after the humiliation of Sir Monty's banquet when a letter arrived for me from Wally, a mere ten days after I had sent mine. In it, he signed off with simply "Wally," and so I knew it had been silly to address him as "Prince Wally" in print. We wrote letter after letter for the next year. As I had requested, Wally addressed his letters to Kami, who pretended to have a lover writing to her. Sir Monty chortled at the idea of Kami's romance, though Jackson and I agreed that he had no place to judge, considered his absurd, mercenary marriage to Mother.

Wally wrote in a loose, sweeping scrawl, in contrast to my meticulous, tiny cursive. I enjoyed the contrast. In his fourth letter, he wrote:

Dear Kooks, I smiled at reading the nickname he had given to me a few letters back.

Ayorthans hardly speak at all. It is very strange for me, as I tend to ramble to fill the silence. I fear it makes me look quite the fool in front of the solemn dignitaries at the palace. They must wonder why I waste so much of my voice on mundane conversation. And how I long for conversation!

The other day, I was walking in the gardens with a young lady named Ywendy –

Ywendy? Walking in the gardens? My stomach twisted and it took me a moment to understand what I was feeling. I was jealous.

In my mind, I commented on the beauty of the flowers, told her about a similar kind we have in Kyrria, and asked what their flowers were called. In my imagination, she would have agreed that the flowers were beautiful, told me their name, and asked me to describe the Kyrrian lilies.

Of course, when I actually did remark on the flowers and ask their name, she remained silent for a generous stretch of time, and replied with only their name. I assume she spent so much time wondering why I would disturb the natural music the birds provided with pointless conversation that in the end, she could only muster the energy to supply one word.

I realize now that, denied the opportunity to ramble out loud, I am instead rambling to you in writing. How disappointing I am sure you will find this letter!

Most of my imaginary conversations are not with Ywendy, but with you. I know what I would say to you if I were with you in Frell. I would tell you more than once how glad I was to see you, and tell you more of Ayortha. I would ask you how you are adjusting to your new family life, and inquire after Apple and your cook, Kami. The only danger to our conversation is would be that at any moment I could turn Ayorthan and trail off into silence, too preoccupied in smiling at you.

The trouble is, I cannot guess as to your responses to any of these topics of conversation, and so my imaginary dialogue remains incomplete. The only solution, as I see it, is for you to write to me again, and soon, and often!

Your very good (and currently silent) friend,

Wally

In my reply, I decided to give him the conversation he so desired:

Hello dere Govner! Pip pip cherrio! Nice weather today, eh wot? But is looks like rain, don't you think? But as the Elves say, we cannot always have sunny days. And they're right, are they not? Too bad, I daresay; life would be much happier if every day were a sunny one, indeed. For I myself only count the sunny hours of the day, for counting the dark days is not cheerful at all. A fine fellow such as yourself; I am sure you have enough sense to concur.

Have I rid you yet of your want for conversation?

I paused in my writing. I struggled with each letter to find truthful things to say, though I could not really tell him about my servitude to the Uno's (as I still could not tell him about Henrietta's curse). I recalled that Sir Monty had recently hosted a debutante ball for his poorer cousin's daughter. I described the event in lavish detail, omitting the fact that I was only in attendance to keep the goblets full of wine.

His reply to this letter was interesting, to say the least.

Kooks,

I would not know what I would do without your comments. I fear I may have gone mad if I not have found ways to entertain myself. I'd be lying if I said I don't look forward to your letters as I spend my days in Ayortha.

By the way, you are almost three months older than the last time I saw you. Are you still too young to marry?

I laughed at his joke, but then thought sadly of the bride I'd make, dressed in cheap, threadbare rags, hair limp and coated with soot, smudges of grease on my face and my hands, having just finished preparing dinner.

Wally repeated the query at the end of each of his letters from then on, most likely because my nonsensical replies amused him. If not too young to marry, I was too hungry, or too cold, or too sleepy, or too concerned with the newest trends in court fashion.

I sometimes tortured myself by wondering what would happen if I told Wally in one of my letters that I was now the right age to marry. With each letter, I fell more in love with him. I realized now that what I used to feel was mere infatuation, and it paled in comparison to the heady ache in my chest that never seemed to go away now, and only intensified when I read one of Wally's letters or composed one to send to him. I knew my love was true when his letters turned more serious, and he trusted me to confess his flaws and less appealing characteristics, and the ache in my chest did not go away. Instead, it only seemed to grow.

In one such letter, he begged my confidence and wrote:

Just as I am slow to anger, I am slow to forgive. I do not let go of grudges easily; once my rage has been incited, it hardly ever truly goes away.

For example, my sister had a languages tutor two years ago who treated her horribly. I found her crying in the courtyard after her lesson one afternoon. He had told her she was stupid and silly and that he saw no point in tutoring frivolous females such as she. I saw red. I had him dismissed immediately; Father trusted my judgment on such matters.

But I took things further than that. I made sure the tutor would not be employed in Kyrria again. Even though the man is ruined, and two years have passed, I still feel a simmering anger when I think of him. I simply cannot let it go. I worry how this flaw will affect my ability to rule over Kyrria one day, and wonder if, deep down, I will be the sort of ruler who does not allow anyone to challenge me or my family.

I wrote back to him,

Kami believes there are two kinds of people: those who blame others, and those who blame only themselves. I believe I am in a privileged third category: those who can tell where the blame truly lies. Here is my judgment: you stand condemned, Wally. Your crime? Guilty of too much passion in protecting those you love. Both a vice and a virtue, depending on the context. How shameful!

Though you have freely confessed your faults to me, I do not feel compelled to such frankness. No, if you long to know more of the unfortunate aspects of my character, you shall have to find them out yourself. I do hope that when you do, you will be able to forgive them, though it goes against your nature.

I remember the date of Wally's next letter. It arrived exactly one month after my 17th birthday; we had been writing to each other for just about a year. Kami received the letter in the morning, but I could not read it at all that day. Sir Monty had me cleaning windows at dawn, and at lunch Ace ordered me to fetch his shoes from the cobbler. When I delivered them to him, he made me polish all his shoes and boots and sat leering at me the whole time, making my skin crawl. By the time I was finished, it was late evening, and Kami was just washing the last of the dishes. I took the letter up to my room, lit a candle, and broke the seal on the envelope.

Dear Kooks,

I like to think I am a patient person. I confess that your letters torment me; corresponding with you is an exercise in particularly painful frustration. I am currently fighting the urge to saddle my horse and ride day and night to Frell so I can demand an explanation.

Your letters are thoughtful, playful, funny, and interesting. You offer me incredible insights into my life and thoughts and experiences. I am always elated when a new letter arrives, but I inevitably end up disappointed. You share nothing of your day to day life with me, not really. This I do not mind; I am intrigued by the mystery of it, and enjoy guessing based on what little you do share.

You like me. You would not waste time or paper on a being you did not like. However, I think I have loved you since we met at your father's funeral. They were wet with tears as you stood, beautiful and remarkable, underneath a willow tree in the old castle's graveyard two years ago. But more than the beauty of your eyes, I was captivated by the soul in them, and have remained so ever since. They seemed to hold a thousand stories to tell, and to this day, I ache to hear them all.

I want to be with you forever and beyond, but you write that you are too young to marry or too old or too short or too hungry — until I crumple your letters up in despair, only to smooth them out again for a twelfth reading, attempting to read in between the lines for some secret meaning that I, ever the masochist, convince myself I will find, if only I am clever and resourceful enough.

I longed to confess my love for you since the night of your mother's wedding, when you told me you would not kiss me. I could not force the words out; you seemed so vulnerable and frightened. That moment was one of the most painful in my life. To see you hurting so much, and I did not know why or how to help. For all the power my status grants me, I felt like a centaur colt, stupidly staring and completely useless in the face of your pain. I felt terrible that I had caused you to feel in such a way, and I was so relieved when you seemed to recover soon after. Still, I longed to tell you of my feelings, but found myself a coward after such a botched attempt.

After spending a great deal of time in Ayortha, Father has become a fair deal more open minded. He often asks if there is a lady who has struck my fancy. I tell him no. It is a matter of pride; I do not want him to know of my affection if my feelings are not reciprocated.

I am certain that if you were to meet them, you would have Father, as well as Mother, Joey and Sydney, falling in love with you, just as I have.

I cannot even picture what our wedding would look like, because I know you would plan something far more immaculate and beautiful than I could imagine. I only know that I can imagine your face (which, I must confess, would be the only thing I would look at the entire time), fair and beautiful and radiant. What a wonderful wife you shall one day be, whomever you choose to wed, and at whatever age. And what a magnificent king, if I were lucky enough to be your choice! Who else has your voice? Your humour? Your wit? Your compassion? I could endlessly list all your virtues, but I'd rather omit them, in favor of you finishing this letter and responding just that much sooner.

I call upon whatever patience is left in me and anxiously await your reply.

Love (you cannot imagine the catharsis I feel to actually pen the word), love, a thousand times love,

Wally

OMMBBBMJKABFQQJLSB (Oh my Memily (PRS) Brill (KND) Bami (KND) Boah (KND) Jeslie (BtT) Klaine (Glee) Azimsky (Glee) Brittana (Glee) Finchel (Glee) Quick (Glee) Quartie (Glee) Jia (PRS) Lenny (BBT) Shamy (BBT) Barbin (HiMyM)) Did Wally just propose! I THINK HE DID! What will Kuki say? You will just have to review and find out!

We're going to the chapel and we're, gonna get married….. Hehe, that was on Glee when Finn and Rachel were going to get married…I cried yesterday during the episode...though I'm so glad that Klaine is okay now!

I am officially out of chapters, I only got to 19, I say we have oh... 5 maybe 6 chapters left? Depends...

So please review and I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as I possibly can.

Love,

LatinMagicWriter is on fire