One: This is not up to my usual standards, because I wrote it - the entire thing - in the middle of the night. I wanted to get it up for Claudette's contest, which I'm probably too late to enter now. Feel free to critique as usual, but know that this isn't my best work - there are a few sloppy spots. I might update the version later.
Two: There are a couple of iffy lines. I rated it PG-13, but if a mod decides it needs to be R, so be it. It's just a little bit of *implied* stuff so I didn't really think it was a big deal.
Three: It's based on a brothers Grimm story, which partially explains why it's so ridiculous. (The rest is just me.) The original is at http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/g/ ... er198.html
PSIhatewritingromancesothiswasabigstretchforme. kthxbai.
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It was almost noon, but the hall was still cloaked in shadow. The solitary source of light was from a small round window in the ceiling: it had once been stained glass, but years of sun had washed away all color. Now, everything in the room was washed in pale shades of gray and white, including the two men who sat at a chess table on a dais at one end of the hall. One was thin and dark-haired, the other was an elderly man whose silver crown rested low on his brow.
“Father.”
The king looked up. He had not noticed the pale figure of his daughter until now. She knelt on the carpet that ran the length of the hall, her flaxen hair shining in the half-light.
“Maleen.” The old man paused, licking his lips. He picked up an ivory bishop and examined it before placing it back down on the table with an audible clink.
She lifted her head slowly to meet his gray eyes. “I assume you know why I am here.”
“I do.” He shifted in the chair, his bony shoulders shifting as he lifted his head higher. “You are here because you are foolish. You know my answer already.”
She rose to her feet. “Have you no heart?” Her eyes flicked to the other figure at the table, who leaned lazily on his elbow and stared at the far wall.
“I have a heart. You have no sense. I will not agree to give your hand to any gallant young man who asks after it. This is not a matter for you to decide, Maleen.”
“Then it is not yours, either.”
“You question me,” he said, his eyes widening slightly. “I had expected more from you. You have always been the wisest of my children.” At this remark, the younger man raised an eyebrow, meeting Maleen's eyes for a fraction of a second.
“Do not try to flatter me, father,” she said.
The king picked up a white pawn and examined it in the dim light of the window. “You will marry Nathaniel of Dale, regardless of your personal fancies.”
Maleen exhaled slowly, running her fingers along the delicate silver chain at her neck.
“You must admit that it is a good match... isn't it, Arthur?”
“You're in check. Move the rook, Father.” He nodded toward the board.
“Yes, I suppose,” he said, disinterested as he moved the dainty piece across the board. He reached to the side of the table and rang a small crystal bell; immediately two servants emerged from a passage at the side of the room. “I believe it is time for Maleen's needlework lessons. I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to show her to her tutor's room,” he said, nodding toward them. “She has a tendency to become... distracted.” He pursed his lips and gestured at the board with his bony fingers. “And I believe that's checkmate.”
\
A giant stag galloped out over the tundra with dawn at its back, hooves beating in a steady rhythm against the frosty ground. Two figures clung to its back, and taller of which held the reigns. Perspiration wet his brow, and his long, dark hair had been tied back with ribbon.
“Arthur,” Maleen said, strengthening her grip around his waist, “why don't you ever speak against Father?”
“You do a fair job of defending yourself.”
“You're frightened of him,” she said. “You're my brother. You're meant to be my defender.”
“And that I am. But I'm your guardian, not your general.”
The sun began to peek over the horizon. Maleen turned to avoid the harsh morning rays.
“You're right. I expect too much of you.”
He shook his head, sighing. “We're almost there.” He nodded toward a tree in the distance. Maleen fell silent as they approached, regarding the figure standing underneath its branches with a sense of awe.
The foreigner was wrapped in a red cloak, a stroke of color against an otherwise nondescript canvas. He was tanned and dark-eyed, carrying a large burlap sack. His horse nudged silently at his arm, but he ignored it, gazing intently at Maleen as she dismounted.
“Hinda wants to graze. Whistle if you need me,” Arthur said, leading the animal into the distance. He gave the traveler a cursory glance before he turned away. The other two remained, staring as the prince faded into the distance.
“Daemien,” she said softly.
“I have missed you,” he murmured, pulling her gently toward him. She threw her arms around his neck and nestled her head underneath his chin. She inhaled deeply, comforted by the smells of foreign spices and perfumes.
“I've never been so confused.”
“I know. I'm sorry I pulled you into this.”
“Don't be,” she said, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I didn't expect him to say yes, but...”
“It was worth trying. When are you to be married to Nathaniel?”
“They haven't set a date.” She sniffed. “What do we do now?”
He hesitated. “Are you sure about this?”
“I'll follow you wherever you go.”
“My grandfather had a farm in L'reth. He left it to me when he died. It would be dangerous, but...”
She nodded. “You're proposing that we run away.”
“There's too much risk involved.”
“I don't care.”
“Listen, take this,” he said, pulling a thick blanket from the sack. “You look cold. I have bread, too.” He handed her a sizable chunk of rye.
“Thank heavens,” she said, breaking off a piece hungrily. “It's so much more filling than white bread.”
“Fairy food, I know. You would adore the food in the south, it's much more substantial.”
She paused in between mouthfuls. “I might not ever get there. Do you have any of this worked out?”
“I would send someone for you in three nights. You'll know. We would have to meet up with a caravan to Shivet in the city, otherwise your father could follow our tracks. I don't think he would guess that we might mingle with peasants.”
“I'm willing if you are.”
“Of course,” he said, reaching out to softly stroke her cheek with his fingers.
The sound of hoof beats broke the morning silence. They turned to see Arthur astride the tall animal.
“We should leave. It would be suspicious if father noticed our absence,” he said.
Maleen nodded, and turned solemnly to Daemien. “I'll see you in three nights, then.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
\
Maleen was dreaming silently, lost in ivory chess pieces and the smell of turmeric. Something brushed against her collarbone, lifting the silver locket. Alien fingers reached behind her head and unhooked the clasp, pulling the chain away. She sat up, startled.
“Who's there?” she asked gingerly.
“You are Maleen, friend of Daemien?” The voice was unfamiliar, but the tone was kind.
She exhaled in relief. “Yes.”
Someone lit a match, and a burly man seized her arm, dragging her out of bed. She could see her father's gaunt silhouette in the doorway.
“I am disappointed in you,” the king said. “You leave me no choice but to take rather drastic measures. Baldric, lead her to the carriage.”
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Somewhere far away,” he said. “It's not a farm in L'reth, but I do the best that I can.”
Maleen kicked and screamed as she was dragged to the coach, but her captors held her fast and gagged her with a cloth. She stopped struggling once she was deposited in the back seat of the carriage, limp with exhaustion. One of her maids sat near her head, gently stroking her hair. Her father sat across from her, staring at his daughter with cold eyes.
“Insubordination never pays off, my dear. It's all for the best.”
The days grew shorter as they traveled. Maleen was kept inside the carriage and was only allowed occasional glimpses of the outside world. She received meals if she remained silent, but was denied food if she showed any signs of protest. Often, she went to bed with an empty stomach, fighting hunger pains through the hours of the morning.
On a warm evening, Maleen was dragged from the carriage and into a clearing. The vegetation was far more lush than anything she had seen before, and amid the canopy of trees was a high white tower.
“This will be your home for the next year,” the king explained. “Hopefully some solitude will encourage you to rethink your priorities. Your maid, Mathilde, will remain with you, and a messenger will bring you food and any pertinent information from the castle.”
“You are a monster.”
“You still just as senseless and naïve. I am merely concerned about your welfare.”
Maleen shuddered.
The tower was small and cramped. There were only a few small rooms, and there was little space for the maid. As soon as the door was locked behind her, Maleen began to search for a method of escape, combing every wall and floor. However, none of the bricks could be removed – there was no plaster to chip away – and there were no windows and no doors aside from the one that she had entered through, which was far too heavy for one man to move. Food was delivered through a slat in the iron door that was far too small to provide an escape route. Days melted into weeks, and weeks melted into months.
\
“Maleen?” The voice was muffled, but still rang with a familiar timbre.
Maleen lifted her head from the straw pillow. “Arthur?”
“Thank heavens I've found you. Where are you? Shout again.”
“I'm here, in the tower.”
“I know that. I want you to stand clear of the southern wall, and don't go upstairs. Where is the maid?”
“She's next to me, sleeping.”
“She won't be for long. Won't be a minute.”
There was a long pause, and then an explosion. Maleen heard the damage before she saw it; a cloud of smoke filled the air. When the debris cleared, she could see a large hole in the wall opposite where she was sitting. The daylight was startling; she shielded her eyes. “What was that?” she asked.
Arthur stepped into view, wiping his hands on his breeches. “I haven't the slightest idea. Some sort of powder I bought from an Eastern trader. That was with only one match, mind you. Out of here, both of you – I doubt it's very stable now,” he said, nodding to Maleen's confused attendant as the two women hurried through the hole in the wall.
“It's so bright,” Maleen said. She wandered toward her brother and embraced him.
“You're terribly pale.” He choked on the words, and Maleen realized that he was crying.
“How long have we been shut up in there?” Mathilde asked, smoothing out the wrinkles in her apron.
“About seven months. I would have come earlier, but father avoided saying anything that hinted at your whereabouts. I tried to press it out of him, but he wouldn't budge.”
“Look, I'm sorry I wasn't completely appreciative of your efforts before – ” Maleen started.
“Don't worry about that now. We have a wedding to attend – Prince Daemien is to be married this afternoon to a young woman from Gyvench.”
Maleen's shoulders fell.
“It won't happen, Maleen. Not if we can help it. Come with me,” he said, whistling for Hinda. “Mathilde, there are three of our servants just outside this clearing waiting to take you back to the palace if you wish to go. If not, they will drive you into Shivet, and you may search for a new job there if you do not wish to be subject to my father's tyranny any longer.” The older woman nodded slowly.
“Shivet?” Maleen asked, her eyes widening.
“We're just outside of it,” he said. “That's the irony. Only a few miles away from his home, and he never realized.”
“Did he ever... did he ever look for me?”
Arthur laughed. “I forget that you've been locked in a tower. He combed the continent. Searched for you everywhere. This tower is in a valley, so it's nearly impossible to see. I'm not surprised that he never came across it. I only found it because it was marked on an old map as a peculiarity – a tower with no windows and only one door.”
“I still can't stand the light.”
“It will be better soon,” he said. “Trust me, it can only be better.”
\
Maleen shuffled in through the kitchen door of the palace at Shivet. Her clothes were sullied and old from months of wear, so she blended in easily with the servants. She sidled down numerous passageways, passing maids carrying plates of food or large bottles of perfume. If only she could find Daemien...
“You there, pale girl,” a stout woman said, seizing her by the elbow. “The bride needs help lacing her corset.”
“I was told to carry fresh linens to the prince's chamber,” she lied, struggling to free herself from the woman's grasp.
“Another servant has already seen to that. Are you always this slow? Poor little Dessa needs you more. She isn't the smartest girl they could have chosen,” she mumbled. “Nice, wide hips though. Good for child-bearing.” She herded Maleen into a large room and shut the door noisily behind her.
A pale, blond girl sat on a bed brushing her hair. She stared into a round mirror propped up against her pillows, and Maleen was could see in the reflection that she was very unattractive. Her features appeared to be pinched in a grotesque manner; Maleen felt a pang of pity for her.
“What are you staring at, harlot?” Dessa hissed, throwing down the brush. Maleen's last ounce of sympathy evaporated.
“I was sent to assist you,” she replied, noticing that the corset, dress, and veil were still neatly laid out on the bed. It appeared that she had not even attempted to dress herself.
“That is precisely what you shall do.” She stared out the window. “The people of Shivet want to see a beautiful woman. If I walked down the streets with my own face, I would be ridiculed. They would never forgive me for my ugliness.”
Maleen raised an eyebrow. “Truly, they are that critical?”
“You will don my clothes and walk in my place – parade down the street and into the temple,” she said, ignoring Maleen's comment. “After the ceremony, you will meet me in the garden, where the bride traditionally kisses her family goodbye. We will exchange clothes, and he will carry me over the threshold of his palace and to our marriage bed.” The imagery of this last expression made Maleen's stomach churn; she instinctively reached to her neck, but realized that her collarbone was now bare – just as it had been for the last seven months.
“I do not think I can accept such an honor,” she said. “I have other things to attend to.”
“Perhaps a little gold would persuade you otherwise?” the homely girl asked, producing a heavy velvet bag. Maleen recognized the clink of coins.
“No, I don't think so.” She moved toward the door. “Really, I must leave. I'll send someone else if you insist...”
Dessa sprang from the bed and jumped onto Maleen's back, knocking her to the floor. She grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, jerking her head backwards violently. Maleen felt the cool metal of a knife biting into her neck just beneath her chin.
“If you value your life, you'll do what I say.”
Maleen licked her lips. “As you wish.”
Dessa released her, and she flopped forward before she regained the strength to drag herself to her feet. She walked to the bed and began to undress. She stood naked for a moment before the spread of clothes, ignoring Dessa's critical eyes. Unlike the snowy bridal gowns of the northern lands, the dress was bright red, and was embellished with embroidery far richer than any needlework that she could have attempted herself. A small box sat at the corner of the bed; Maleen opened it and found two ruby gems – earrings far finer than anything she had ever seen.
“Hurry.” Dessa was already pulling Maleen's dress over her head.
In a matter of moments she was dressed in the bride's clothes. Her paleness was gone, replaced by a radiant glow: Maleen admired herself in the mirror, not entirely sure that it was her own reflection that she saw.
There was a knock on the door, and the voice of the stout servant woman sailed in. “Are you ready? The parade is waiting.” The door opened, and the older lady gazed at Maleen admiringly. “Beautiful. She looks nice cleaned up, yes?” she asked, and winked at Dessa, who frowned.
The rotund woman led Maleen through the corridors and out into the main hall. Nobles stared at her as she passed, whispering amongst themselves. Surely someone would notice that she was not the true bride – and then what? She followed the procession toward the temple, trying to avoid meeting the eyes of the strangers that lined the streets. Where was the prince? Would he even recognize her?
She stepped inside the temple and looked directly to the altar, quite unaware of the hundreds of people who lined the benches. Her eyes sought only one figure: Daemien stood at the head of the church, running his fingers through his hair nervously. Maleen, unused to seeing him distressed, was tempted to run forward and throw her arms around him. She bit her lip and pressed forward, maintaining her pace.
After a small eternity, she stood before the altar. Daemien extended his hand to help her onto the dais; she took it and squeezed his fingers as she stepped onto the platform. Their eyes met, and his expression melted from despair to disbelief.
“Maleen?” he whispered.
She nodded discreetly.
“How?”
“It's not important.”
The priest's voice droned on in the background, but there were few in the room who cared to listen. The service progressed until it was time to exchange rings; Maleen felt a chill run down her spine as Daemien slipped the gold band onto her finger, not sure if it was excitement or terror.
Daemien took her hands in his for the final blessing of the marriage, but Maleen's mind was elsewhere. If only she could make it back to the palace without crossing Dessa's path...
“Carry me to the palace door,” she whispered.
“I can't, Maleen. You walk through the garden alone.”
“I won't make it to the door.”
“A blatant breach of tradition would draw attention to you.”
The priest turned to the crowd, announcing the finality of the marriage. Applause filled the room as Daemien pulled something from his pocket: a silver locket on a chain. He fastened it around her neck before picking her up and carrying her to the temple steps.
“Where is Dessa?” he whispered in her ear. She turned to answer him.
“Lady Dessa!” A hysterical woman rushed to Maleen's side. “They're awaiting you in the garden,” she said, dragging Maleen away.
“Daemien,” she begged.
“Could it not wait a minute?” he mused.
“Absolutely not. The entire family is waiting.”
Maleen disappeared into the churning crowd of people and found herself at the entrance to the garden. As soon as the frantic woman had released her hand, she was seized by another force and dragged into the bushes. She turned to see a large, grimy man gripping her shoulders tightly.
“I suppose you thought you were making progress,” Dessa said as she stepped out of the servant's dress. “I saw the way you looked at him. You are a harlot if I ever saw one. Undress, or I'll have Marco do it for you,” she said, nodding toward the oafish man. Begrudgingly, Maleen stripped off the dress and handed it to Dessa. “The earrings as well,” she said, outstretching her hand to receive the jewels. “And the ring.” Maleen pulled the ring off of her finger and thrust it into Dessa's hand, who in return tossed her the grimy dress she had worn that morning. Once they were both clothed, Dessa nodded approvingly.
“Leave here,” she said, turning and sprinting away from the clearing.
Maleen fought through the crowd, making her way to the palace gates. She swore underneath her breath as she realized that Dessa had beaten her there, and was standing at the palace doors near Daemien. The prince was speaking to an older, bearded man, who Maleen recognized as his father, the ruler of Shivet.
“She is, quite obviously, not the woman I just married, and I'm not sure why she claims to be,” said Daemien.
“I must say that I agree, she looks nothing like the woman,” his father said, squinting at Dessa. “Are you playing a trick, young girl?”
“Never,” she gasped. “I have the ring. It is here, on my hand.”
“Golden rings aren't hard to find,” said the prince. “Do you have the locket?”
She hesitated. “Which locket?”
“The one I fastened around your neck just after the ceremony. Surely my bride has not lost it already?”
Maleen pushed her way through the murmuring crowd. “I have not!” she shouted, unhooking the locket from her neck and holding it in the air. It spun on the end of its chain, glittering in the afternoon sun. Daemien grinned.
“Someone, please, explain,” his father said, rubbing his brow.
“I am the true bride.” Dessa's face had flushed deep red. “I was ashamed of my face, so I forced the servant-girl to walk in my place. I am the true bride, as ugly as I may be, with or without a silver chain around my neck. That woman is but a snake!”
“Oh, but it matters not, Dessa.” A quavering voice rose from the back of the crowd. “You allowed her to walk in your place, and now she is his legal consort, regardless of prior arrangements.”
Daemien took Maleen's hand. “Is that...”
“My father,” she said, nodding.
The crowd parted as he stepped forward. “My daughter is, undoubtedly, the true bride of Prince Daemien. They were married in a legally binding ceremony, and there is little that anyone can do to contest it.” He made his way toward Daemien and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Many months ago, I was blind. I thought only of money. I thought only of politics. I thought of what was best for my kingdom, but never once about what was best for my daughter.” He paused. “Take care of her.”
“I will, your majesty. I assure you.”
The silver-haired king's lips crinkled into a sort of smile as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Maleen blinked back tears, Dessa sank to her knees and hid her face in her skirts, sobbing. The townspeople began to trickle into the streets again.
“It is true, then,” said Daemien's father. There was a long paused. “I must say, I am still a little unsure of what has happened. You are Maleen – King Elric's daughter, yes? Why do you wear peasant's clothes?”
“It's difficult to explain,” she admitted.
“Ah – yes, I suppose. Many things are. I will speak with you later, my son – and daughter-in-law. At the present time, I must deal with the registrar. He is very confused.” He excused himself and disappeared into the palace.
“The sun is setting,” Arthur murmured. He stood beside his sister. “Visit me every few years. I'll send you letters.” Maleen nodded and threw her arms around him, warm tears spilling down her face. He pulled away. “It's all over now.”
“Goodbye, Arthur.” she said. She stood, suspended in the moment as she dabbed at her eyes.
Daemien stood behind her; he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. They looked out on the gardens, now deserted. “I've dreamed of this day for years.”
“So have I.”
The golden disc of the sun sat on the edge of the earth, cradled between two hills. The sunset had painted the sky with various shades of orange, and they washed over the land, casting a warm glow over the city.
He paused. “It's just us now.”
“Just the two of us.” She turned to face him. “Alone.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. The sun dipped below the horizon, but they could still feel the warmth on their faces.
.
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