Into the Woods

Varied breezes skimmed over the garden, rustling through the blooming hedges and carrying their sweet scents across the lush grass. The silence truly was perfect, for even the wind made no sound. Did this have something to do with the strange circumstances surrounding the Prince, the castle, and the woods? Perhaps it was all due to the curse that Henry mentioned a month ago? Why else would even the sounds of nature reject this place and leave it isolated? The idea wasn't out of the realm of possibility considering that there was magic involved. The nightmare of the massacre did nothing to disprove it, what with the witch who could produce fire from her hands. The fact that typical woodland wildlife such as deer and squirrels were replaced with undead, flesh-eating monsters didn't help either. If ever there was a place that was under a spell, this was it.

Bella hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. As she pondered over this mystery, she couldn't help stealing glances at the Prince. "How exactly do you fit into all of this?" She observed his sleeping face with increasing curiosity. This was the most relaxed she had ever seen him; and he always seemed so tense in her presence. Some part of her dared to wonder if they hadn't perhaps overcome some boundary; although, another reminded her of the stressful night just past and that he was likely just too exhausted to care, completely disregarding the fact that he had carried her to that spot and stayed by her of his own accord. Movement on the edge of her peripheral caught the redhead's attention and she lifted her head to see Imogen. Relief washed over her at once and she stood to greet the excitable housekeeper.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Bella returned the woman's embrace, happy tears gleaming in her eyes. Imogen appeared just as relieved and happy, which could only mean that the others were alright as well. It lifted a weight from her shoulders to know that they were out of harm's way. Another glimpse at Jaron as her golden irises followed Imogen's. It had been her intention to wake him gently, but just as soon as she looked his way, he was gone. With the surprising speed at which he moved, he simply disappeared, displacing the air like the wind of an impending storm. The skirt of the nightgown billowed and fluttered around her legs. She didn't wonder at this very long.

"O-oh, um, well..." Her soft, murmurous voice rose in pitch until the last syllable dropped off on a strangled note. The events that unfolded after she left Imogen at the castle's front doors in search of the Prince flooded her mind's eye all at once. The image of his anguished, tear-stained face lingered before it. "I just woke up, actually." She smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck. Despite the peaceful sleep she got, she was admittedly still pinched but professed, "I don't know if I could sleep anymore, now."

Bella followed Imogen to the den, one of many she supposed the castle likely had. It was lavishly and richly decorated, as could only be expected based on the many rooms she'd helped clean on her first day there. She sank onto the luxuriant cushion of one side of the sofa, the brief silence that ensued as Imogen left to retrieve tea allowing her mind to wander. Where had the Prince vanished to? Why did he leave without saying anything? Was he avoiding her? It left a sour taste in her mouth. The tea was a welcome respite and she sipped it gratefully.

The tea was also an excuse to avoid conversation. She couldn't speak if she was sipping it. As such, the first cup of tea went quickly. That same guilt from the previous day that had her walking home after rushing out the door returned. The more she thought about it, sitting there idly running her fingers over the smooth china, the more she felt that what transpired was her fault. Perhaps if she had stayed, she could have prevented the Prince from trying to kill himself and take everyone else with him. A shiver of dread tingled and pricked its way up her spine.

"No, it's alright, really. You don't have to repay me or anything. I'm just glad I was able to help." Bella didn't look up from what little tea remained in the bottom of the cup. If anything, her help was more akin to repentance. "There isn't much about Valford that I loved for itself; and I couldn't uproot the life my family has made in Esterwell. They really love it there, even if it is a humbler life than we had before, it's still a happy one." She chewed the inside of her lower lip. "Please, don't make this harder..." There was a pang in her chest and her grip on the teacup tightened. Finally, she looked up at Imogen, eyes partially hidden by her copper fringe watching her drift off. "Besides, it's already too late. I can't go back now. I made a promise and, this time, I intend to keep it." A sorrowful, pained smile briefly flashed on her face as she set the cup down on the saucer and placed both back on the tray, careful not to wake Imogen as she slipped out of the den.

There was no way Bella would be able to sleep, no matter how comfy the couch or bed. She was far too restless to even be able to sit with nothing to occupy her. A book would have sufficed if she knew where to find one in this grand lap of luxury. While she didn't know exactly where to find what she was looking for, she had a general idea of where to go, heading back to the first floor of the West Wing where she had cleaned and shuffling listlessly from there. The amount of time spent meandering in search of the room was indeterminable, but eventually she came to the double doors, at least she was sure it was the right set of doors. The handle turned with ease and the door opened onto the room where she found the piano.

Bella visibly brightened and crossed the room to sit in front it. Her fingers grazed the smooth ivory; she tapped a key and a profound and ambiguous feeling overtook her. She poised her hands over the keys, wrists up, and let the
feeling flow through her fingers to resonate in its finely crafted frame.
 
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Just beyond the set of double doors that lead into one of the castles dozens of grand hallways, the hallways remained illuminated by an array of lanterns held to the wall by their golden fixtures, suited by design to be utilized indoors. They looked nothing like the drab sconces Bella had passed on her way to the piano. Everything in the castle from the golden fabric adorned across the walls to the copper carpets laid across the white-gold marble flooring appeared more vibrant than the Inverness she knew. Even the guards armors matched the decor as some stood fortified and others trekked up and down the hallways, chatting in idle passing. Down the corridors, through the main hall and across the east wing, Sophia sat beside her mother in the dining hall on one end of the long dining table, the howling winds of the fierce winter storm could be heard whistling just outside the brilliantly decorated walls that surrounded them.

It was always at this point in the evening when the dining hall was the most illuminated room throughout the entire castle. A variety of families and established folk had joined together for dinner, from Duchess's and Dukes to the Prince's most esteemed knights and professors, all of the aforementioned conversing with one another, some idly, others with pensive intent, all in an eloquent manner by the knowledge and wisdom each of them possessed and conveyed to one another as if they all spoke in a unique dialect unknown to the common person. Sat across the table from Sophia's mother was her father, who sat beside Jaron. A guard peeked into the dining hall's entrance from the conjoined hallway, relaying a message to another guard who occupied the space before it to preserve its integrity. That guard then relayed the message to the King, who then insisted Jaron investigate the matter which had reached them.


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"Her efforts show the intrinsic marks of a prolific writer." an older woman who sat beside Sophia gingerly commended the works she displayed that day, "That is only my first impression. She is a wonderful pleasure to talk with, as well." the Queen absorbed the woman's insights as they exchanged words in-between supple spoonfuls of Landon's richly flavored tomato soup; a simple yet crucially dainty treat that would precede the first entree of the evening to be served. Only someone of his capabilities in the kitchen could perfect such a paltry meal each time it were prepared, which aimed to excite the appetite. The Queen gestured to her daughter, "Sophia, offer your thanks to Gertrude for her kind remarks." Sophia nodded in the older woman's direction, smiling confidently.

"Thank you, Miss Gertrude." the child was shaken to her core by the commotion that could be heard from the kitchen, becoming visibly alarmed by what sounded like some kind of violent scuffle. The presence of the tall, gaunt man who showed himself into the dining hall was so daunting it made everyone's apprehension palpable to one another and sent chills up Sophia's spine, along with the commotion that could be heard within the kitchen. Sophia caught a glimpse of an equally daunting woman as the man entered the hall; she stood at the far end of the kitchen, just visible enough to make out her long pitch black hair. Merely the act of looking into her eyes even from afar a calamity in itself. As she began to unleash her blood-curdling shriek, Sophia let out her own screams. In that moment, the differences between shrieks of horror and shrieks of maleficent wickedness became clear to everyone in the dining hall against their own will.


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The mysterious woman of sky blue hair that reached passed her waist sat beside Sophia as the princess lay in her bed, having drifted back to sleep after drowsily fading in and out of consciousness as Imogen carried her from where she lay on the hard dining hall table onto her own mattress atop its comforter. Her breathing and temperature returned to normal, however she would still feel the affects of the fatigue from the previous night. How she hadn't succumbed to her raging fever that plagued her all night might have been a mystery, yet as the mysterious woman poured some odd concoction down the child's throat whilst lifting her upper body up, it was likely she had intervened in some way or another by her enigmatic talents.

She lay Sophia's head back down onto her pillow with one hand, performing nimble motions with her other as to manipulate the liquid down her throat and into her stomach without effort on the child's part, acquiescent or otherwise. She made no move to caress the girl as she lay in a fret, visibly experiencing some nightmare that was likely a manifestation of her minds trauma infiltrating her slumber, tears running down her closed eyelids. She would only find comfort once she was aroused from the dream back into waking reality, far from the vile figures that disturbed her. Sophia shot straight up and out from where she lay asleep screaming as she moved to cover her eyes with her hands, convulsing in terror, standing beside her bed before she knew it.


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The redheaded girl gulped down a full glass of water as she stood before the kitchen sink alone, proceeding to shoot back a couple more glasses before she gently placed an empty glass on the nearest counter-top as Tobias and Amarinda entered the kitchen. They each stood still as they glanced at each other in a similarly perplexed manner, unsure what to make of the previous night. Judging from their silence Sophia assumed they wanted her to speak first, so she did. "Where is everybody?" she asked, "Asleep, probably." Amarinda answered, "What happened to you?" Sophia strained her brows, assuming by their peculiar silence they had suffered just as she had, "Same thing that happened to you?" Tobias and Amarinda shot eachother a grave look.

Amarinda remained fixed on Tobias, who then turned to Sophia, looking as if she were poking fun at the both of them despite the redhead being obviously confused about everything that had occurred, until now. "You were in far worse shape than us." the boy claimed, "Your face was dripping." they had each experienced the same deadly fatigue, in a matter of fact. Sophia, being the youngest and therefore technically the weakest of them all, was more vulnerable and thus had reached the critical stages that plagued them all the fastest. Tobias nor Amarinda did not care to admit they had both fainted as well, likely due to a false sense of pride Sophia evoked in them as she often did being the youngest of them all. Unlike her elder counterparts, Sophia was never one to indulge in such pretentious behavior.

"Well," Sophia began, indifferent to whether or not she truly suffered the most out of everyone, "What happens now?" they all remained nervously silent, unable to feign how frightened they each were, unable to dictate their fates. The question was something of a formality as they were all well aware the future remained a daunting mystery. As they were all oblivious to the events that had unfolded that morning rescuing them from certain demise, Amarinda was the first to lash out in spite of their misfortunes, "Maybe Bella will come to save us?" she jested in a mocking tone, turning to look away from Sophia, shaking her head. Sophia frowned and to her dismay, remained silent, unable to retort in Bella's favor. "It's not like her to leave all of a sudden." Tobias remarked, "She's likely grown tired of us all."

The monarch butterfly fluttered out from the mysterious realm it must have disappeared into everytime it vanished, landing atop Sophia's head, instilling clairvoyant visions of Bella playing the piano into her mind.
"She's here!" the girl cried. Tobias and Amarinda frowned simultaneously, unsure what to make of Sophia's sudden jolt of delightful excitement, especially as she whirled her head around, her hair twirled and bounced off of her shoulders as she took to a light jog for the door. "Where are you going?!" Tobias cried. "She's messing with us." Amarinda declared confidently, which was likely the case. However, Tobias had noticed a glint in her eye that he rarely got to witness, something of pure joy and fascination that only showed itself whenever Bella was around. With that, he pressed on in pursuit, "Tobias!"

They rounded the corner of the west wings corridor, that familiar dim grey desolateness having returned to the castles interior as opposed to the welcoming appearance of its walls, floors and bright lanterns held to the walls by their golden fixtures from Sophie's dream that portrayed its original state. Tobias and Amarinda crossed the hallway as Sophia gently pushed the double doors open, sending meticulous and refined musical notes into the air with each nimble pressing of the pianos keys. She hesitated to open the doors completely, awe-struck by the sight of Bella who had returned far earlier than what was expected of her. "Rubbish." Amarinda opined at the sight from behind Sophia, brushing passed the redhead through the double doors with Tobias in suit.


"Bravo!" Amarinda cried, clapping fervently, her tone of expression betraying her applause and condemning smile. She stood beside the piano, gesturing to Bella like she were selling her in an auction, "Behold, the pianist in pajamas! She plays like an aristocrat and dresses like a drunkard in the morning!" Tobias stood a ways behind Bella and the piano, seemingly indifferent to Amarinda's making sport of her, although some part of him must have been just barely amused as he made no effort to address her jesting or inquire why Bella was playing piano by herself, in a nightgown nonetheless, feeling embarrassed enough to purse his lips that he should see her in the attire.

Amarinda tilted her head, looking Bella over head-to-toe with an exaggeratedly puzzled expression, "Looks like you've made yourself quite at home." she glanced at Tobias and Sophia, "Are you rehearsing? Is there a surprise ball tonight?" she brought a hand up to her mouth, feigning excitement, "Will the Prince be there? I hear tell he's been in quite the sour mood. Surely a pianist in pajamas will do well to lift his spirits." Sophia stomped into the room, placing herself between Amarinda and Bella, "Are you done?" she reproached a smirking Amarinda, clenching her fists. "You made the Prince drink, didn't you?" Tobias asked, quickly losing interest in Amarinda's jesting. He noticed a pair of fresh marks on Bella's arm, not bothering to hide the fact he was nearly gawking at them. Sophia and Amarinda followed Tobias' gaze, suddenly unable to take their eyes off the marks, bewildered at the sight of them. A beaming smile crept up a wide-eyed Sophia's cheeks as she leapt onto the bench and flung her arms around Bella, "You saved us!" Amarinda fell solemn and dubiously quiet.
 
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Very much like the first time Bella played the piano on her first day at the castle, she was far too engrossed in the music to realize that she had company. The double doors that confined the heartfelt song to that room didn't make enough noise, if any noise at all, to have overpowered the sound of the grand instrument. The last of the somber notes drowned out the children's footsteps as another song had masked Henry's. Her fingers remained on the keys, as if at any moment she might play again; her amber eyes staring into the abyss within the satin finish of the piano's black casing. Quite unlike the first time, she wasn't startled; although, she was surprised by the outburst of condescending and jaunty applause. This time, she remained seated. No pianos or their benches were harmed.

Amarinda's remarks were met with a queer sort of empty look that might have left her wondering if the words even registered in the hobbyist pianist's mind. Initially, Bella didn't have any intention of entertaining Amarinda with a reaction. She had heard, and was often the subject of, a fair share of comments like those while she lived in the city. The girl's mention of the Prince appeared to strike a nerve; however, for Bella's pale brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed into what might have been an effective glower if the children weren't accustomed to seeing the Prince's violent expressions. It was too soon to joke like that considering that the Prince's 'sour mood' nearly killed everyone there. Was this child even aware of his pain to be able to say that? The realization hit the copper-haired redhead: No, they mustn't have had any clue how the Prince really felt. Her visible anger was gone in a flash, as if it had never been, replaced with her usual soft smile.

"It's alright." A slim hand reached out to touch Sophie's shoulder in a reassuring pat. Bella opened her mouth to jest in return but Tobias's question shattered the delicate facade. Her face fell. He might as well have grabbed her arm and waved it around the way all their eyes were drawn to the bite marks. She cast her gaze uncomfortably on the ivory keys where her other hand rested. "Made" him? That was perhaps not the most appropriate way to describe that particular detail of the events that unfolded in those wee morning hours. There was no way a simple girl such as she could make the Prince do anything. She mulled this over briefly and shook her head. The smile returned, but there was a sadness behind it that she couldn't hide.

"No, I just convinced him." Bella corrected gently, her discomfiture palpable even as she embraced Sophia. "Well, if it wasn't for Imogen, I wouldn't have known you were in trouble. So be sure to show her some gratitude, too, okay?" She rubbed the child's back, her guilt returning. It didn't feel like she saved them; it felt like the entire ordeal was her fault. She bit her lip. "I, I'm sorry for leaving like that. Perhaps if I had stayed, things would have turned out differently? I won't leave again, though; I promised I'd stay, for the Prince and for you." Tears filled her eyes until they sparkled like new glass and she blinked them away. The air had cleared so it seemed and they could move on from the subject.

"Amarinda is right; I should get dressed. It's not proper to stay in a nightgown all day." Standing from the bench with a wink, she swept the children before her and ushered them out into the corridor. "You all should probably change, too. You look like you slept in your clothes." A little teasing smile accompanied her playful tone. "Why don't we make it fun? Pick any room and we'll pick from the wardrobe there." Bella's smile stretched into a grin as she turned to Sophie. If anyone would be entertained by the idea, it was surely her. She could recall vividly the days in Valford where she and Celine would play in dresses far too big for them, found in various wardrobes, and host grand tea parties in the spare rooms. "Maybe after that, if Landon doesn't mind, I can show you how to make my favorite treat from when I was your age."
 
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Sophia rested her weight onto Bella as she clung to her, nearly dozing off when their pianist began to rub her back. She paid no mind to how Bella managed to pull her brother out of his severe angst or how Imogen found the courage to seek out her aid. Her promise to stay simply made Sophia more elated which she found to be utterly delightful, she was already considerably enthusiastic about her being there. She perked up as Bella proposed what was some kind of game or activity, especially since her peers never thought to encourage anything so humorous. Amarinda only felt compelled to continue condescendingly berating the two redheads, "Sure, let's rummage through the belongings of the deceased who were wickedly slaughtered." She hesitated to speak her thoughts aloud, for hers and Tobias' families were among the victims who saw their last evenings in the castle and left the rooms barren of life.

"I know, this way." Sophia lead them through the west wing into a particular room, "The light," she gestured Bella to the unlit candles she couldn't reach in their sconces, revealing racks of various clothing by the collective light from their flames. In the corner of the room were dividers, their screens made of fabric to conceal someone while they changed. A thin oval mirror stood at the far end of the room beside a dressing table with beauty boxes laid across its surface. "Enjoy your meandering." Amarinda, unable to hold her tongue any further, poked fun at the two redheads one last time, proceeding to turn around and walk back into the hallway. She stopped at the doorway to look behind her, "Tobias?" the boy turned round indifferently as he was called and followed in suit out the door. Sophia ignored Amarinda, proceeding to a rack of thick, mosaic coats that were more than twice her size. She gingerly sported one of them before proceeding to a different rack, hanging different colored blouses onto her arm that formed a decent pile.

As various clothing lay riddled around her the redhead settled to keep on her black wristbands that were not concealed by a black short-sleeved blouse that split down the middle of her neck, tucking the bottom into a thick navy blue skirt with smooth edges and no buttons or laces around the waist. Having decided on the beginnings of an outfit she sat on the accumulated pile of clothing strewn on the floor around her, stretching her bare legs across the floor as she rocked her feet back and forth against each other. Amusement began to impel her eyes upward to observe Bella. Her presence brought Sophia a familiar element that forced everything to become intriguing when she was around. She enjoyed it more than she understood it, wanting nothing more than to explore the extent of what her curiosity would devise, which felt boundless at times, driven by unceasing gratification. "You said you're staying?" she asked, not withholding how her heart was obviously inclined to feel about the matter of her living with them. She recalled her mentioning a promise that seemed to be something of a sentimental commitment. Unclear of what exactly had occurred last night to cause her sickness, she wondered what the terms of the promise consisted of and especially who she pledged it to and why.


"Will you be my sister?" the redhead imposed the question in a brazen display of her affection for and reliance on her redheaded counterpart. She wasn't sure whether to expect an immediate answer or not, "Do you love my brother? Is that why you promised to stay?" With each question as shameless as the next, Sophia's naivete glistened through her bright hazel eyes. It seemed clear to her that Bella would not have saved them if she didn't intend to break the curse. She figured they nonetheless wouldn't have survived if they were not fated to be free from the magic that haunted Inverness, surely Bella was meant to release them from their wicked misfortunes. It all appeared very obvious to Carthya's princess.
 
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Had Amarinda voiced her snarky witticism, Bella may have thought twice about her suggestion. She may have even felt a bit guilty; then again, they weren't doing any harm to the belongings of the former castle dwellers and they weren't doing so to disrespect anyone. The clothes were there and, without anyone to claim them, they were free game. It seemed more than reasonable. Besides, while the children all had clothes of their own to pick from, Bella did not. She had nothing of her own but the boots she stepped into that morning with bare feet. The nightgown wasn't hers to begin with. As the young Duchess kept her comment to herself, that particular point need not be made.

"Right. If we're going to be glamorous, we should at least see what we're doing." Her grin was barely visible in the dark room, as was the sconce in front of her face. Feeling around the fixture of plain hammered bronze, Bella nimbly searched for a match with which to light the candles. Keeping matches with these fittings was a common practice back in Valford, so candles could be lit as necessary once it got dark without the need to go searching for a means of lighting them. Her fingers found the little paper package, she pulled one out and struck it on the bottom of her shoe, and lit the candles. The room glowed in the warm, flickering light of the flames; the mirror on the far end of the room serving not only to see one's reflection, but to catch the light and multiply it. A soft "wow" escaped at the sight of the room and its vast array of clothing choices. Amarinda and Tobias were dismissed and the door closed behind them.

Bella stood before the racks, a perturbed scowl on her rosy pale face. Her hands rested on her hips, fingers drumming in apparent agitation. For all the countless dresses, there were none that really suited her particular tastes. Each one was stunning and beautiful, crafted with the utmost care for every small detail from the color to the material to the embellishments. The problem was that they were too gorgeous. They lacked the simplicity the redhead favored in her own clothes. She shot a glance at the mirror, observing her reflection with equal annoyance. She donned a pair of black pants that sat high up above her natural waist with an off-white loose-fitting blouse with lace at the throat and on the cuffs of the flowing sleeves. To have put on men's clothes was a joke more than anything, meant to amuse the little girl. Now, as she thought about it, she was tempted to simply wear them in spite of the remarks she would inevitably receive in response. They were simple clothes in terms of style, lacking the sparkling jewels and beads and bobbles of the women's dresses. In the end, her own insecurity won out and she continued to scour the racks.

"Oh, yes. I am." She turned to smile at Sophia where she sat on a pile of clothes. Oh, to be young and not care what your dress looked like! Bella plucked a dress off the rack, holding it up to get a better look at it. It was by far the simplest dress she had seen: a tea-length long-sleeve
dress of royal blue crushed velvet with an ivory yoke with lace detailing. There was lace of the same ivory color at the cuffs of the sleeves and embroidered just above the hemline of the skirt. A little bit of lace on the underskirt poked out from beneath it. The collar and cuffs had shiny gold buttons; there was a golden broach affixed where the yoke met the bodice. The dress dropped several inches as her attention was forcibly torn away from it by Sophia's question. Her heart must have skipped a beat for she exhaled a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Dress still in hand, she crossed the room to hang it on the mirror and sat in front of the Princess.

"I would like that very much." Bella nodded, beaming. A little sister was something she'd always wanted growing up; the loss of her mother and her father's lack of remarriage robbed her of any such possibility. Her smile faded with the next question and her cheeks flushed. "Uh, um, your.. brother.. ah, how do I..?" She muttered, searching for some sort of explanation that would make sense to a child. "Your - ahem - the Prince is indeed very, um.. handsome, but I honestly don't know how I feel about him. You see, I don't know him very well; I haven't really gotten the chance to, so I can't say one way or another." The more Bella explained, the more she relaxed. "I promised to stay because, well, I think he was lonely and it might do him some good. Ah, but keep that a secret between us, okay? I'm just here to help in whatever way I can." Feeling like she had dodged a disaster, she stood and took the dress behind the screen. She paired it with some ivory stockings and her boots.

"Are you ready, then?" She asked as she stepped out, stooping to pick up an armload of the clothes to return to the rack. There was no sense in leaving a mess for Imogen to have to clean up. While the child finished, Bella put the clothes away; and when they were ready to go, she blew out the candles. "How about some breakfast?" She offered, starting down the corridor on the way to the kitchen. She was hungry but also eager to see how Landon was doing. "Do you like cinnamon buns?"
 
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The most Sophia could gather from Bella's delicate answers was that she were being polite, which she could have expected. She could not fathom Bella's modest approach to everything or why she seemed to be so reserved about her own feelings even when she had a percipient grasp on them. There was nothing about it that warranted complaints, however. Bella's manners made her easy to confront and made for pleasant company, albeit how she seemed to often feel out of place in their company, especially, or how sometimes it made her an easy target for ridicule.

Getting to the bottom of how and why she felt certain ways about things or herself was simply difficult for most folk; Sophia was not confused about that particularly, something about the way Bella looked and talked to her made her feel like they had known eachother their whole lives. All she could understand was that Bella didn't say '
no' outright so to her that was half a yes, surely she would realize sooner or later her brother was merely an afflicted soul that just needed to be gently nurtured in the right direction. Once she's discovered her minds ability to weave fields of roses from thorns, Sophia might ask her once more and be met with a full 'yes', that is what Bella's politely judicious response convinced her to be true. How could someone with such a big perceptive heart not be able to see passed the Prince's harsh exterior? It all still appeared very obvious to the girl.

Sophia laid sprawled out atop the clothes pile as Bella took her dress behind the dividers, having completely forgotten of Bella's proposal for a treat of some sort. She didn't notice the style of dress she had picked out, assuming it was another odd looking piece of attire meant to amuse her. Judging by her blushed cheeks she must have felt embarrassed by some of Sophia's questions because she had taken to wearing something she was more seriously inclined to be seen in. She likely felt the dress was in line with her own tastes, as well. Either way she must have wanted to avoid any further questions about the Prince and began to pick up after the girl. Sophia began to scour each corner of the room until she found several boxes of undergarments, some of which were her size. It was in line with proper etiquette she concealed her legs with stalkings, but having just experienced the worst fever in her life she preferred to leave them exposed to the air, choosing to wear a pair of ruffle frilly cotton laced ankle socks with her low heel buckle strapped shoes that exposed most of the top of her feet.

Sophia closed the door to the dressing room behind them, trotting the length between her and Bella until they walked side by side. The mention of breakfast did not immediately leave the girl famished as she was still recovering from her fever, she might have preferred to run off the excitement of Bella's company, or something light, at least. "Cinnamon buns...?" She recalled how they hadn't been on the first floor of the west wing together since they briefly played hide and seek some time ago, when she would soon return home for the first time. Although she was left with quite a solemn expression about the face as she absorbed Bella's take on her staying and relationship to the Prince, one could make out her excitement for the future in every step she made beside Bella, even taking to prance and skip to rejoice their short trip to the east wing. If Bella were to catch her eye, her face would surely light up like fireworks; Bella's being the flame that ignited them. Should her bright demeanor diminish, it would only take another glance from her sister to light it once more. 'Almost sister', she thought sounded more appropriate, or rather technical. "Is that what they call pound cakes in Esterwell..?"


Henry and Landon sat at the kitchen dining table attempting to revive themselves after having scraped by last nights grimly affair. Henry still had a bandage wrapped around his head and seemed to have retired from his armor, at least for the time being. He sat opposite of the door leading into the east corridor, the handle of his spoon audibly clinking against his bowl as he stood surprised once Bella and Sophia entered. Landon looked over his shoulder, grinning as he turned to glance at Henry, "At ease, soldier." he jested. Henry approached their special guest, holding his hand to his chest as he bowed his head and frame slightly, "Miss Montagne." his face lit up at the sight of Bella, "So Imogen reached you, then? We haven't seen her since she left." Sophia intervened Henry's greeting, stepping right up to the burly man, his large frame towering over the two redheads, "Why don't we ever make cinnamon buns?" she asked sternly as her pale brows furrowed and she pursed her lips.

"We? Cinnamon buns..?" If not for the close call they all faced that morning, Henry would have surely brushed off Sophia's uninvited question, which the girl only found the courage to ask thinking Bella would back her up. Henry rested a robust hand atop Sophia's head which seemed even larger without his gauntlets, he smiled just as warmly to their Princess, "We don't make anything, Landon does the making. You eat everything. If you're hungry, Landon made enough porridge for everyone." after having carried a terrifyingly hot Sophia downstairs from her bedroom and spending the entire night checking to make sure she was still breathing, he wanted nothing more now than to see her happy and in good health. The last time he saw her she was, in fact, still sweating profusely amongst her unconscious short breaths.

Having registered the fact there was only porridge to eat, Sophia couldn't keep from sticking her tongue out and scrunching her face in opposition to the food. She sat beside Landon, holding a steady gaze towards him thinking he might take her somber expression as some kind of plea. She was tempted to reveal it was Bella who had put the idea of cinnamon buns in her head, but didn't want to embarrass her further. Choosing
not to embarrass her was, however, a fleeting commitment and subject to change at any given moment, especially since they had neglected to reveal the existence of the sweet roll delicacy to her.
 
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Was there a difference, philosophical or otherwise, between being a younger sister or an older sister? Having grown up with an older sister, Bella didn't really think so. She supposed that an older sister was someone who looked out for the younger, who offered advice as best she could, was always a friend and could keep secrets. It sounded simple enough, yet something stood out that the life-long younger sister couldn't put her finger on. The love she felt for Celine, and like-wise for her father and brother-in-law, was somehow different than the profound affection she had for the child trotting along next to her. Was it merely because she hadn't spent her whole life with Sophie as she had her own flesh and blood? Was it perhaps not a sisterly love but something else entirely? Did Celine feel the same way about Bella as Bella felt about Sophia? As she explained the difference between pound cakes and cinnamon buns, she considered this. The child's smile when she looked down at her made up her mind. It didn't matter. She would do her best to be a good sister.

"Oh, um.." Bella offered a tight-lipped smile, trying and failing to act natural in her surprise at Henry's gesture. Her first instinct was to tell him that he needn't be so formal; she wasn't royalty. Then again, it occurred to her that it might come off as very rude and she didn't like to offend him. Sophie's interruption forced a laugh from her, enabling her to relax. She picked up where Henry's question left off. "Yes, I'm glad she did. I think she may still be asleep in the den where she brought me tea. She must be exhausted; I'm sure you all are." The grim question of how bad things actually got lingered unspoken in the air. She hadn't thought to check on anyone else when she barreled through the castle on her way to the Prince; there hadn't been time. A part of her wasn't sure she wanted to know, though she could guess, and she didn't like it.


"Sorry, perhaps I oughtn't have mentioned them." With a sympathetic half-smile to the blond chef, the subject was changed. Whether this was on purpose or not was arguable. Leaning across the table, Bella exchanged glances between Landon and Sophie, who was now pleadingly staring up at him like a puppy. "Tell you what, if you're hungry, go ahead and have some porridge. If Landon doesn't mind the intrusion, I'll make the cinnamon buns, but they do take a while." Her gaze rested finally on the chef. It was his kitchen, after all. With consent, she donned an apron, so as not to dirty the lavish dress she borrowed, and set to work compiling the ingredients. Before starting, too, she rolled up the long sleeves, the awkward occurrence with the children regarding the bite mark not once crossing her mind.

"It's not a complicated or extravagant recipe or anything, but I hope you'll like them." Bella mentioned with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. The origin of the recipe was a mystery that she wasn't sure was known even to the woman who taught it to her. Whether or not a cinnamon bun was a treat appropriate enough to serve to a princess, she had no clue. Her governess was not a chef, so the cinnamon buns she made were by no means beautiful; however, they were delicious regardless of how misshapen they sometimes turned out to be. Bella did put forth a little bit of effort to make them look presentable, rolling the sheet of dough with cinnamon and finely chopped pecans with utmost precision, and making sure it was cut evenly. Once they went into the oven and the glaze was made, she sat down to wait at the table. It wasn't long before the sweet, flaky goodness was plated and passed around.

To be in the kitchen, conversing lightly, served to make Bella feel more at home. That feeling of family from before came back to her, mixed with the nostalgia of the warm, sticky buns. She could almost forget the abject terror and general misery of the past two days. Briefly, she wondered if the Prince wouldn't like the rolls, as well. Perhaps she could set one aside for him to give to him later? Then again, she had no idea where he'd disappeared to from the garden. No, it was a foolish idea. Surely, he wouldn't be interested in anything she had to offer him. What if it could lift his spirits, like it had for her? She could only give it a try.
 
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As Bella had set in motion the process of prepping, baking and mixing in accordance with the peculiar pastry's recipe, the kindred spirit between the royal attendants entered a new dynamic, as it always did in the young forge house dwellers presence. Rekindled, rather, by the kindness of her own spirit. Whereas the grown men of the castle would make small talk simply to occupy the passing of time between them more so in line with mannerisms than any kind of bond distinctly formed from the formalities of their alliance in face of their wicked misfortunes and their duty to the kingdom, Bella invigorated these mannerisms with new life. The more she came around, the more a future beyond a vile death or eternal confinement appeared less as great a fantasy as witches and curses once seemed to be. Her arrival was nearly as inconceivable as the powers that ruined what made their lives worth living; it was magic in a new dynamic.

Now Bella was not only there with them safe and sound, she seemed to be making herself at home more than ever, which had even taken Landon by surprise. The chef was just relieved to be returning to good health, yet he noticed something different about the young forge house dwellers attitude. She was, after all, rather inept at keeping her feelings from being written all over her face. Might it be a certain inflection in the voice or perhaps her body language that informed Landon of the fact she seemed unusually vibrant? He didn't think her idea to prepare sweet rolls for them had anything to do with the enthusiasm she emitted in doing so, the latter rather seemed to influence the former. She was too enigmatic for capricious bouts over something as simple as cinnamon buns, even as pleasant they were.

Landon assumed she was just happy to find respite in sharing the treat with them after the distress of the past couple days. He only wondered how long it would be until she returned home again, unbeknownst to the promise she made. Rather than point out Bella's commitment to them, Sophia figured they would find out soon enough on their own and clung to her sisters side, patiently observing every little detail involved in preparing the cinnamon bun that would be served to her to no disappointment in the slightest amount, having begun to nearly inhale her portion after the first bite. Neither Landon or Henry would inquire just how long Bella intended to remain at Inverness and were simply happy to have recovered thanks to the success of her efforts, which they felt did not warrant any explanation. This was an unspoken understanding between the two royal attendants, just as the magic in Bella's presence and the hope she instilled.


"Sophia, go join your cousins, would you?" Henry gently insisted to the girl as he walked the cobblestone path into the rose garden with her and Bella. She made no effort to protest Henry's behest, but did halt their promenade by squeezing Bella by her waist seeing as she was only about half her height. Sophia embraced her briefly, silently complying as she turned and barreled off the beaten path to the gazebo where Amarinda and Tobias sat, as they often did. Henry sighed, amused by Sophia's boundless zeal, "She might be more fond of you than sweets and sugar." They continued down the cobblestone path inbetween the hedges, passed the rose riddled archways and water fountain. Henry had agreed to Landon's idea to introduce Bella to the rest of their horses in the stable. The further down the garden they progressed, the bushier and weedier the surrounding hedges and patches of grass became, "I try tending to the land as much as I can, but sometimes it's a lot of work for just Landon and myself, having to look after the stables and everything else." Henry thought to mention, apparently somewhat embarrassed.

The stables appeared in better condition than the far end of the garden, only housing three horses out of the twelve stalls available. Dullahan's platinum mane and wheat colored head stuck out from the first stalls window by the stables entrance. "I believe you've met Dullahan." Henry thought aloud, rubbing the pale yellow horse by his neck, just below the mane, "Ah, I hope you didn't give Imogen and Bella a hard time." He thought aloud. "That's Piper, our only girl. She's about 13," he gestured to the maroon appaloosa female with a brown mane and white maroon blotched coat at its tail end. Just across Piper was a fully black thoroughbred, the smallest of the three. Henry crossed towards him, holding him by the chin as he pet the side of his face, "this is Fritz, our youngest. He's only five, or about to be five. He was meant to be a birthday gift for the Prince, but he hasn't been out here since before his...alteration. So we let the kids ride him." Henry assumed a solemn expression, not looking away from Fritz's black eyes as he spoke, "Have you seen the Prince, by the way?" he turned to Bella, hesitant to pursue the line of questioning, "Is he alright?" judging by how somewhat airy Bella seemed to be, there didn't appear to be any signs that warranted concern. Still, Henry couldn't help being curious why that was now suddenly the case, given the gravity of callous emotion Jaron displayed through the night, although it was not unlike him to isolate himself. There was a good chance they might not see him for days, a fact Henry wasn't very inclined to share.
 
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The afternoon sun was warm, too warm for a dark-colored dress with long sleeves made of such a heavy material as velvet. It was the middle of summer, yet the inside of the castle was cool enough that such a garment would be comfortable. If the bright rays beating down on the trio walking amongst the blooming hedges made the young former aristocrat uncomfortable, well, it wasn't very obvious. In fact, she appeared most comfortable, perhaps even more so than she had in the kitchen. She smiled, taking in all the beauty that the garden had to offer for the first time. Then, she did come from the largest city on the southern coast, where the summer often was hot enough to cook an egg on the paved stone roads. This was all quite familiar to her and felt rather like she was in the garden that enclosed the rear of the Montagnes' former city chateau.

The land within the castle walls was far more expansive than Bella first thought. It hadn't occurred to her that morning how much ground she actually had to cover in order to reach the Prince just crossing the garden. It was far larger than the garden she walked in Valford; this garden could have fit the other within it a hundred fold. To think that Henry and Landon maintained all of this, just the two of them! It was an astonishing feat, even if it meant they didn't get to the extended land beyond the garden gate as often as they might have liked. It painted a new part of their picture, taking what might have seemed to most to be a flat image of this place and those who dwelled in it and giving it more dimension.

"He was great. If not for him, we might not have made it in time." Bella praised the pale-colored horse, petting his nose. Longing for her dappled gray stallion panged in her chest and she fought the urge to bury her face in Dullahan's mane. The black beauty she remembered from cleaning the stables with Imogen her first day there, for he captivated her then as he did now. She stared long into his dark eyes and stroked his neck, almost as if having a silent conversation with him. "Birthday?" Her brow raised at Henry, as if it had never crossed her mind even once that the Prince had such a common thing as a birthday. Well, truthfully, it hadn't. Her own birthday was nearly three months away. When was the Prince's? She would have asked, but a far more important question had to come first.

"So.. the Prince likes horses, then?" It was funny to think that she could have any sort of common ground with the Prince and the amusement showed clearly in her eyes until Henry inquired about the young man. "Well, I'm not sure." She answered with apparent hesitation. "I haven't seen him since this morning. He, we-- Imogen came and found us in the garden. He was asleep; he looked.. peaceful. She brought a parasol. I was going to wake him, but before I could, he was just gone." Feeling there were too many holes in her explanation, Bella recalled the events of the hours before and leading up to dawn to Henry. If there was anyone who needed to know, it was he. She told him even about the night prior and about the promise she made. The promise itself wasn't a secret, only what she - foolishly, she supposed - told Sophia in the dressing room. Besides, they would all find out about it sooner or later, since she wouldn't be leaving. There were a few things she left out, such as the fact she threw rocks at the Prince and that he cried in her arms. The former wasn't really important, though she worried it might upset Henry; and the latter wasn't for her to tell.

"He seemed to calm down after that, but I can't say how he is now. I don't even know where he went." Bella finished lamely with a sheepish, apologetic smile. While she couldn't answer Henry's question directly, she hoped she at least gave him enough information to deduce for himself based off of his long relationship of service how the Prince might be. He also stood the best chance of locating the Prince and seeing for himself.
 
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Judging by Fritz's abrupt yet soft nickering, he might have noticed Henry had become distracted by his concerns about the Prince, preventing any further patting. Every little bashful detail Bella could offer about how she somehow managed to reconcile Jaron from death seemed to make even the sound of air funneling through Fritz's big round nostrils quieter than usual, as Henry gradually ceased to continue patting the thoroughbreds face. Having become so enthralled in Bella's recollection of the passed morning and the profundity of how she let them cheat death, Henry could hardly think of more than a few instances besides now when his vulnerability could so easily supplant that gritty stalwart exterior of his Bella had reluctantly come to know when they met; thus, he really did feel a slight jump in his chest by Fritz's harmless nickering.

Having his attention focused back on the horse did serve to calm the mans nerves, though, especially as he gazed into Fritz's dark eyes.
"Alright, then." he wondered if it was obvious how riveting he found Bella's explanation to be. It was a lot more than what he asked for but certainly everything he wanted to hear and more. So Bella would stay, then. Had he known she had backed out of their agreement the night prior, it might have shaken his faith, but the man wasn't so inane that he couldn't tell the difference between an agreement and a promise and then still, what choice did Bella ever have in the first place? Had she refused to cooperate, the Prince might have just locked her away, or worse.

Henry would have been the one to drag her family from their homes, too. An uneasy feeling crept upon him he could not describe. For one, he had nearly forgotten less than two days ago the Prince and his self carried a soaking Liza into their workshop, who had surely gone into shock by that point. Now he wondered if the Prince might ever even speak to him again, let alone punish him for insubordination. He also wasn't too worried of the Prince possibly not returning from wherever he was, as his disappearances are a regularly occurring thing, but Liza's uncanny turning and the Prince's episode in succession begged the question; why would their streak of misfortunes end now?

Henry was just grateful for the respite Fritz's gentle eyes provided and being able to live and breathe another day to see them. Clearly time and energy was best spent moving forward, despite those ever reaching and grimly bleak undertones that surrounded every corner inside Inverness, coating the very air they breathed with thick layers of desolate boredom and nothing. He knew he could count on Imogen and Landon to make sure Bella wouldn't notice or be pushed away by the grim layers across every floor, wall and ceiling as much as the rest of them were, she should nevertheless feel at home and welcome living with them, especially whilst providing services to a Prince of all people. Then with Bella, too came the pleasantries of new validations and the joy a fresh mind and pair of eyes brought to their home, breathing life into their isolated world. "We'll find him then, together. Couldn't have gone too far." even if their burly champion knew he was making a dubious claim, there was no choice but to believe in it. That was the mentality that came with taking in everything one day at a time; all was lost without faith.

"Your family must have great patience and self control." they made their way up the subtly spiraling set of stairs from the dining hall to the second floor of the east wing. Henry had felt a strong desire to ride Dullahan through the plains and would have suggested it if not for the effort Bella had put in her outfit, despite her own labor friendly boots. He found their combined efforts to find the Prince and the new light in Bella's promise to be gratifying though, too and was happy to oblige showing her the same respect the Prince received and more, even. "If I knew my son was in any danger, I wouldn't be able to leave his side until I knew he was completely safe. If I were them, I would have already moved far away from here."

She at least tried to be friendly, though he wouldn't make that point aloud, but might if he were pushed, just as he had crossed the Prince when he tried to lock Bella away. There would be no gratification in viewing the Prince as an adversary either, only pain. Henry was also concerned if Bella had even considered whether not to willingly placing herself into isolation with them and if in even she could sustain that commitment, how long could she? Was it obvious the warmth of their manners stemmed from their desperation to see the curse broken?

Then, how would Bella react to her role in their salvation? As if she weren't already playing a big part. He could only remain ready to dispel any doubts and be at her side in her service. Everything else was out of his hands.

Henry made no comment in regards to the disorderly state of the Prince's study and all its debris in their search of him, merely sighing instead. "His chambers, then." A hop, skip and a jump to the second to highest floor of the castle and they found he was not there either, but the doors to his room were open. "He must have been here for a reason." Henry wondered if Jaron simply neglected to close his bedroom door or might have left it open in an attempt to leave behind a sign of his trace, perhaps a graceful gesture to indicate he was around. No, he knew the former must have been the case. There was one place Henry avoided checking, at least with Bella around. He made a mental note to look there by his self. "We'll keep checking, then. He's bound to show up, you can usually find his Highness in the den and the basement, when he is around. I don't imagine he'll be visiting the study, unless to clear all the rubbish."

The following couple of days were some of the strangest ones for those living inside Inverness with the addition of the young woman who lived at the edge of the woods. Everyone did their best to make her feel at home and found joy in doing so, with the exception of one or two sour apples. The royal children's studies had resumed and a vigilant steel plated Henry could be found in the night crossing back and forth throughout the castles wings and floors, lest a disturbance might be found in them as well. They had all even began a newfound tradition of tea and charades in any of the castles dens that would comfortably accommodate the lot of them and their pantomiming, ranging from historical figures to words and phrases. The fact Sophia seemed to be the worst at the game yet enjoyed it the most was as terribly obvious as her fondness for Bella.
 
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The search for the Prince yielded little other than growing concern and increasing surety that he was avoiding everyone, especially Bella. It might not have been as worrisome had the events of that morning not played out as they did. She was already accustomed to seeing him very little as they hadn't spent much time together in the past month, during her back and forth trips, outside of her greeting him, which was more or less an obligatory formality that they might both have been pleased to dispense with at the time. This felt different, like he was expending more effort in hiding himself. It was her fear that he might still be in a poor state; however, she did find a little reassurance in the fact that he had seemed better after he drank. If something was still wrong, he did a very good job of concealing it. Was it possible then that he was merely feeling self-conscious and was avoiding her out of embarrassment? That didn't strike her as his wont, but it was better than the alternative.

Bella mulled over all of this very carefully, trudging along beside Henry. His words caused her to think most unhappily about her family, to wonder what they thought when she took off on horseback last night. It was likely that they shared Henry's sentiment, wishing there was something they could do to rescue her from what they perceived as some wicked fate manipulated by magic. If they could afford it, there was little doubt that they would pack up and move on to some other town far away and safe from the cursed woods, no matter how much they had come to love Esterwell. Nothing was worth the loss of the youngest member of their small family. It was nonetheless true, too, that they did have patience and self-control. If not, surely her father and brother-in-law would have come to take her back at any cost, possibly with half the town behind them. They were aware of all that was at stake, though; and that was likely the only thing stopping them.

"I like to think that they trust me enough, believe in me enough, to not do something foolish." She remarked, recalling how happy they had been to get her back the first time she disappeared. How painful would it be for them, watching and waiting every day for her to come home, not knowing why she couldn't? There was no way she could even tell them. She might could write a letter, but she had no way to send it that was efficient and didn't involve burdening someone else. Bella could have bitten through the inside of her lip.

She couldn't help the guilt that crept up inside her at the terrible sight of the Prince's study. It had been in a state, too, the night she left; although, that did little to alleviate the feeling that she had some hand in it. She dared not step foot into his chamber and could barely bring herself to look through the doors the Prince left open. It seemed such an invasion of privacy; a laughable idea considering she invaded their home in the first place. The bedchamber held a modicum of intimacy that was best left intact, so she turned to face the corridor with lightly flushed cheeks for a reason she refused to entertain. She was almost relieved when they gave up searching for him, which was short-lived when he still hadn't made an appearance after almost forty-eight hours.

In those two days, Bella became quite comfortable at the castle, in spite of the lingering foreboding that was the Prince, or the lack thereof. It was easy to ignore the gloomy nature of the castle, albeit the vivid images of the massacre weren't far from her consciousness. That first night had been a restful one. If any dreams had plagued her, they must not have been too bad for she woke undisturbed after sleeping the whole night. The second night was a different story. She woke to moonlight flooding the princess's bedroom, her heart racing and the icy breath of fear cold on her skin; she was frightened by whatever she had dreamed, though she couldn't remember what it was.

It was that day, too, that Bella had mostly given up hope of finding a suitable dress in any of the wardrobes she looked in. There apparently was simply no such thing as a plain dress in a castle; even the simplest and most modest designs by royal standards had lace and intricate embroidery and jeweled embellishments. That day's
dress was as long as the one she usually wore at home, in a similar color scheme as the dress the Monarch had made for her. It was mostly white with a delicate lace trim on the hem and the collar; and vines of roses climbing up embroidered in ivory silk thread. The bodice and over skirt was pink; the bodice had white roses between two lines of lace in the center. She realized the day before that her work worn boots would not be appropriate to wear with everything and so opted to browse the selection of shoes, as well. She opted for some white shoes with a lace overlay and a low heel.

"So, he hasn't come down today, either?" Bella frowned over her teacup, staring down at the breakfast laid out in front of her. While a castle had a great many places to hide oneself away, to not be found for three days was inconceivable. "No. There are secret passages in the walls. I have no doubt there are secret, hidden rooms that even Henry might not know about." She reminded herself, thinking back to the passage the Monarch opened in the wall on her first day there. If the Prince would not come out, very well then, she would look for him. That is, after the children went to their studies.
 
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Imogen, who sat beside Bella, could not manage to avert her far off gaze from her breakfast, which she hadn't touched one bit, as Bella addressed the elephant in the room. Landon, however, wolfed down his serving without a second thought, "Oh, when does he, ever? Ever since you showed up on our doorstep, seems he won't show his face unless you're around to see it." their chef declared shamelessly, not bothering to even look up from his plate as he spoke. After having discovered the method in which Bella had used to save them all, you couldn't mention Bella and the Prince in the same sentence without Landon interposing some suggestive remark. The blonde man would die before admitting he had began to think Bella would not succeed in swaying the Prince from the unknown beyond, even if it was just for a moment and only as he suffered from fever and drifted into unconsciousness. No, he would never admit such a thing. In fact, if you asked him, the curse was already broken.

Imogen simply wringed her hands in anxiety. She only looked up to glance at Landon as he spoke, as if in his voice she could hear the unshackling of their chains to the Prince. The only glimpses of solace she seemed able to find were in the blonde mans ability to make their dire circumstances out to be humorous and how he found them amusing, even if she didn't particularly agree with it. She didn't think Bella was incapable or inappropriate to have around; she hadn't decided the Prince had abandoned them once again.

She just never had the confidence Landon radiated, nor Henry's impenetrable resilience and for good reason, too, although what that reason was remained as vague as the curse and it was what prevented her from being as tolerant of everything from the passing of time and now the Prince's unusual behavior. In that case, she was guilty of trying to stay out of Bella's way, so as not to intimidate the girl from the woods with her misery. Surely, if she possessed the Monarchs ability to vanish into thin air, she would do so whenever the copperhead girl entered the same room as her.


"If you don't at least try to smile, your face will be stuck like that forever." Landon jested through his unfaltering ear to ear grin, meeting Imogen's gaze as he lifted her untouched plate off the table. Their housekeeper managed a light smirk, more so by the camaraderie the man brought to her than anything else. She didn't find making sport of her anxiety amusing in the slightest and wouldn't let anyone else get away with doing so, unless perhaps they too were forced to spend nine years confined to a vampire Prince's castle and still managed to make jokes and cook delicious meals. Only then might she allow it, especially if their cooking was just as excellent.

"You know where to find me." Landon called out to Imogen and Bella as he pulled on a pair of gloves made out of cheap but durable leather and threw on a braided straw hat with a wide circular brim and string that hung down behind his ears and down the neck, "Don't get into any trouble now, or we'll throw you in the dungeon and feed you horse slop." He remarked to Bella, followed by a grin and wink. "Give a shout if you need me." With that, he was through the kitchen door and off to garden. "Yes, um, I must get a head start on the children's studies," Imogen awkwardly started, trying not to make it obvious how quickly she meant to quit Bella's company, although the effort was in vain as she had already stood up and backed away from the table before she knew it. "Yes, um, help yourself to the pantry, if you need. You know where the tea bags are, yes?" she nodded without reply from Bella, shyly avoiding her gaze and making for the west wing when she stopped just before the door, remembering what Landon had told her last night regarding her concerns for Bella and not to avoid her. "Oh, and, if you're not too busy later, I could really use some help tidying up the place. I've began letting the place go these past couple days ever since, well, you know. But, I mean not if you're busy. It's fine. Okay." Imogen seemed to gradually inch closer and closer behind the door with every last word she spoke until finally closing it as gentle and quiet as possible, as if Bella had complained about the manner in which doors at Inverness were shut.
 
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"And yet, he hasn't shown himself in two days." Bella gazed sidelong at Landon with half-lidded eyes, a dubious expression, over the gold edge of her teacup. Even after she had finished sipping, she held the cup poised against her lips, hesitant to set it down. While the chef had been making such remarks at every available interval, his shameless declarations didn't cease to surprise and embarrass her; and they probably never would. It was almost like having Celine around, if she had been a man instead. Then again, she didn't know Landon as well as she knew her own sister; she didn't know the Prince well, either, which led her to question the veracity of Landon's comments. It seemed more to her like the Prince was avoiding her, just as Imogen seemed to be trying to do.

"Eheh, right." The redhead chuckled, though she didn't really find what Landon said to be funny. It made her wonder if he saw through her to her intentions of looking for the Prince. That was not to say that she was the type to look for trouble, rather trouble would look for her, like a cat preying upon a mouse, and strike at the worst possible moment. Of course, her intentions were pure, but those good intentions hadn't helped her situation much if at all thus far. She took another long sip of tea to prevent herself from saying anything unnecessary, until Landon had gone and it was just her and Imogen at the table.


"Oh, okay." Bella blinked, following Imogen with slightly-widened eyes as she inched closer to the door, eager to quit her company. Had she done something to make the housekeeper feel uneasy in her presence that she might avoid? Perhaps it wasn't anything she had done and it was simply Imogen's apparently excitable nature? There was no telling and Bella forbore to press her for information. There was a more important matter at hand, anyhow. She listened a moment after the doors closed for the woman's footsteps to fade. Once sure she was gone, Bella wolfed down what little remained on her plate and cleaned up the table. It only felt right, after all, not to leave a mess. Her obligation fulfilled, she peeked into the dining hall to make sure it was empty before passing through it to the door that the Prince had brought her through some time ago.

Behind that door stood a stairway, which she ascended and entered through another door into the corridor where she and the Prince had walked. It was easy enough to make her way about the East Wing from there. With slowly dwindling determination, Bella crossed the expanse of the castle's east side. She checked the den where he had fought with Henry three days prior, not in any real hope that he would be there; however, she wanted to cross it off the list. The only place that she dared not check was the Prince's chambers. It was already bad enough that she was snooping without invading his privacy that thoroughly. What if he was actually in there when she opened the door and she found him in an indecent state? Oh, the trouble she would surely be in then! She didn't even want to imagine. Instead, she went straight to his study.

"Your Highness?" The call was barely above speaking volume, drowned out by the three knocks on the heavy wooden door. There was no response, as Bella was beginning to expect none, and she rested her hand gingerly on the door handle. She took a deep breath and pushed the handle down. "Your Highness? Sincerely, begging your pardon, but..." Her copper head poked in around the door, only enough for her to see into the room at first and whether or not the Prince was there. The study was empty, prompting her to step in the rest of the way and close the door behind her. There was no light save for the thin rays that seeped through the crack in the heavy drapes on the far wall. Bella picked her way over broken glass and splinters of wood, taking in the disaster that the Prince had wrought upon his once stately lair.

While it was the least of her intentions to be nosy, Bella's curiosity easily got the best of her. She hadn't the chance to look around the study before; now the Prince wasn't there to stop her. From the many books and valuables that remained on their shelves behind glass doors to the pile of waste lain, she looked with a keen eye. The desk drawers which were ajar from the desk having been heaved across the room beckoned to her and she opened them to look inside. Like a proper lady, she did not rifle through their contents, only moved a paper or two aside to see what was underneath before she closed the respective drawer. Hidden beneath the papers strewn in one drawer was a key. Bella gasped at the sight for she knew that key to be the one the King wore when she dreamed of the massacre, the key the witch had taken off his corpse.

"No, I shouldn't." Bella drew her hand back from the key and closed the drawer harder than she meant to. The bang caused her to freeze, a deer startled by the snapping of a twig in the forest. When the door didn't open, she relaxed. It wasn't that she feared any consequences for having a look around, but she feared that the Prince might do something brash again if he happened upon her as such. As if by magnetism her eyes were drawn to a piece of furniture across the room, one she had oddly not noticed sooner. How could she not have, aside from the fact that it was tucked away in the corner? The funny thing about it was that it was untouched whereas everything else had been subject to the Prince's temper. Carefully she approached the wardrobe and reached out to open one of its double doors.
 
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“I must implore you, Bella Montagne,” a disembodied voice cut through the air, addressing the young forge house woman by her full name. Judging from the tone and pitch of its words, it appeared to be, or rather sounded like a woman's voice; mature and with a distinct accent. She or it paused a moment before continuing to speak to ensure Bella was listening beside her shock so as to avoid having to repeat herself to the girl and startle her further, “Do not proceed with your current endeavors.” Although she was disembodied, the woman's voice seemed to travel from somewhere by the door before bouncing off of Bella’s eardrums. Not wanting to further compromise Bella’s comfort and trust in her safety living at the castle, the woman would not speak further. Perhaps it would be best if Bella had assumed she was imagining the voice, a manifestation of her fear that the Prince might react in a ghastly manner to her snooping through the belongings of his legacy. Why someone or something, a spirit or some anomaly of sorts, would encourage Bella not to investigate the establishment was a mystery and would remain so, until she proceeded to discover the wardrobe's true purpose and why it stood against the wall, the only object in the room unscathed from the Prince’s wrath.

One door of the wardrobe swung open, then the other, onto the shallow main compartment of the wardrobe and the smell of cedar. There were few garments hanging there: a fine dress shirt, a black double-breasted jacket that
might have been part of a suit, and a dress coat of finely woven wool that was soft to the touch. It was a curious and somewhat disappointing find. For all of its apparent whimsy, there was nothing outright magical about the wardrobe. Bella’s shoulders dropped and she blinked, not really knowing exactly what she expected, yet she was left feeling like there was something she was missing. She moved the garments left and right, as something might appear behind them. The back of the wardrobe remained unchanged.

“Who--!?” The sound of a female voice caused her to tense and she jerked her head this way and that, looking for the source. Whoever it belonged to was not in the room with her; it sounded as though the unknown woman might be in the hallway or just outside the door of the study. The hairs on Bella’s arms and neck stood on end. What was so inherently bad about taking a look around? She hadn’t read any of the Prince’s documents or touched anything of obvious intrinsic value, except the desk. There was no harm done by her gentle curiosity.

Bella was prepared to close the wardrobe and took a couple steps back to close the doors. There must have been just the right amount of light that the dark crack at the bottom of the back panel caught her eye. She stepped closer and shoved the clothes aside to lean in, then tapped on the wood with a knuckle. There was empty space behind it. With a nervous sidelong glance, the redhead bit her lip and pushed on the panel; it swung open without so much as a sigh onto a dark passage much like the one the Monarch led her through before. Her heart skipped a beat and she took a step forward.

The words the disembodied voice spoke gave her pause; however, she was almost certain that she would find the Prince behind the door at the end of the stone corridor, which she could only just make out. The question she had to ask herself was, was it worth the risk? Clearly, she was not meant to find this secret and there was little doubt she’d be in trouble if she kept on. In spite of this line of thinking, Bella’s feet carried her to the end of the narrow passage where she stood before the door.

“He’s probably in there. Where else could someone hide for three days?” She thought, staring down at the door handle. She reached out with a finger to push it down; it barely moved. It was locked. Immediately, she thought of the key in the desk. “I couldn’t… I shouldn’t…” Yet Bella found herself standing again at the desk, gaze focused on the drawer wherein lay the key. “Still.. I came to see to his welfare, even though he’ll surely be angry..” With a surge of determination, she took the key and made her way back through the wardrobe; and with a deep breath, slid the key into the hole beneath the door handle, which it fitted perfectly.

Before the thick layer of dust coating the room could agitate the nose or the creases of the rough sandpaper like material that made up the abundant scrolls strewn throughout the rooms floor and tables from centuries before could be caressed; feeling much like the surface of a cats tongue and seemingly ready to crumble into dust at any moment, the secret rooms decrepit age, hidden behind the study’s wardrobe, already became evident enough by the locked door that groaned like a dozen frogs croaking in the night if you didn’t push it open fast enough, which Bella surely had neglected to do. Perhaps to at least not seem like she were barging in rudely, seeing as she had already went as far as finding the doors key, letting alone the fact she had discovered the door at all.

To the young forge house woman's dismay and despite the numerous oddities that decorated the hidden room, the Prince remained to not be one of them. Although, there was more than enough in the room, which was just shy in its size of the study, to please anyone's curiosity, especially anyone keen enough to discover it by way of their intuition alone. It was not necessary to peruse the contents of the scrolls or the countless books on their respective shelves to understand that magic was the essence of everything that had to do with the room, from the wardrobes false panel to the numerous candles that dimly lit the wooden floorboards that creaked as you stepped upon them and might could be heard from the study as the door remained rather thin. Although, if Bella were to peruse the scrolls and parchments and books, she would find that most of them were written in several languages that most people in Carthya would not understand or recognize.

On one end of the room against the wall sat some hybrid of a desk and workbench conjoined, each of their respective properties complementing one another, from the stack of books, ink and quill and parchment that stood propped upon the desk on a writing board to the strange structure of the alchemy lab fitted with iron poles that held flasks of various shapes, sizes and contents above what appeared to be some kind of stove that remained lit, emitting what seemed like smoke from firewood at first glance but was more likely some type of gas. The only noise that could be heard in the room was a gentle bubbling that seemed to be coming from within the alchemy bench.

It was not uncommon in Carthya to find peddlers who advertised all types of alchemy concoctions on the road or in a towns square, although the effects they claimed these “potions” to possess were never known to be true. Only those ignorant or gullible enough to unhand their money would find that out after the fact. Oddly enough, these peddlers did offer home remedies that simply involved a mortar, pestle and herbs that were scarcely found throughout the heartlands, plains and valleys of the countryside.

These remedies did well to boost ones vitality and stamina or treat infections and tend wounds, in some cases even heal broken bones faster or make ones skin smoother. They would divulge this knowledge for free, if only to entice and persuade a sale on their false wares. A laboratory, however, was not something you could find everyday. In fact, the technology and chemistry involved could not be found anywhere and they never were. Not by anyone that wasn’t looking for them, at least. Bella’s discovery of one might have marked the first exception to the fact.

If the alchemy table wasn’t peculiar enough, perhaps the floating suit of armor on the other end of the room, with its benign blue twinkling between each of its hollow limbs that looked like the stars that painted the night sky would be enough to indicate there was a lot about Carthya that Bella or most of its people knew about. What purpose of utility the floating phenomenon served was as unclear as the very magic that held the gauntlets, helmet, chest piece and leggings in the air. The last but certainly not the least noticeable oddity in the room was the hunk of black crystal that sat atop the table in the middle of the room, held up by its own jagged form. It lay beside a rose floating in its respective glass casing, glowing a vibrant pink aura as opposed to the floating amours gentle blue twinkle.

The crystal hunk remained as black as it had since the day it was born from its magic essence, with dark purple undertones that curved around the reflection of the candlelight. Only as Bella approached the rock did the crystals surface begin to morph into an opal pastel kaleidoscope of blue, pink and white that pleasantly contrasted its previous black state for the very first time.
 
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The door groaned on its old hinges, a terrible sound that could have woken the dead. It grated on the ears and filled the room of stone walls as completely as silence filled the study just beyond the wardrobe that hid this room. Bella grimaced, already stumbling over what apology she would give the Prince for disturbing him so, her attempt to be unobtrusive thwarted before it ever really began. With a sheepish smile, she poked her bright head around the door frame, half-expecting to see the Prince looking angrily over his shoulder where he stood over whatever she distracted him from. This was not to be; however unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, it was for her. The secret room, which was surely the only place he could have been, was a bust.

“Not here, either…” A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips, pulled taut in a frown. If the room had been full only of books and parchment and scrolls, without the obviously magical artifacts, Bella might have turned round and left. The strange sight on the far end of the room drew her in so intensely that she didn’t even cringe at the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet. In fact, the sound hardly registered in her ears. She walked like one bewitched towards the odd table, leaning in close to the bubbling vials until she could see the tiniest bubbles running up the inside of the glass, offering to touch nothing. Only did she pull back when a cloud wafted from the stove and hung in her face. With the wave of a hand, she chased the smoke away and coughed.

Little thought was spared for the litter of papers, at first. There were no words recognizable at a glance, so the thought of reading them held hardly any merit. They were not nearly so interesting as the suit of armor held against the wall not by nails or anything of this world, but by magic, which sparkled blue around where each part should have joined together. It was matched by the rose, edged with a pink glow, under a protective glass cloche. The crystal, too, was magnificent with its changing colors that reminded her of a pair of fine earrings she had once owned.

From the faceted brilliance of the crystal, Bella’s eyes fell upon the scrawlings on the pages yellowed with age. They were in no language that she knew, no language that she was sure actually existed; yet something felt oddly familiar as the words she read echoed in her mind and formed on her tongue. It was as if she could hear them being spoken, but the sound was far away so that it was almost indistinguishable. Bella turned, eyes bouncing from corner to corner, searching for the source. The secret room crumbled away, replaced by an ocean of scraggly trees for as far as the eye could see. Whispers ebbed and flowed from the shadows, circling her. The dreams from the past month, the memories of which had grown dim, became suddenly clear. The whispers too became clear, so clear that Bella could make out the foreign words. They filled her head, growing louder until they were a screeching that could make one’s ears bleed. It was a screech like that of the witch in her dream of the massacre.

Bella clamped her hands down over her ears; although, it wasn’t something she could protect herself from that way. The forest was gone and she again stood in the strange secret room hidden in the Prince's study. The terrible screaming remained.

“Stop, stop!” Her voice rose on a tremulous note of fear. She backed away from the table until the words on the paper were gray lines indistinguishable from one another and whirled round towards the door. She couldn’t stay in that room another minute.
 
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The creaking floorboards did cause the Prince to scrunch up his face somewhat. He never did understand what the point of wooden floorboards was or why over several generations none of his predecessors had bothered to replace them. Apparently it had something to do with ventilation, but the concept was beyond him as he had little concern for architecture and design. Unless of course, it had to do with the secret room in particular. His mother was the one who had objected to his desires to renovate the room. He could still hear her infinite wisdom echo in his head, "Change is only good when it makes things better." He paid the floorboards little mind since she had passed, especially now that there was nobody around to make them creak. Even Henry had only been to the room less than a handful of times since the massacre. However, now that Bella caused the floorboards to creak as she walked upon them, it reminded Jaron of how much he hated them as he stood opposite from Bella in the room.

Thankfully, or rather, fortunately, or rather, as a matter of fact, one of his many powers allowed him to suppress the sound of his footsteps, so as to better sneak upon any unsuspecting meals, he morbidly figured. It was as simple as blinking the eyes or wiggling your big toe, it was just something that he could do on command and surrounded his feet with a menacingly purple smoky aura, too, much like that which emitted from the rose or the flashing purple light that appeared for a second as he turned invisible and vanished, accompanied by the very low and quick sound that could only be described as air being sucked in somewhere by a strong vacuum.

If not for these abilities, Jaron would have been trapped, with no choice but to be found by Bella thanks to her intuitive snooping around, which normally he would have found quite annoying as he clearly wasn't in the mood to be around others. There was something about being able to choose when you had to interact with people that was relieving, if you took it with a grain of salt, as bittersweet was hardly an appropriate way to put such a small perk that came with the rest of the hell that this particular case of vampirism brought with it. Bitter was well enough alone, that much the Prince was sure of. What perplexed him now was why he had spent three days hiding from Bella in the first place.

It was true that the Prince would seclude and isolate himself for days at a time, but he knew that was only to get away from the monotony that came with being trapped with the same people for nearly a decade. He knew there was something different about this particular distancing. There were no intentions at play to once again attempt to starve himself to death from lack of blood intake, although his vitality was the least of his concerns as always. When he identified the scent of Bella's blood as she approached from down the hall just moments ago, he couldn't deny the feeling of wanting to be found by her. That feeling derived itself from the sensation of being embraced by the woman a few days ago, when the sun turned her already pale hair to a strawberry blonde. The sensation affected him still to the ever present moment, as did the weight of her promise.

Even as the sound of the door unlocking sent excitement rushing through him to the very tips of his fingers, Jaron caused himself to vanish at the last moment. He did so partly to avoid Bella for a while longer, despite not knowing why he preferred not to face her, even though truthfully, he didn't, but could not overcome some apprehensive reflex that took control at the last second. There was also a dilemma to consider regarding her discovery of that room. If he chose not to conceal himself, he might feel obligated to explain the various oddities the room had to offer. The Prince didn't believe in lying, he felt it was in poor taste, even if the truth was painful. However still, he failed to consider that Bella was more concerned with his own welfare rather than what curiosities he had to offer. Bella was not one to pry, that much was certain but that fact of the matter was currently beyond the Prince given how personal and intimate her promise to Jaron was and he didn't want to deny her an explanation, regardless if she had the right to know or not. The Prince thought it best to just pretend he hadn't seen her perusing the room at all and let it be forgotten.

That was, until she became gradually agitated and pressed her hands over her ears, her terror visible upon her face and body language. Only just then did Jaron notice how the hunk of crystal on the middle table had transformed its colors, although now it seemed to be gradually revert back to its original black and purple state. Jaron quit his invisible state as Bella began to plead for her sanity. He immediately regretted doing so as she turned round; his red eyed sickly pale state was surely no better than whatever seemed to be terrorizing Bella, not to mention she had no idea he was right there behind her. Still, he didn't think it wise to ignore the matter and earnestly wanted to address it at once.

"Bella!" he called out immediately as she began to turn round, unsure of how else to announce his presence to her. She was suddenly hellbent on storming out the room, as if to escape someone or something, "What's wrong?! Why are you yelling?!" the Prince held his hands out parallel to Bella's arms so as to catch her in case she collided into him or simply make it quickly evident that he was not angry or a threat. "What's going on?! Are you all right?"
 
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As could be said of most things, the shriek got worse before it got better. The dreadful, shrill sound, whether it was merely a figment of imagination or memory or it was the result of forming the words on the paper though she didn't speak them aloud, induced a splitting headache. It was a sensation that one might have likened to having their brain scrambled, if one could manage to describe it at all. It could be guessed that the poor souls who were in the vicinity of the witch when she released her own hellish voice suffered a similar pain. Then she couldn't recall having a headache after the dream of the massacre, not that she even had the time to given the circumstances; and she hadn't been on the receiving end of the witch's scream. Of course, it could be argued that the pain Bella was experiencing was due to how hard she was squeezing her head between her hands in her vain attempt to silence the screaming. The only thing that it really prevented her from hearing was her name as it left the Prince's lips.

It was barely audible over the relentless noise and her hands being clamped so hard over her ears. As such, to say that her least expectation was to see the Prince was quite the understatement. Bella collided with him as she turned, releasing a shriek of her own. Her eyes, nearly ocher in the dim light, were wide as saucers, wild and afraid. At first they didn't recognize the red gaze they met; however, the realization soon sank in and all at once the screaming stopped. It didn't occur to her as she came down from her overwhelmed adrenaline high to wonder at his presence, whether or not he'd been there the entire time or had only just entered behind her, having come from someplace else in the castle. As well, the thought that he might be angry at having caught her in his secret room or that she ought to be apologizing for snooping never crossed her mind. All that did was a vague assurance that she wasn't in some forest-conjured nightmare and that she was, in some capacity, safe. Her heaving breaths calmed.

Bella's hands slowly retracted from the sides of her head, as if she expected that the screeching would start up again at any moment and she needed to be ready to block it out despite that it did no good. While certain that she was awake, her expression gave the impression that she didn't totally believe she was actually seeing the Prince. Truthfully, this was so. Her rattled brain might come up with anything; so why not the Prince? She was looking for him, after all. For him to magically appear conveniently out of nowhere when she had sought him out seemed plausible only as a dream, even with the magic obviously at work in the castle. Then, the way her arm brushed his hand when she moved didn't seem like a hallucination. Neither did his voice, which came to her muddled and distant like from under water, but she understood what he said at least well enough to be able to answer.

"The screaming stopped." The words were soft, so soft that Bella didn't hear her own voice. A hazy feeling like the thick fog that lingered on autumn mornings over the harbor she grew up on settled in her head, yet it felt weightless and dizzy. Her body tingled with simultaneous anxious jitters and numbness. "I'm alright, but I think.. I'm going... to..." Each syllable seemed more difficult to utter than the last as the pauses between words increased in length. Vacancy glossed over Bella's eyes and they rolled halfway back as her weight pitched forward and she crashed into Jaron a second time.

It was little more than a matter minutes before the redhead roused back to consciousness. Unlike the night with Liza, she hadn't spent all of her energy escaping certain death and worrying herself sick. She groaned and placed a hand on her forehead, pressing into her temples with her middle finger and thumb. The headache she had was arguably the worst she'd ever experienced in her twenty years. "I must have hit myself with the poll of the axe." For a moment, her memory lagged, as though she truly had been hit over the head. Robby warned her several times while teaching her the art of cutting wood to be careful pulling the axe back, especially if it stuck in the old stump they used for a chopping block. It would fly back and hit her if she didn't watch it. The events all came back to her with a bump as she opened her eyes not to blue sky and clouds and the tops of trees, but shaded ceiling and stone walls and dim firelight. "Oh, right. I was looking for the Prince. I was in the room behind the wardrobe. Then--" Bella didn't want to think about the rest. "Wait! The Prince was there!" She sat up, looking around, not really expecting him to still be there.
 
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The Prince was quick to react; he bent his knees to make lifting up Bella's entire weight easier on his self and was forced to lean back to avoid lifting her legs off the ground due to their height difference as he hooked his arms under hers just as she had done for him outside by the gazebo. Jaron held a vacant and slumped Bella up in that position for a moment, wondering if she might regain her consciousness at any second. He didn't want to set her on the table, lest the screaming she mentioned was somehow influenced by her proximity to the scrolls and crystal beside them, he was also too concerned with her well being to understand or have an idea of what happened to her. It became apparent that Bella wasn't going to wake up soon enough as the pleasant scent of her hair began to absorb Jaron and he suddenly felt awkward having her limp body pressed upon him in an unconscious manner. He had no choice but to carry her out of the room to somewhere more appropriate.

"Now, what made you think there would be no repercussions in allowing her to peruse such sensitive materials?" asked a familiar lithe blue haired woman, who's unusual height became strikingly evident when she stood near anyone, even from afar. She only seemed less intimidating as she spoke in her delicate tone, though that was not always the case. Her voice wrapped around the ears like spiderwebs, holding you in a vice grip if you were not strong enough to resist the fine silky thread. "I suppose, you must not have been thinking at all then?" the woman lightly pressed her hands on each side of Bella's head as she sat slumped against the cushions of the sofa, placing an ear towards the top as if she could hear the womans thoughts if she was close enough to listen for them. She very gently rested Bella's limping head down on the arm of the couch, so as to make it seem like she were asleep and preserve her dignity. Jaron remained silent and perhaps for the first time in history, neglected to make a stubborn remark. He only began to wonder if Bella really was just some forge house dweller.

The woman vanished in an instant as Bella began to groan. Jaron stood up from his lounge chair, crossing towards the fireplace that rested in its cove within the interior wall, the sound of cracking firewood accompanying Bella's groans. He was not so irritated by Bella's mysterious affliction as he was unusually concerned and simply nervous that it had forced his hand and left him with no choice other than to finally confront her, in fear that by doing so he would be calling her bluff in regards to the sentiment of her promise, an issue he wanted to avoid for as long as possible. There was no denying this procrastination only proved how he was beginning to feel like having Bella around was a good thing. The repercussions of that element becoming a necessary thing was just as clear, too. Jaron gazed at the cracking firewood from between the fireplace and sofa, positioned where he could see Bella out the corner of his eye as the fireplaces reflection glistened where his irises curved atop his pupils. He recalled having curiously observed everyone in the den as they played charades together, realizing that he must have subconsciously brought Bella to this particular den.

The Prince waited for Bella to find him, not wanting to startle her a second time. He could not find the energy to be upset with her exploring and perusing and felt responsible for her suffering, which could have easily been avoided had he not decided to hide himself for so long. That being the case, he hesitated to meet her gaze and could not begin to think of how he could explain the affliction of her discovery. Jaron's usual blank expression could not be found, rather he appeared visibly awkward and even somewhat shy. Unspoken questions lingered in the air between them and he could only dread the answers.

"You fainted.....how do you feel?" the Prince, so caught up in his emotions which already caused him to forget Bella had fainted just a short while ago, thought he should break the silence first. "I had to carry you here, I thought it might help. Unless you prefer I had just let you fall to the floor?" he turned to gaze at the fireplace again instead, which he found to be a lot less intimidating than Bella's face. "You can return there, if you'd like." The Prince failed to understand what she was still doing there at all, or why she was so determined to find him. She had nothing to gain from helping a bunch of strangers who's existence had been completely hidden from her just a short month ago, regardless if they were royalty or not. He wasn't forcing her there anymore, even after she had scolded him and walked away. What purpose did throwing her life away serve? It would not be long until she considered these things, or so Jaron thought. He could not fathom why she hadn't already and was expecting her to apologize for her insolence and politely ask to return home, just as she had done almost as soon as she had arrived.

Jaron turned to face Bella a second time, his usual blank expression returning. He was beginning to look as he always did when he wasn't being easily infuriated, indifferent and absent-minded. "Can you explain what happened? You mentioned there was screaming, but I didn't hear anything." the Prince sounded as if the extraordinary and unfathomable were both not part of his daily regime. It was not unlikely that the tall mysterious blue haired woman was lingering about, eager to understand what exactly Bella had experienced. "So, who was screaming?"
 
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Little more was required to locate the Prince than simply a turn of Bella's head, which was surprising enough on its own. Still more surprising was the fact that, not only had he brought her to the den, but he stayed to see to her himself rather than leaving her for someone else to look after. One could be sure of her astonishment, the way she blinked at him with wide eyes, looking at him very much the same way she had the wonders in the secret room. For as long as he had avoided her, she wondered at his presence; however, that did not stop her from being glad for it. The technicality of who found whom mattered not at all, for Bella's objective was fulfilled either way. The Prince was well, or he at least appeared to be well; he acted well enough, if just a bit unusually from what she had witnessed thus far. His seeming shyness was new. She would have been content to leave it at that and could even have put the strange occurrence in the secret room out of her mind; the Prince, not so much.

"Like I need a drink." Bella exhaled her short-lived relief, her head throbbing as if to remind her of the splitting headache. The rosy firelight lent to the flush that colored her cheeks a vibrancy that only would have made her more embarrassed if she was aware of it. "I, er, no. I appreciate it, really. I'm sorry to have put you to the trouble." She stammered, turning her gaze to the patterned carpet between them and hiding her face behind her copper fringe. Perhaps it would have been better if he had let her fall? At least then she wouldn't feel like an inconvenience, even if it may have resulted in a worse headache. The fact that she fell into him, as well as the idea that she could possibly have been pressed against him so, didn't come to mind. It was for the better, really, for if it had, she would surely have died.

"No!" The word fired from her mouth quicker than her head snapped up. Then, feeling she answered too hastily, the redhead amended, "No, thank you." At that moment, Bella might have even preferred the dungeon to the secret room. It was marginal at best; although, the dungeon didn't come with warnings and violent screaming from magical, disembodied voices. One terror was plenty for one day; and she'd already had two, in the span of a minute. Her gaze drifted unhappily to the ivory roses embroidered on the white skirt of her dress, following the graceful perfect stitches that outlined each flower and stem and leaf. Long it remained there before her eyes lifted, gilded by the firelight, to stare back at the Prince.

"I don't..." "...really know where to begin." Bella wanted to say as she seemed to search the Prince's face for something. The question was, should she tell him the whole story or only about what happened minutes ago? Would the ordeal of the past month be pertinent now? She felt that it would inevitably lead to the dream of the massacre and recounting what happened with Liza that night in the woods. If he wanted to hear it, she would tell him, but she worried how he would react. Liza's death had been the icing on a cake made with years of blood, tears, and misery. It consequently lent to the episode only almost three days ago, part of the reason they were in the den now.

"Well, the short version: I was admiring your crystal. I didn't really have much interest in the scrolls or papers. The words weren't in any language I recognized, so there wasn't much of a point in trying." The words came out sheepish, accompanied by a sort of wincing smile one might give when knowingly saying something insulting while trying to avoid offending someone. "I skimmed over the words briefly at first; and I don't really know why, but they felt familiar, so I read them more carefully and - well - I could hear them, like someone was screaming them in my head." This was where Bella visibly struggled, dancing around how exactly she would continue. "I don't know really whether it's a who; it's more like a what." Her hands fidgeted over each other and there was an apparent fear in her hesitation.

"The forest... It was the forest." A sigh of resignation, as if by telling the Prince, she was sealing the events in reality so that she couldn't forget them as she so desperately wished to do. "It whispers to me, or, it did. In my dreams. It hasn't done so since I've been here."
 
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Bella's explanation of what had occurred in the secret room was nowhere as revealing as Jaron or even the mysterious blue haired woman hoped it would be. The only purpose it seemed to serve was to further torture the unlucky girl and unlock recollections of what sounded to be the manifestations of unpleasant dreams, possibly nightmares. Even Jaron had began to feel more uncomfortable than he already was as she spoke of foreign screams and a whispering forest. There did not seem to be anything he could do other than pity the girl for having somehow becoming intertwined in their lives, which Jaron evidently found to be just as tormenting as what was plaguing Bella if not more.

Jaron felt backed into a corner, standing there listening to Bella, unsure of how to comfort the girl who you would think to be fond of trouble by the way it seemed to follow her around. What began to frustrate him was how Bella now chose to be there with them in all their supernatural misery. She almost looked stupid to him, the way she sat there trying to explain the terror that was experienced rather than running out the front the door with her tail between her legs as soon as she came to. Well, technically she did try to do so but ran right into the Prince instead. Perhaps if he had not intervened in her escape, the adrenaline that might have caused her to faint would have subsided as she sprinted out of the study. Then in fact, if she hadn't chosen to return at all everything could have been avoided.

The Prince could not stand to look at Bella any further, either because he felt too awkward by her presence after the intimacy that had occurred three days prior or because he failed to pity the torment she detailed any further and could not think of how he could remedy it or if she even deserved for him to try, he could not determine. The latter, a harsh perspective from the brashest young man that could be found hundreds if not thousands of miles in any direction from where he stood, trapped and forgotten. Jaron's eyebrows contorted into their familiar irritated rut as he clenched his hands into fists, the first sign that his fragile temper was reaching its manic disposition. It seemed to him he was now cursed in more ways than one; by a wicked sorceress and a copperhead do-gooder too righteous for her own sanity, who now it seemed he would be forced to babysit lest she get herself locked in a room or trips and falls down a well.

Somehow Jaron's idea that Bella was to lift the sickly and humdrum veil that had fallen upon the castle during his time there had begun to no avail. One could possibly see the idea fade with their own eyes as they looked into his, his expression identical to the moment when he characterized Bella as nothing more than a worthless problem. You could feel the malice in the Prince's tone even before he began to speak it into existence as he turned to Bella once again, in a vastly different demeanor than he found himself in just moments prior, "Well, maybe, if you.."

The thin fringe of firelight flickered as it dimly lit and obscured Bella's natural amber eyes and left them gold. To say it obscured their nature was debatable, was it not natural for ones eyes to linger and alter in firelight? Jaron could not think to entertain the question, nor could he predict the rush of butterflies that spiraled up his abdomen as he saw his mothers hazel eyes in Bella's just as the day they had appeared in the sunlight by the gazebo.
"If, you..." The spectacle felt so close in time, not as if it had occurred yesterday or three days prior, not one bit did it hit the Prince like that. It was more so like it were occurring right there in the present moment. He could almost feel his skin burning in the sunlight just as he could feel Bella embracing him as he lingered so close to death. The sensation left Jaron petrified for what felt like an hour, yet somehow he could feel the muscles and nerves in his face relaxing as he unclenched his balled fists. Something caused him to recollect the question Henry had posed to him before that day: "Why do you always have to make everything worse?" he hadn't paid the question any mind, until that moment.

"If you were just more careful." Jaron could not think to say anything further than that, too baffled by his own emotions to construct anymore coherent thought. As if the man could hear Jaron thinking of him, Henry curiously peeked into the den's door, which had been left open half ways. His face lit up at the sight of both Bella and the Prince. He crossed the long distance from the door to the sitting area, addressing the rooms inhabitants in his usual elegant demeanor, yet with an unusually chipper inflection of the tone, "Miss Montagne," he stood before the coffee table, hesitating for a moment as his eyes met the Prince's, yet he greeted them with the warm smile as he did Bella nonetheless.

"Your Majesty." their burly defender addressed the Prince by his title in a tone similar to one would use as they asked a question, which he often did from time to time. Despite the guilt that crept upon him at the sight of his longtime
servant, Jaron was more than relieved that Henry had showed up when he did, but not surprised in the slightest. Something in the burly mans eyes also told the Prince he was forgiven for his previous behavior, as well. There was an unspoken understanding between them which had developed over the course of time they spent shackled to Inverness. The Prince obviously forgave Henry as well. In fact, no forgiveness was necessary on his part as Henry was not wrong to defend Bella. Jaron came to realize that as well, all within the span of just a handful of seconds as he greeted them and just as quickly as he began to consider that perhaps Bella was not a problem, although that idea was not an easy one to hold down and had to be taken with a grain of salt.


"You look well." Henry began, not yet taking his eyes off the Prince, noticing how unusually subdued he appeared, especially in his sickly state. He then looked back and forth between Bella and the Prince and also came to notice how frazzled Bella appeared. There were many questions on Henry's mind but his only concern was the well being of the two people before him who he was sworn to protect. Not wanting to point out the obvious and agitate the delicate atmosphere that lingered in the room or overstep any boundaries, he held off on addressing the Prince's sickly state and simply asked, "How is everything?" the question was clearly posed to both Bella and the Prince as Henry shifted his gaze back and forth between them. "Have I interrupted something?" he recalled Bella's detailed explanation of the events that had occurred three days prior. With that in mind it was rather odd to see the two of them casually in the den, although it did appear that Bella was in need of some sort of respite. Jaron felt compelled not to come off as aloof to Bella's insufferable encounter and spoke up in her defense, "Bella has been having trouble sleeping. Sounds like migraines." As Jaron's claim was not far from the truth, Henry found it to be rather convincing judging from Bella's demeanor. "Can you bring something to calm the nerves?"

Henry nodded and made haste in Bella's aid out of the den. "Henry," the Prince called out to him as he was half ways across the room, who turned round briskly, "Bring something potent." once more the unspoken understanding between the Captain and the Prince lingered in the air between them. Jaron's tone suggested he was speaking rather cryptically, which Henry picked up right away. "Of course." with that, he was out the door as quickly as he had came in, not sparing Bella a second to utter a word. There was a sense of urgency in his movements, judging by the Prince's appearance it would not be along until they all began to turn ill just as they had three days prior, a feeling they had dreaded as the days passed with no sign of the deceased Kings afflicted son. Henry only hoped Bella was not in too weak a state to have her blood drawn again. Jaron didn't hesitate to quit his spot beside the fireplace and slumped onto the lounge chair, breathing heavily from exhaustion as he rested his head back in a similar manner as Imogen had done three days prior before passing out. What he wouldn't give to do the same, now.
 
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