Le Swan Princess!
What I've got so far in my Swan Princess story, mostly disconnected vignettes or scenes...
She is five when she first meets Prince Derek, crown prince of Wiltshire. Well, she had met him before, when he came to her christening, but she doesn’t really count that. He is three years older than her, and his dark brown eyes are serious as his mother introduces him. Odette trots obediently forward to curtsy, but Derek is reluctant and Queen Uberta gives him a not-so-subtle shove in the back.
“Princess Odette,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’m very pleased to meet you.” He bows to her, and she curtsies in return, feeling very grown-up in her pink gown and slippers.
“Pleased to meet you, Prince Derek,” she says dutifully. She expects to feel his hand enclose hers, to feel his mouth brush the back of her fingers. (The way her father’s does, when she’s feeling particularly lonely and bored at one of the frequent parties, standing alone by the wall. She would see his large hand descend in front of her face before she would hear his voice, soft and warm asking her to dance and he would kiss her hand gently like a lady.) Odette barely catches a glimpse of the young prince’s back before he is standing next to his mother once again.
Odette supposes that was the moment she decided she didn’t like him.
Derek is again chastised by his mother-a hissed “Derek!” and a formidable look- and he comes forward with hand outstretched, and a sullen expression. Odette doesn’t want his kiss anymore, but she knows her father is watching and she wants to make him happy. She receives his kiss with a wrinkled nose and runs back to wrap herself around her father’s leg. He chuckles and ruffles her hair fondly. Odette thinks that summer in Wiltshire is not going to be very fun.
Her father made her visit every summer. There was no question of Derek visiting her, and every year when the air turned thick and the gardens were overflowing, Odette boarded a ship to Wiltshire. Her eighth summer was particularly eventful. She spent most of the time following Derek and his best friend Bromley around like a lost chick. Derek and Bromley, both eleven and convinced girls had a disease, tried everything they could to exclude her. They thought they’d had the perfect idea and built a tree house in the little glen that bordered the north end of the castle. It was rickety and made mostly out of discarded wagon- and firewood, with a few nails and a great deal of spit. Bromley in particular took pride in it, having designed the house and procured the wood himself. They were both inside, hiding both from the younger girl and the summer heat when they heard light quick steps approaching.
Odette looked up, heart quickening with hope when she spotted a flash of dark hair in the window. “Guys?” She stood under the window. “Are you in there?” The shadows in the window seemed to move before a pale hand stuck out a scroll, pinned it to the wall, and let it drop. On it, in large black lettering, were the words “NO GIRLS.” There came the loud laughter of boys, bright and superior. Odette felt her stomach drop and she felt her nose thicken and her eyes burn. No! She told herself. I will not cry! She thought about Derek, about how he always treated her like she was stupider than everyone else, the way he brushed her aside again and again and she hated it, how she had to leave her home to come to his house to spend a summer being tortured by him, and she especially hated how, in spite of everything, she kept trying to be his friend. She kept trying and trying and every time, he swept her aside like so much dust beneath his hand. Bromley only helped, his grey eyes glinting with childish cruelty as he egged Derek on.
Odette felt her cheeks begin to burn, and a furious frown grew on her face. Oh, she was so mad! Before she thought, she kicked out ferociously at the beam of wood supporting the tree house. It gave before her foot far too easily and with no more than a whisper, and she had a moment to be shocked and vaguely sure that she was going to be in trouble later, before the entire house came down on her head, Derek and Bromley with it.
They were holed up in the castle for three weeks. Odette spent the first week and a half in the medical wing fielding glares and taunts from Derek and Bromley with a broken leg and a lump the size of an egg on her head. Derek had gotten a black eye and a dislocated shoulder, Bromley a fractured ankle and bunches of scratches and splinters from the second-hand wood. Odette remembered the way her leg had made a loud “crack!” and how the pain had taken a moment to overwhelm her. In that moment she heard Derek scream, a broken shrill noise, and she wasn’t ever quite sure what had caused her to scream herself, the sudden rush of pain or how Derek had sounded.
Odette apologized when she thought the boys were asleep, her voice made wavery by tears. “I’m sorry,” she had said. “I just wanted to be in the tree house with you...”
Derek pretended to be asleep but was awake long after her sniffles had quieted.
Bromley was the one who noticed it first. “Derek,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?” Derek jumped and made frantic shushing motions at his friend, hunkering down further.
“Brom, shh!” Derek peered through the railing again. Bromley looked around. Derek was sitting on the second floor of the castle’s study library, just before the stairs, overlooking the main room. He was half lying on the floor, face hidden by the railing. And, just visible, perched on a window seat on the first floor and buried in a book was Odette. The sunlight bathing the West Wing Library turned her hair to gold, a halo around her head. Bromley had to admit she looked quite pretty for a thirteen year old, but he glanced back down at Derek.
“You totally like her, fess up!”
Odette looked up, frowning. “Bromley?”
Derek punched Bromley in the thigh and gave him a warning look.
“Hey Odette! Didn’t see you, uh, sitting there. I’m just, ah, looking. For a book. On, on dragons!”
Odette shrugged and went back to reading, and Bromley focused on slowing his heart down and getting his prince’s fingers pried off his ankle.
Later, after Derek had done this hilarious full body wiggle to get far enough to be out of Odette eyesight before he stood up, Bromley rounded on his friend. “You have a huge crush on Odette, admit it.”
Derek glared mutinously at him. “I do not.”
Bromley was having none of that and he glared right back. “I just caught you mooning over her in the library, Derek.”
Derek went through about five different uncomfortable looks that about had Brom giggling before saying “I was just. Keeping an eye on her, to make sure she wasn’t, uh, planning anything.”
“What.” Brom looked at him. “What would she be planning?”
“I,” Derek looked away, “uh, I don’t know. Something.”
“Right.” Bromley shoved at Derek. “Ever since she showed up this summer, you’ve been watching her. Last week you put a toad in her bed, which you haven’t done since we were eight, and the week before you challenged her to a race, which, what. And yesterday we had that god-awful card game in which you insisted I try and spy on her cards-which she knew I was doing, she’s not an idiot-and she still beat you. And then you pulled her braid after dinner and balanced a bucket on water on her door.”
Derek shifted. Odette had been really, really mad, which was why he had been hiding from her. He had ruined her favorite blue dress with the water trick, and she still hadn’t quite gotten over the toad thing either. But he didn’t have a crush on her. Or, ok, so maybe he had a little, tiny thing, but he wasn’t going to indulge his mother in her fantasy of future marriage if he could help it. It was just that she had gotten a little taller, and her eyes were really blue and she had this really cute nose-but it didn’t matter.
He realized Bromley was staring at him expectantly. He coughed. “Yeah, ok, I might,” he said, looking somewhere over Bromley’s left shoulder. Bromley thought for a moment about teasing him, but something in Derek’s face stopped him.
“Well, you could do worse,” he shrugged. “Half of the village has a crush on her, and most of the kitchen staff as well.”
Derek, taking it for the peace offering it was, laughed and cuffed Bromley lightly on the head. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go see if we can scrounge up something from said kitchen staff.”
Bromley has always been Derek’s best friend. Queen Uberta’s midwife, one of her best friends, had married a soldier. They had lived happily together, euphoric at the news of her pregnancy, when he had been killed in battle. It had not been in war, but merely bandits preying upon the words surrounding his village. Uberta had taken in Elaine, and Bromley had been born four months before Derek. They were first, fast friends, and caused quite a lot of havoc around the castle. The only time he and Bromley had been separated was for Odette’s christening. Elaine didn’t want to let her three year old son sail across the ocean, and Uberta understood. Bromley and Derek had not, and threw matching massive tantrums until they wore themselves down. Derek had missed Brom terribly throughout the whole trip, and he threw such fits about being separated that after that neither mother would part them. Wherever one went, the other followed. Bromley was educated as Derek was, learned all the princely etiquette like how to slay a dragon, how to rescue a damsel, which fork he was supposed to use first, and all one hundred and six different bows that could be used and when it was proper to use them. Derek never seemed to care much, but Bromley paid attention. He couldn’t ever remember which glass was for dinner and which for dessert, or to keep his elbows off the table, but he could remember the last two hundred years of Wiltshire’s history, and he could dance almost as well as Derek. Despite not caring, Derek was a sponge and could rattle off answers without even appearing to think when their tutor questioned them, constantly putting Bromley to shame. Bromley didn’t really mind; Derek was the crown prince. He was supposed to be better than everyone.
Bromley’s one skill that was better than Derek’s was the art of sword fighting. He loved it, loved the weight of the sword, the elegance of the dance, and of course, how he could always beat Derek in a sword fight. Their teacher, Vannay, despaired of Derek, who would always grin sheepishly after a match. Bromley would give him a hand up and Derek would clap him on the shoulder. “Why do I need to learn,” he would say with a quick bright grin at Brom, “Bromley can protect me!”
Bromley would look at Derek and grin back, chest puffed with pride.
Bromley studies the chessboard with narrowed eyes. Derek is standing by the window, one eye on Odette, who’s having archery lessons. Uberta had disapproved, but King William was pretty much wrapped around Odette’s little finger and thus there she was, long hair pulled out of her face, bow in hand.
“I mean, when is she ever going to need to know how?” Derek is asking, eyes fixed on the princess. “It’s not like she goes hunting or anything.”
Bromley shrugs. “I don’t know.” He debates moving his knight, then decides to go for it. “Your move,” he says.
Derek walks over to the board and glances down. He makes his move and takes down Bromley’s knight and a stray pawn before walking back over to the window. “Can you imagine her in a fight?” Derek says, voice contemptuous. “She would look ridiculous; no one would fight her.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Bromley says, “takes them by surprise.” He surreptitiously nudges one of Derek’s rooks off the board, then makes a studious face when Derek turns around. He slides his bishop forward a few places. “Your move.”
Derek scowls. “Whatever.” He comes over, and in a move that Bromley so did not see coming, corners him. “Checkmate.”
Bromley glares at Derek. “Best 6 out of 10,” he says and Derek quirks his head in challenge.
It’s not like he hadn’t known she was pretty; he wasn’t blind. It was just that at fifteen she had been stick thin with a lot of pimples, and sixteen hadn’t been much better. She had gained weight over the winter, enough that she spent all summer wandering about avoiding mirrors and doing serious damage to Derek’s chocolate stash. He had considered carrying around a hand mirror to torment her with, but he had caught her one morning crying in the garden because she’d seen a particularly unflattering reflection in the kitchen window. Derek hadn’t had the heart to whip out the mirror, and he kept it in his pocket, hard and cold all afternoon.
Last summer she had been losing a little weight, but her face still had spots and her hair was a little frizzy.
Now, however. Now. If Derek hadn’t already decided that this whole betrothal thing wasn’t so bad (though he’d never say it out loud, or to his mother) then he certainly would have then. He had been waiting in the Great Hall for her arrival, and his mother and Rodgers had mysteriously disappeared when the doors opened and a figure was shoved through. Odette turned around and sort of grimaced at him, but he was too shocked to do much but stare back. She was wearing some sort of gown, and he wasn’t up with what was fashionable, but it was far tighter and slinkier than anything he’d seen her in before. Also, the deep blue made her eyes (those eyes, those clear-day-blue eyes) seem huge and bright. Her hair fell in soft straight layers and not for the first time he longed to touch it and see if it really felt like sunlight.
Odette, on the other hand, was staring at him with one eyebrow raised, studiously ignoring how good his legs looked in those trousers. Damn Uberta, anyway. Derek looked much the same; devastatingly handsome, with an arrogant tilt to his mouth and his weight settled into one hip. It made the fabric of his pants stretch tight over his thighs, and Odette scowled a little more. It wasn’t fair, that he should be so gods-damned handsome. She was no real beauty, and since it seemed like there really was no way out of this, no last resort to prevent this marriage, she was sure he would go off and tumble the prettiest maid ten minutes after they were married. It wasn’t like he’d ever shown an interest in her.
Derek took three long strides and covered the space between them. “Odette,” he said, his pleasant baritone low and charming. Odette felt her face heat up and tried to will it away as Derek took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers gently. “Welcome back.”
He had never done that before.
Odette looked at him warily. “Prince Derek,” she said, sweeping into a courtesy. He smiled at her, and it was like someone had dumped a box of bricks on her head. Odette couldn’t speak through the temporary paralysis and hoped that Derek would look away and she could breathe again. Instead, they heard the faint strains of music drifting into the hall, and Derek got a look in his eyes that reminded Odette frighteningly of Queen Uberta. “Care to dance?” he asked, hand outstretched.
Odette took his hand, timidly, not sure what was going on, and Derek swept her into his arms and into a waltz. He wouldn’t stop looking at her like that; his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion, and Odette didn’t know what to do. His hands were warm, and his feet were sure; she was being led easily around the floor. It felt like floating, it felt like heaven, and she felt something turn over in her stomach and chest, something old and bitter and creaky turn into a sort of rose-light that bubbled up through her body and came out as a smile.
Derek was stunned at the smile Odette threw at him as they danced. She was beautiful, she was so beautiful, how could he have ever thought different? His mother had been right all along; Odette was the one for him, a beauty worthy of a throne and a crown, with him at her side. He spun her a little harder than necessary, and she fell, laughing, into his chest. He couldn’t take it, the warmth of her, the softness of her breasts pushed against his chest, that smile and that hair-he leaned in before she had a chance to catch her breath and pressed his lips to hers.
It felt like the earth had moved over, like a lightning bolt was soaring through his veins, like; Derek couldn’t find any more metaphors, and wasn’t particularly bothered. He didn’t want to do anything ever again, except kiss Odette, and kiss her and kiss her…
Odette felt his lips before she registered what was going on. They were soft and gentle, but urgent, and what was she supposed to do with that? Her skin prickled, his hands were burning her through the fabric of her dress, and she surged forward, locking her lips to his. It was a long kiss.
They broke apart slowly, but did not move away from each other. Derek stared at Odette, breathing hard, barely an inch from her face. He moved forward to kiss her again and she allowed it, allowed it over and over as he kept dropping kisses to her lips like prayers.
“Derek,” she breathed, and hearing his name fall from her lips like that, tremulous and hopeful, made his stomach do a flip. He made a decision.
“Arrange the marriage!” he cried as he turned away from Odette, towards the great doors behind which his mother was surely eavesdropping.
Instantly, a full band came bursting through the doors, playing a happy tune, and Uberta came rushing in with Odette’s father and about twenty servants, all of whom were pulling crackers and making streamers of crinkled paper soar through the air. Derek didn’t take the time to be stunned, used to the antics of his mother, but Odette felt as if someone had dropped a brick on her head. “I-what?” she said weakly. No one paid any attention to her.
And suddenly, what had been rose-light was now flame, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. Oh, how dare he! How dare them all! she thought, bitterly. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Derek, who had made a career out of ignoring her when he could, was now ignoring her even in this, but Uberta and her father!
“Wait,” she said, her voice even. Nothing happened. Uberta was hugging Derek, an ecstatic smile on her face. “Wait!” A few of the servants looked her way, confused and nervous.
“STOP!”
The music died. Derek, Uberta, and her father whipped around to face her, faces shocked. A small part of Odette was triumphant; yes, that’s right, you can’t ignore me now.
“Odette-what’s wrong?”
Derek sounded genuinely confused, and a lot of the frustration inside Odette just melted away. She was not made to be an angry person. She looked at Derek with sad blue eyes. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was five. You’ve never liked me before; you’ve never even been interested in having me around. Don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true. You always said you’d never marry me. So why do you want to marry me now?”
It was not, she felt, an unreasonable question. Queen Uberta looked as if she thought it certainly was.
Derek looked confused. “I…well. Look at you, you’re beautiful.” Odette blinked and then blushed. Having Prince Derek tell you, you are beautiful, that’s not something that happens every day. She stomped down on the bubbly feeling in her stomach.
“Yes, but. What else?” She looked at him expectantly. What was it he had seen in her to make him change his mind? It couldn’t just be because he thought she was pretty…oh, let it not be just because she was pretty.
Derek just looked at her, his lovely eyes blank. “What else is there?” he asked, bewildered.
Odette felt her heart break, in that moment. It was funny, she hadn’t thought she was in love with him; she’d certainly never had a hint of it before. But that was Derek-he weaseled under your skin until you could do nothing but love him. He was arrogant and foolish and if he didn’t like you, you might as well not exist, but he was everything a prince should be: sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, and a brilliant dancer to boot. Odette would have done anything for him when she was younger; had, on many occasions, and it usually got her in trouble. But she would not do this.
“The marriage is off,” she said, and her voice was thin, but the silent hall took her words and echoed them. “I’ll not marry you.” She shot him a look, but her eyes were so dark a blue he couldn’t read them, whether they spoke hate or fear or love.
Odette stonewalled her father, locking herself in her room. She had spent twelve summers in this room, and it bore the marks of her inhabitance. The servants would dutifully store anything she left, and kept her room aired out and dust-free. Odette walked to the small vanity she had demanded her father bring with them when she was fifteen. She sat down and looked at herself in the glass; she didn’t look any different, she thought. Shouldn’t a person look different when their whole world has just collapsed? Only as he’d pushed a glass knife into her heart did she realize how much she’d actually wanted to be his Queen, for him to love her as she loved him. And now…now nothing would ever be the same. She would never see him again.
The idea tore at her, and she looked around, desperate to see anything but her own face. Her damn face, that she’d never thought was anything special (Derek had never acted like it was, eyes always on the kitchen maid or visiting princess), was the instrument of her heartbreak. She’d been a fool to think he would want her for her; she didn’t doubt her beauty now. Derek only ever looked at the most beautiful girl in the room.
Her eyes fell on a pair of gold scissors, fashioned to look like a swan, the blades of the scissors the beak of the bird. She snatched them up and gathered a bunch of silky, cornflower hair in her hand. She didn’t think as she cut, as long stands of her hair fell around her feet, and when she was done, she stood up and left the room for the last time.
Derek really did not want to go down to say goodbye to Odette. The sight of her was painful-it had only been a day, and she had refused to speak to him since the Incident. Derek was convinced she would just change her mind if her left her to it.
Bromley raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you serous? Are we talking about the same Odette here?”
Derek looked at him from his perch on the window seat, and Bromley sighed. The prince had dark circles under his eyes and obviously had neither slept nor brushed his hair, which Bromley felt was more alarming than the lack of sleep. “She’s not gonna stick around, Derek,” he said, as gently as possible. “And if you don’t go say goodbye, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” Bromley put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Leave it on a good note, and maybe we can get her to come back.”
Derek’s eyes lit with an unnatural flame, and Brom suddenly felt uneasy. “Ok. I’ll go.” He got up and strode out of the library. Brom followed, not without trepidation.
“Goodbye, Prince Derek.”
Each word was painful, and Derek could barely meet her eyes. She’d cut her hair, and it hung choppily at her neck, shorter even in the front. He knew why she’d done it and the idea was like a rock in his chest. The rough cut made her even more beautiful, like a wood nymph or faerie. He still couldn’t believe she wasn’t coming back. Of course she was.
“Goodbye, Princess Odette.” He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, then steeled himself and stepped away. She’ll come back, he thought. She always comes back, no matter what I do.
He ignored the black feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
“’What else is there?’ She asks you is her beauty if the only thing you love about her, and you say ‘What else is there?’” Lord Rogers dropped his head into his hands. “You should write a book. ‘How To Offend Women In Five Syllables Or Less.”
Derek shot Rogers a dark look. Bromley chuckled. “It’s true. Is that the only reason you wanted to marry her? Because she suddenly grew into a veritable fox this year?” Bromley’s voice was easy, but his eyes were sharp, and Derek squirmed under his gaze.
“No, no. I mean, I’d never realized how beautiful she was before, but it’s not…she’s just…you know? And she has these…and she’s also so…yeah?”
Bromley and Rogers stared at him. “Try that again in English, please,” said Rogers.
Derek thrust his hands into his hair in frustration, making it stick up in all directions and giving a slightly mad look. “She’s just…she’s always been there, you know? Everywhere I turn, every summer, she’s here to beat me at cards and to challenge me to archery contests and come along when we’re hunting, even though she just makes noise and scares all the game off. And I don’t….I can’t imagine a world without her in it. She’s funny and she loves a fight and she is a damn good archer but don’t tell her I said that, and she’s brave and I love her.” Derek finished, panting slightly.
All three of them stared at each other for a moment. “Ok,” said Bromley, faintly. “Well. We-“
But Derek never heard the rest of his sentence, because at that moment the doors to the study burst open and King William’s captain of the guard stumbled in, bloodied and out of breath. The steward followed looking nervous. “I couldn’t stop him, your Highness, I am so sor-“
The captain cut him off. “I have important news-we were attacked-nearly to the docks-“
“What happened?” demanded Derek.
“The Princess.” The captain took a breath. “They attacked the King and took the Princess.”
Derek was out the door before the captain had finished his sentence.
Derek went to the stables and chose his mare Midnight. She had a white coat, which was bad for hunting, but she would follow his commands bareback, and so he hopped on. He took off, remembering that he had left his bow and quiver in his room, and had only his silver boot dagger on him. He did not stop, but spurred Midnight on faster, following the rode the King’s carriage would have taken.
It did not take him long to find the wreckage. The carriages the King and his servants had been using were overturned, and one was burning... He rushed forward, past mutilated bodies of men in King William’s livery, swords out and terror on their faces. He didn’t look too closely; he had only ever killed game before, never men.
He found King William lying among the remains of his carriage, his breathing strained. Derek crashed to a halt next to him, raising the dying King’s head to sit on his lap.
“King William? King William!”
The King opened his eyes. “Derek,” he gasped. Blood dribbled from his mouth and Derek’s heart contracted. “They took…her….they…took Odette.” Derek took the King’s hand in his and nodded. “ I know, I know. I’ll find whoever it was, King William, I swear to you I will bring Odette back to you sir, I just need you to hang on,” he looked around wildly. How would he get the King back to the castle? He felt the King grab at his hand and looked down. “Sir?”
“Derek…it’s not what it seems…it’s not what it seems!” He was looking at Derek with wide eyes, as if he could bore the meaning of this cryptic statement into Derek’s head.
“I don’t know what you mean, what do you mean?” asked Derek, his voice getting hysterical. He heard the distant sound of hooves, but King William’s hand spasmed on his, and then his head rolled back against Derek’s knees.
Derek had killed enough animals to recognize death when it came, and he crumpled over the body of the dead king, crying the kind of wracking sobs that happen when grief is too enormous even to release through tears.
She is five when she first meets Prince Derek, crown prince of Wiltshire. Well, she had met him before, when he came to her christening, but she doesn’t really count that. He is three years older than her, and his dark brown eyes are serious as his mother introduces him. Odette trots obediently forward to curtsy, but Derek is reluctant and Queen Uberta gives him a not-so-subtle shove in the back.
“Princess Odette,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’m very pleased to meet you.” He bows to her, and she curtsies in return, feeling very grown-up in her pink gown and slippers.
“Pleased to meet you, Prince Derek,” she says dutifully. She expects to feel his hand enclose hers, to feel his mouth brush the back of her fingers. (The way her father’s does, when she’s feeling particularly lonely and bored at one of the frequent parties, standing alone by the wall. She would see his large hand descend in front of her face before she would hear his voice, soft and warm asking her to dance and he would kiss her hand gently like a lady.) Odette barely catches a glimpse of the young prince’s back before he is standing next to his mother once again.
Odette supposes that was the moment she decided she didn’t like him.
Derek is again chastised by his mother-a hissed “Derek!” and a formidable look- and he comes forward with hand outstretched, and a sullen expression. Odette doesn’t want his kiss anymore, but she knows her father is watching and she wants to make him happy. She receives his kiss with a wrinkled nose and runs back to wrap herself around her father’s leg. He chuckles and ruffles her hair fondly. Odette thinks that summer in Wiltshire is not going to be very fun.
Her father made her visit every summer. There was no question of Derek visiting her, and every year when the air turned thick and the gardens were overflowing, Odette boarded a ship to Wiltshire. Her eighth summer was particularly eventful. She spent most of the time following Derek and his best friend Bromley around like a lost chick. Derek and Bromley, both eleven and convinced girls had a disease, tried everything they could to exclude her. They thought they’d had the perfect idea and built a tree house in the little glen that bordered the north end of the castle. It was rickety and made mostly out of discarded wagon- and firewood, with a few nails and a great deal of spit. Bromley in particular took pride in it, having designed the house and procured the wood himself. They were both inside, hiding both from the younger girl and the summer heat when they heard light quick steps approaching.
Odette looked up, heart quickening with hope when she spotted a flash of dark hair in the window. “Guys?” She stood under the window. “Are you in there?” The shadows in the window seemed to move before a pale hand stuck out a scroll, pinned it to the wall, and let it drop. On it, in large black lettering, were the words “NO GIRLS.” There came the loud laughter of boys, bright and superior. Odette felt her stomach drop and she felt her nose thicken and her eyes burn. No! She told herself. I will not cry! She thought about Derek, about how he always treated her like she was stupider than everyone else, the way he brushed her aside again and again and she hated it, how she had to leave her home to come to his house to spend a summer being tortured by him, and she especially hated how, in spite of everything, she kept trying to be his friend. She kept trying and trying and every time, he swept her aside like so much dust beneath his hand. Bromley only helped, his grey eyes glinting with childish cruelty as he egged Derek on.
Odette felt her cheeks begin to burn, and a furious frown grew on her face. Oh, she was so mad! Before she thought, she kicked out ferociously at the beam of wood supporting the tree house. It gave before her foot far too easily and with no more than a whisper, and she had a moment to be shocked and vaguely sure that she was going to be in trouble later, before the entire house came down on her head, Derek and Bromley with it.
They were holed up in the castle for three weeks. Odette spent the first week and a half in the medical wing fielding glares and taunts from Derek and Bromley with a broken leg and a lump the size of an egg on her head. Derek had gotten a black eye and a dislocated shoulder, Bromley a fractured ankle and bunches of scratches and splinters from the second-hand wood. Odette remembered the way her leg had made a loud “crack!” and how the pain had taken a moment to overwhelm her. In that moment she heard Derek scream, a broken shrill noise, and she wasn’t ever quite sure what had caused her to scream herself, the sudden rush of pain or how Derek had sounded.
Odette apologized when she thought the boys were asleep, her voice made wavery by tears. “I’m sorry,” she had said. “I just wanted to be in the tree house with you...”
Derek pretended to be asleep but was awake long after her sniffles had quieted.
Bromley was the one who noticed it first. “Derek,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?” Derek jumped and made frantic shushing motions at his friend, hunkering down further.
“Brom, shh!” Derek peered through the railing again. Bromley looked around. Derek was sitting on the second floor of the castle’s study library, just before the stairs, overlooking the main room. He was half lying on the floor, face hidden by the railing. And, just visible, perched on a window seat on the first floor and buried in a book was Odette. The sunlight bathing the West Wing Library turned her hair to gold, a halo around her head. Bromley had to admit she looked quite pretty for a thirteen year old, but he glanced back down at Derek.
“You totally like her, fess up!”
Odette looked up, frowning. “Bromley?”
Derek punched Bromley in the thigh and gave him a warning look.
“Hey Odette! Didn’t see you, uh, sitting there. I’m just, ah, looking. For a book. On, on dragons!”
Odette shrugged and went back to reading, and Bromley focused on slowing his heart down and getting his prince’s fingers pried off his ankle.
Later, after Derek had done this hilarious full body wiggle to get far enough to be out of Odette eyesight before he stood up, Bromley rounded on his friend. “You have a huge crush on Odette, admit it.”
Derek glared mutinously at him. “I do not.”
Bromley was having none of that and he glared right back. “I just caught you mooning over her in the library, Derek.”
Derek went through about five different uncomfortable looks that about had Brom giggling before saying “I was just. Keeping an eye on her, to make sure she wasn’t, uh, planning anything.”
“What.” Brom looked at him. “What would she be planning?”
“I,” Derek looked away, “uh, I don’t know. Something.”
“Right.” Bromley shoved at Derek. “Ever since she showed up this summer, you’ve been watching her. Last week you put a toad in her bed, which you haven’t done since we were eight, and the week before you challenged her to a race, which, what. And yesterday we had that god-awful card game in which you insisted I try and spy on her cards-which she knew I was doing, she’s not an idiot-and she still beat you. And then you pulled her braid after dinner and balanced a bucket on water on her door.”
Derek shifted. Odette had been really, really mad, which was why he had been hiding from her. He had ruined her favorite blue dress with the water trick, and she still hadn’t quite gotten over the toad thing either. But he didn’t have a crush on her. Or, ok, so maybe he had a little, tiny thing, but he wasn’t going to indulge his mother in her fantasy of future marriage if he could help it. It was just that she had gotten a little taller, and her eyes were really blue and she had this really cute nose-but it didn’t matter.
He realized Bromley was staring at him expectantly. He coughed. “Yeah, ok, I might,” he said, looking somewhere over Bromley’s left shoulder. Bromley thought for a moment about teasing him, but something in Derek’s face stopped him.
“Well, you could do worse,” he shrugged. “Half of the village has a crush on her, and most of the kitchen staff as well.”
Derek, taking it for the peace offering it was, laughed and cuffed Bromley lightly on the head. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go see if we can scrounge up something from said kitchen staff.”
Bromley has always been Derek’s best friend. Queen Uberta’s midwife, one of her best friends, had married a soldier. They had lived happily together, euphoric at the news of her pregnancy, when he had been killed in battle. It had not been in war, but merely bandits preying upon the words surrounding his village. Uberta had taken in Elaine, and Bromley had been born four months before Derek. They were first, fast friends, and caused quite a lot of havoc around the castle. The only time he and Bromley had been separated was for Odette’s christening. Elaine didn’t want to let her three year old son sail across the ocean, and Uberta understood. Bromley and Derek had not, and threw matching massive tantrums until they wore themselves down. Derek had missed Brom terribly throughout the whole trip, and he threw such fits about being separated that after that neither mother would part them. Wherever one went, the other followed. Bromley was educated as Derek was, learned all the princely etiquette like how to slay a dragon, how to rescue a damsel, which fork he was supposed to use first, and all one hundred and six different bows that could be used and when it was proper to use them. Derek never seemed to care much, but Bromley paid attention. He couldn’t ever remember which glass was for dinner and which for dessert, or to keep his elbows off the table, but he could remember the last two hundred years of Wiltshire’s history, and he could dance almost as well as Derek. Despite not caring, Derek was a sponge and could rattle off answers without even appearing to think when their tutor questioned them, constantly putting Bromley to shame. Bromley didn’t really mind; Derek was the crown prince. He was supposed to be better than everyone.
Bromley’s one skill that was better than Derek’s was the art of sword fighting. He loved it, loved the weight of the sword, the elegance of the dance, and of course, how he could always beat Derek in a sword fight. Their teacher, Vannay, despaired of Derek, who would always grin sheepishly after a match. Bromley would give him a hand up and Derek would clap him on the shoulder. “Why do I need to learn,” he would say with a quick bright grin at Brom, “Bromley can protect me!”
Bromley would look at Derek and grin back, chest puffed with pride.
Bromley studies the chessboard with narrowed eyes. Derek is standing by the window, one eye on Odette, who’s having archery lessons. Uberta had disapproved, but King William was pretty much wrapped around Odette’s little finger and thus there she was, long hair pulled out of her face, bow in hand.
“I mean, when is she ever going to need to know how?” Derek is asking, eyes fixed on the princess. “It’s not like she goes hunting or anything.”
Bromley shrugs. “I don’t know.” He debates moving his knight, then decides to go for it. “Your move,” he says.
Derek walks over to the board and glances down. He makes his move and takes down Bromley’s knight and a stray pawn before walking back over to the window. “Can you imagine her in a fight?” Derek says, voice contemptuous. “She would look ridiculous; no one would fight her.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” Bromley says, “takes them by surprise.” He surreptitiously nudges one of Derek’s rooks off the board, then makes a studious face when Derek turns around. He slides his bishop forward a few places. “Your move.”
Derek scowls. “Whatever.” He comes over, and in a move that Bromley so did not see coming, corners him. “Checkmate.”
Bromley glares at Derek. “Best 6 out of 10,” he says and Derek quirks his head in challenge.
It’s not like he hadn’t known she was pretty; he wasn’t blind. It was just that at fifteen she had been stick thin with a lot of pimples, and sixteen hadn’t been much better. She had gained weight over the winter, enough that she spent all summer wandering about avoiding mirrors and doing serious damage to Derek’s chocolate stash. He had considered carrying around a hand mirror to torment her with, but he had caught her one morning crying in the garden because she’d seen a particularly unflattering reflection in the kitchen window. Derek hadn’t had the heart to whip out the mirror, and he kept it in his pocket, hard and cold all afternoon.
Last summer she had been losing a little weight, but her face still had spots and her hair was a little frizzy.
Now, however. Now. If Derek hadn’t already decided that this whole betrothal thing wasn’t so bad (though he’d never say it out loud, or to his mother) then he certainly would have then. He had been waiting in the Great Hall for her arrival, and his mother and Rodgers had mysteriously disappeared when the doors opened and a figure was shoved through. Odette turned around and sort of grimaced at him, but he was too shocked to do much but stare back. She was wearing some sort of gown, and he wasn’t up with what was fashionable, but it was far tighter and slinkier than anything he’d seen her in before. Also, the deep blue made her eyes (those eyes, those clear-day-blue eyes) seem huge and bright. Her hair fell in soft straight layers and not for the first time he longed to touch it and see if it really felt like sunlight.
Odette, on the other hand, was staring at him with one eyebrow raised, studiously ignoring how good his legs looked in those trousers. Damn Uberta, anyway. Derek looked much the same; devastatingly handsome, with an arrogant tilt to his mouth and his weight settled into one hip. It made the fabric of his pants stretch tight over his thighs, and Odette scowled a little more. It wasn’t fair, that he should be so gods-damned handsome. She was no real beauty, and since it seemed like there really was no way out of this, no last resort to prevent this marriage, she was sure he would go off and tumble the prettiest maid ten minutes after they were married. It wasn’t like he’d ever shown an interest in her.
Derek took three long strides and covered the space between them. “Odette,” he said, his pleasant baritone low and charming. Odette felt her face heat up and tried to will it away as Derek took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers gently. “Welcome back.”
He had never done that before.
Odette looked at him warily. “Prince Derek,” she said, sweeping into a courtesy. He smiled at her, and it was like someone had dumped a box of bricks on her head. Odette couldn’t speak through the temporary paralysis and hoped that Derek would look away and she could breathe again. Instead, they heard the faint strains of music drifting into the hall, and Derek got a look in his eyes that reminded Odette frighteningly of Queen Uberta. “Care to dance?” he asked, hand outstretched.
Odette took his hand, timidly, not sure what was going on, and Derek swept her into his arms and into a waltz. He wouldn’t stop looking at her like that; his eyes dark with some unnamed emotion, and Odette didn’t know what to do. His hands were warm, and his feet were sure; she was being led easily around the floor. It felt like floating, it felt like heaven, and she felt something turn over in her stomach and chest, something old and bitter and creaky turn into a sort of rose-light that bubbled up through her body and came out as a smile.
Derek was stunned at the smile Odette threw at him as they danced. She was beautiful, she was so beautiful, how could he have ever thought different? His mother had been right all along; Odette was the one for him, a beauty worthy of a throne and a crown, with him at her side. He spun her a little harder than necessary, and she fell, laughing, into his chest. He couldn’t take it, the warmth of her, the softness of her breasts pushed against his chest, that smile and that hair-he leaned in before she had a chance to catch her breath and pressed his lips to hers.
It felt like the earth had moved over, like a lightning bolt was soaring through his veins, like; Derek couldn’t find any more metaphors, and wasn’t particularly bothered. He didn’t want to do anything ever again, except kiss Odette, and kiss her and kiss her…
Odette felt his lips before she registered what was going on. They were soft and gentle, but urgent, and what was she supposed to do with that? Her skin prickled, his hands were burning her through the fabric of her dress, and she surged forward, locking her lips to his. It was a long kiss.
They broke apart slowly, but did not move away from each other. Derek stared at Odette, breathing hard, barely an inch from her face. He moved forward to kiss her again and she allowed it, allowed it over and over as he kept dropping kisses to her lips like prayers.
“Derek,” she breathed, and hearing his name fall from her lips like that, tremulous and hopeful, made his stomach do a flip. He made a decision.
“Arrange the marriage!” he cried as he turned away from Odette, towards the great doors behind which his mother was surely eavesdropping.
Instantly, a full band came bursting through the doors, playing a happy tune, and Uberta came rushing in with Odette’s father and about twenty servants, all of whom were pulling crackers and making streamers of crinkled paper soar through the air. Derek didn’t take the time to be stunned, used to the antics of his mother, but Odette felt as if someone had dropped a brick on her head. “I-what?” she said weakly. No one paid any attention to her.
And suddenly, what had been rose-light was now flame, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. Oh, how dare he! How dare them all! she thought, bitterly. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Derek, who had made a career out of ignoring her when he could, was now ignoring her even in this, but Uberta and her father!
“Wait,” she said, her voice even. Nothing happened. Uberta was hugging Derek, an ecstatic smile on her face. “Wait!” A few of the servants looked her way, confused and nervous.
“STOP!”
The music died. Derek, Uberta, and her father whipped around to face her, faces shocked. A small part of Odette was triumphant; yes, that’s right, you can’t ignore me now.
“Odette-what’s wrong?”
Derek sounded genuinely confused, and a lot of the frustration inside Odette just melted away. She was not made to be an angry person. She looked at Derek with sad blue eyes. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was five. You’ve never liked me before; you’ve never even been interested in having me around. Don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true. You always said you’d never marry me. So why do you want to marry me now?”
It was not, she felt, an unreasonable question. Queen Uberta looked as if she thought it certainly was.
Derek looked confused. “I…well. Look at you, you’re beautiful.” Odette blinked and then blushed. Having Prince Derek tell you, you are beautiful, that’s not something that happens every day. She stomped down on the bubbly feeling in her stomach.
“Yes, but. What else?” She looked at him expectantly. What was it he had seen in her to make him change his mind? It couldn’t just be because he thought she was pretty…oh, let it not be just because she was pretty.
Derek just looked at her, his lovely eyes blank. “What else is there?” he asked, bewildered.
Odette felt her heart break, in that moment. It was funny, she hadn’t thought she was in love with him; she’d certainly never had a hint of it before. But that was Derek-he weaseled under your skin until you could do nothing but love him. He was arrogant and foolish and if he didn’t like you, you might as well not exist, but he was everything a prince should be: sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, and a brilliant dancer to boot. Odette would have done anything for him when she was younger; had, on many occasions, and it usually got her in trouble. But she would not do this.
“The marriage is off,” she said, and her voice was thin, but the silent hall took her words and echoed them. “I’ll not marry you.” She shot him a look, but her eyes were so dark a blue he couldn’t read them, whether they spoke hate or fear or love.
Odette stonewalled her father, locking herself in her room. She had spent twelve summers in this room, and it bore the marks of her inhabitance. The servants would dutifully store anything she left, and kept her room aired out and dust-free. Odette walked to the small vanity she had demanded her father bring with them when she was fifteen. She sat down and looked at herself in the glass; she didn’t look any different, she thought. Shouldn’t a person look different when their whole world has just collapsed? Only as he’d pushed a glass knife into her heart did she realize how much she’d actually wanted to be his Queen, for him to love her as she loved him. And now…now nothing would ever be the same. She would never see him again.
The idea tore at her, and she looked around, desperate to see anything but her own face. Her damn face, that she’d never thought was anything special (Derek had never acted like it was, eyes always on the kitchen maid or visiting princess), was the instrument of her heartbreak. She’d been a fool to think he would want her for her; she didn’t doubt her beauty now. Derek only ever looked at the most beautiful girl in the room.
Her eyes fell on a pair of gold scissors, fashioned to look like a swan, the blades of the scissors the beak of the bird. She snatched them up and gathered a bunch of silky, cornflower hair in her hand. She didn’t think as she cut, as long stands of her hair fell around her feet, and when she was done, she stood up and left the room for the last time.
Derek really did not want to go down to say goodbye to Odette. The sight of her was painful-it had only been a day, and she had refused to speak to him since the Incident. Derek was convinced she would just change her mind if her left her to it.
Bromley raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you serous? Are we talking about the same Odette here?”
Derek looked at him from his perch on the window seat, and Bromley sighed. The prince had dark circles under his eyes and obviously had neither slept nor brushed his hair, which Bromley felt was more alarming than the lack of sleep. “She’s not gonna stick around, Derek,” he said, as gently as possible. “And if you don’t go say goodbye, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” Bromley put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Leave it on a good note, and maybe we can get her to come back.”
Derek’s eyes lit with an unnatural flame, and Brom suddenly felt uneasy. “Ok. I’ll go.” He got up and strode out of the library. Brom followed, not without trepidation.
“Goodbye, Prince Derek.”
Each word was painful, and Derek could barely meet her eyes. She’d cut her hair, and it hung choppily at her neck, shorter even in the front. He knew why she’d done it and the idea was like a rock in his chest. The rough cut made her even more beautiful, like a wood nymph or faerie. He still couldn’t believe she wasn’t coming back. Of course she was.
“Goodbye, Princess Odette.” He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, then steeled himself and stepped away. She’ll come back, he thought. She always comes back, no matter what I do.
He ignored the black feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
“’What else is there?’ She asks you is her beauty if the only thing you love about her, and you say ‘What else is there?’” Lord Rogers dropped his head into his hands. “You should write a book. ‘How To Offend Women In Five Syllables Or Less.”
Derek shot Rogers a dark look. Bromley chuckled. “It’s true. Is that the only reason you wanted to marry her? Because she suddenly grew into a veritable fox this year?” Bromley’s voice was easy, but his eyes were sharp, and Derek squirmed under his gaze.
“No, no. I mean, I’d never realized how beautiful she was before, but it’s not…she’s just…you know? And she has these…and she’s also so…yeah?”
Bromley and Rogers stared at him. “Try that again in English, please,” said Rogers.
Derek thrust his hands into his hair in frustration, making it stick up in all directions and giving a slightly mad look. “She’s just…she’s always been there, you know? Everywhere I turn, every summer, she’s here to beat me at cards and to challenge me to archery contests and come along when we’re hunting, even though she just makes noise and scares all the game off. And I don’t….I can’t imagine a world without her in it. She’s funny and she loves a fight and she is a damn good archer but don’t tell her I said that, and she’s brave and I love her.” Derek finished, panting slightly.
All three of them stared at each other for a moment. “Ok,” said Bromley, faintly. “Well. We-“
But Derek never heard the rest of his sentence, because at that moment the doors to the study burst open and King William’s captain of the guard stumbled in, bloodied and out of breath. The steward followed looking nervous. “I couldn’t stop him, your Highness, I am so sor-“
The captain cut him off. “I have important news-we were attacked-nearly to the docks-“
“What happened?” demanded Derek.
“The Princess.” The captain took a breath. “They attacked the King and took the Princess.”
Derek was out the door before the captain had finished his sentence.
Derek went to the stables and chose his mare Midnight. She had a white coat, which was bad for hunting, but she would follow his commands bareback, and so he hopped on. He took off, remembering that he had left his bow and quiver in his room, and had only his silver boot dagger on him. He did not stop, but spurred Midnight on faster, following the rode the King’s carriage would have taken.
It did not take him long to find the wreckage. The carriages the King and his servants had been using were overturned, and one was burning... He rushed forward, past mutilated bodies of men in King William’s livery, swords out and terror on their faces. He didn’t look too closely; he had only ever killed game before, never men.
He found King William lying among the remains of his carriage, his breathing strained. Derek crashed to a halt next to him, raising the dying King’s head to sit on his lap.
“King William? King William!”
The King opened his eyes. “Derek,” he gasped. Blood dribbled from his mouth and Derek’s heart contracted. “They took…her….they…took Odette.” Derek took the King’s hand in his and nodded. “ I know, I know. I’ll find whoever it was, King William, I swear to you I will bring Odette back to you sir, I just need you to hang on,” he looked around wildly. How would he get the King back to the castle? He felt the King grab at his hand and looked down. “Sir?”
“Derek…it’s not what it seems…it’s not what it seems!” He was looking at Derek with wide eyes, as if he could bore the meaning of this cryptic statement into Derek’s head.
“I don’t know what you mean, what do you mean?” asked Derek, his voice getting hysterical. He heard the distant sound of hooves, but King William’s hand spasmed on his, and then his head rolled back against Derek’s knees.
Derek had killed enough animals to recognize death when it came, and he crumpled over the body of the dead king, crying the kind of wracking sobs that happen when grief is too enormous even to release through tears.