[Queen Anabella]

Chapter Four
Infatuation

Darling Notebook,
Captivated. That is what I am - captivated. I am deeply and completely captivated by the Prince. Today is my eighteenth day in Golon. In two days time, I shall be gone and traveling back to Aria with King Ferland and his court.

It is without a doubt that the Prince of Golon is smitten with me. Leona and Bellatrix are telling me everyday. Also, any news of Prince Amantius and I are spreading throughout the castle like forest fire. The nobles and servants alike in Golon's court are acting with the utmost courtesy towards me... almost too friendly for comfort. The lads that usually surround me are gone. I am marked. I am the Prince's territory. Of course, this comes with awards.

It has been eighteen and a half days of heavy seducing on my part, but heavy giving on the Prince's part. By the eighth day in Golon, the Prince has already ordered for ten dresses to be made for me. By the tenth day, I was positively drowning in jewels. The list of ravish gifts for me goes on and on - fifteen new dresses, five new cloaks, ten ladies to wait on me, a pair of magnificent chestnut horses, sweets, and the Prince even presented me with a large platter of pineapple shipped all the way from the furthest reaches of the world. However, yesterday was what I felt as my greatest triumph. Yesterday, the Prince ordered my rooms to be moved adjacent to his. The gossip and rumors following this move has been horrific. I loved it. The court, of course, is filled with scandals and rumors; however, for the Crown Prince of Golon, even the tiniest bit of indiscretion becomes the talk of the court. He was never known to be a philanderer. He was always the perfect son who took the greatest pleasure in hunting. He was the untouchable Prince who melted even the iciest of hearts with his innocent smile. That's all changed, Darling Notebook, that's all changed.

He buries me in gifts, coddles me with praise, and guards me vigilantly with an air of chivalrous ferocity. Everywhere I go, people who have been conversing in excited tones immediately silence themselves to dip into a respected curtsy or bow. Most of them chatter eagerly with me, dropping amusingly obvious hints on favors to ask for the Prince. My Prince.

Everyone has a different view on the behavior between the Prince and me. Some seem to encourage this act, hoping for a future Queen. Some regard me with the deepest of hatred and jealousy. Some see me as a whore, pulling out tricks from my bodice to entice him with my sinful wiles. However, it does not matter to me what they think. What matters is that I keep the Prince carefully wrapped around my fingers.

This morning, Stella asked me if I love the Prince. The question had been rather blunt and I was glad her voice was out of the earshot of my scandal loving ladies-in-waiting. The question had sent me reeling. For the first time in my life, I had no answer. I did not know if I loved the Prince; I do not even know what love feels like.
However, I now have my answer. I have to admit that I like the Prince better than most of the people in my life. However, can that qualify as love? If he was stripped of his wealth and titles, would I still give him the time of day? No.

Love. The word sounds foolish to my ears. Who needs love when you can have status and fortune? Who needs love when you can have lust and desire? Who needs love when you can have the feeling of property and land under your title? No one, that's my answer.
Furthermore, love is a word that is too complicated... almost too human for the court. Such a word does not exist within the rich walls of the palace. Such a word can never exist within royalty. Lust does. Infatuation does. But love... love cannot in a crowd of such loveless swine.

Darling Notebook, I am exhausting myself. I have to attend another ball tonight and I am already tired from all the preparing and primping. I can hardly breathe in my unusually tight dress. I shall be gone now... I'll write to you later about the ball.

As lovely as Ever,
Your Astrophel

***

Alas, the ball is almost too magnificent for my eyes. The great ballroom is richly decorated with bells and flowers. How they managed to produce such a display of flowers in winter, I shall never know. Of course, there is the center piece of the room. It is a statue, a statue of ice. It depicts our Goddess Rowina with her glorious flowing robes and golden apples. The sculpture is so lifelike that I cannot imagine how the artist created such a look of humor and mischief within the cold eyes of the statue.

Tonight, I believe I rival even the beauty of Rowina. My dress is one of the brightest of silver. My headdress is beaded with sequins of delicate pearls and jewels. My rather large feet are cleverly concealed inside the warmness of my slippers, lined with fur on the inside.

Usually, I disapprove of the use of paints upon one's face, but tonight, I allowed one of my ladies to apply the tiniest hint of rouge upon my cheekbones. I am looking quite dazzling indeed.

Oh my, I've forgotten to tell about the newest accessory on me - the Prince. I have always known the delight of being in the center of attention, but tonight... tonight was different. Walking down the grand staircase with the Prince attached to my side can be said as one of my most satisfying memories. The look of contorted jealousy was visible on just about every maiden's face. Oh, the moment of pure joy. I still feel the swell of the powerful feeling as I am reviving this moment.

Taking a small sip from my goblet of wine, I send a small smile to the Prince as I notice he is looking at me. His dark hair falls slightly into his face. Unconsciously, he takes his hand and runs it through his locks. His face is so handsome, so shining with boyish enthusiasm that I cannot find the will to tear my eyes away from him.

"Daughter," a cold voice interrupts my thoughts.

"M'lord," I answer, wrenching my eyes off the Prince. I drop into a small curtsy and look up at my father expectantly.

"Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens, daughter?" my father asks me with a voice like poisoned honey. His sickly sweet voice did not seem to reach his eyes or relax the tense muscles upon his face.

No, I would not like to take a walk with you. In fact, I despise you, have you noticed that? Or, perhaps you are so consumed in your scheming you do not notice such a trivial matter? My love means nothing to you, does it, Father?

"Yes, it will be my delight and pleasure," I answer, mimicking his sugary tone.

I take his arm and he leads me out of a side door and into the bitterly chilling cold of the west garden. I know I'm going to regret this. After leading me near the side of the palace to conceal our presence, my father turns back to the unfeeling man I know him so well as.

"Astrophel," he says nastily, practically spitting my name out, "we are going to go back to our country in two days, as you may very well know. I want an invitation back by that time; do you understand me, Girl? I want the Prince to invite you back to Golon. Your job is only half done. I will have you wedded to Prince Amantius by the next winter." He pauses, looking at me coldly.

"You need me now, Father," I say back to him, my tone equally chilling. "You need me. I am a step in your stairway to power. If I choose to neglect your wishes, you can do nothing to stop me. I have the Prince behind me, now. I can ask for his protection. I no longer have to take commands and summons from you." I am angry. Oh lords, I am angry. I have never defied my father's wishes before. I can hear the frantic pounding of my heart as it beats so fast. My breath is uneven and I try hard to control my flaring anger.
There is a pause.

"That's where you're wrong, daughter," my father replies with a chilling smile, leaning dangerously close to me. He lifts my hair away from my ear and whispers softly, "The fool, that Prince's love does not protection make. You are seeking shelter where there are none to offer. No one can help you. You are quite alone, daughter." Suddenly, he pushes me hard against the wall, knocking me against the solid stone bricks. Multiple stabs of pain dart through my body. "Don't let the Prince's mindless passion get to your head," he says, more loudly now, "remember that you were created by me, and mine to break. Mine, alone." With that, he placed a smile back upon his face.

"Now, daughter, don't be foolish," he coaxes, his voice so soft yet edged with an undeniable ripple of malice. "Take my arm and let's go back to the ball. Your Prince will be expecting you."

I am taking large, calming breaths. The overwhelming feeling of pure loathing chokes me, taking residence somewhere in my abdominals. The feeling is growing stronger and stronger, like a sphere of emotion, swelling to a size I cannot control.

"Leave me be," I reply softly, turning my head away from him. I fear that I will explode with rage if I see his vile face one more time. My voice is quivering and my whole body is shaking with uncontrollable passion. Rebellious tears are making their way rapidly to my eyes. I blink them away. I will not cry in front of my father.

A low chuckle escapes through the mouth of Father, releasing itself into the still night. "Suit yourself," he answers. He bends his back into a highly exaggerated bow, mocking me with his barely suppressible giggles. With a last look at me, Father finally leaves.

I slowly sink to the ground, the wall no longer providing enough support for my weak legs. I gasp and choke upon my breath. My eyes are burning. I want to scream. I want to kill. I take a few more breathes. No, I reason with myself, I am being weak. This is a society ruled by men. It is pointless and foolish to rebel. I am being foolish with my ridiculous tears.

I am slowly returning to normal. My hands are still shaking and my teeth are still chattering from my anger, however, my eyes are no longer burning and I finally have the reign over my emotions. Emotions, they'll ruin everything for me one day.

"Astrophel?" a voice calls. The voice is gentle, caring, something that I did not want to hear right now when I have just barely controlled my emotions.

"Yes, right here," I reply, quickly standing up and roughly wiping the wetness from my eyes. "Right here, Amantius."

A dark figure appears before me. His figure is silhouetted by the thousands of candle light that peeks through the open doors of the ballroom. "Astrophel," the Prince calls, surprised. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the ballroom?" He approaches me slowly, sensing my discomfort. Placing his hand against my arm, he asks again, "Why are you in the gardens, Astrophel?"

That is all it takes. A steady stream of tears erupts from my eyes and snakes its way down my face. I fling my arm around the Prince's neck and bury my face on his chest. At first, the Prince tenses his body at the sudden movement. However, he quickly puts his arms around me and squeezes me tightly into him. I cry harder than ever at this act of affection.

I don't remember the last time I cried this zealously. I am miserable. I am seething. I am filled with one million emotions of all different kinds. Some are good, some are bad, and some are painful and depressing.

My mind is a brilliant flash of colors as I revive the most painful moments of my life. It's amazing how fast the forbidden memories come back to you as soon as you open the gates to your grief just a sliver. I remember today. I remember the triumphant and teasing look upon my father's face. I remember his jeering speech and laughter.

I remember the months before my mother died. Her mahogany smile, her downcast eye. I remember her gentle tone of voice that had soothed me to sleep on those many weary nights. I remember her telling me to give up. Give up on the world ruled by arrogant men who think they can treat you as well and as badly as they want to.

I sob even harder upon the Prince's chest. He is placing comforting kisses upon my hair. My face is twisted together in unimaginable pain and misery. My whole face feels wet, I no longer feel anything in my limbs... my whole body is numb in grief.

I just cry. I cry for everything. I cry for nothing. Years of holding back everything suddenly comes rushing towards me with fiery revenge. I cry to get the pain out...the sadness out...the gut-wrenching feeling of desolation, despair, and gloomy sorrow. My world of order and coldness that I have so painstakingly created suddenly is spinning out of control. My world is spinning and I cannot even think properly. I cry, I sob, I wail with passionate tears of joy, sadness, and dejection. Every memory of my life flashes before my eyes. As I look at the memories, I suddenly realize how utterly useless my life had been. I have been nothing. I still am nothing. I am just a silly little girl who follows every command her bastard of a father had ever thrown at her.

I don't know how long I have been crying. The raging winter winds sweep past my ear. I hear its howling cry, matching the one of my anguish. Snow is slowly falling upon the Prince and I. I lift my face away from his chest and am embarrassed to find that the entire front of his silk shirt is stained with my tears. I sniff heartily. I shudder and shiver intensely against the Prince.

"Shhh..." he says, hugging my tightly. I am surprised to find that he, too, is shivering slightly. Until now, I had not noticed the cold of the night.

I smile and let out a small, watery laugh. "I must look a sight."

"You always look a sight," the Prince replies, rubbing my cold arms vigorously, trying to bring feeling into them again.

"No, I mean a frightful sight. I look a frightful sight. My face must be all red and my eyes must be all swollen," I answer, lifting my green eyes to look at his shining brown ones.

"You can never be frightful," the Prince says. The corners of his lips tug a little to form the tiniest trace of a grin. "Would you like to return to the ball?"

I silently shake my head no. I didn't want to see anyone. I didn't want to see my father, most of all.

"Alright," he says, readjusting our position and taking my hand into his own. "We'll go to my rooms. I know a way into the castle without passing through crowds of people,"
I nod. He leads me on; his hand is still clasped onto mine. I feel a small thrill, enjoying the fact that the Prince and I will be the only people not at the ball.

We walk out of the garden and enter the main courtyard. The world is just beginning to be blanketed by snow. A crowd of soft snowflakes drifts from the heavens and falls gently upon the ground. The moon shines brightly above us, hanging dangerously on the cloudless night sky. If the Prince and I are not freezing half to our deaths, I suppose I would have found the midnight adventure quite romantic.

"We're here. Climb in," the Prince says, pointing to an area of the stone wall slightly above our heads. I glance at him. I must have not been paying any attention to where we were going.

"We're where?" I ask, understanding the stupidity of the question.

The Prince's eyes spark as he answers, "The servant's door. This is the way our servants sneak in and out of the castle to perform certain... deeds."

I did not see it before, but the empty space of wall the Prince is pointing to is actually a very discreet door. The darkness and snow had made it hard for me to see the small entrance.

"Never mind, I'll go in first and then pull you through," the Prince says authoritatively. He reaches up and swings open the small door. The door is about five feet off the ground, studded inside the walls. The Prince hooks his hands at the floor of the door and jumps, swinging his leg up as he goes. With very little struggle, he is up inside the entrance, holding his hand down to me to help me somehow miraculously climb five feet of wall.
I take his hand and he firmly squeezes it in response. "Alright," I mutter under my breath. I hitch up my skirts and attempt to swing my legs up as he had done, my feet pedal aimlessly on the stone bricked wall, unsuccessfully trying to jump up to the door. I can hardly breathe because of the tightness of my corset. That, in addition to the shivering and extra gasps of air I have to take because of the glacial weather outside makes it nearly an impossible task to try to scale five feet of smooth wall. "This is impossible," I say, voicing my thoughts.

"It's not impossible... I did it didn't I?" the Prince replies, giving me an encouraging nod of his head.

It's pointless to tell him about the corset and the fact that my dress weighs down on me like a ton of bricks. I let go of his hand and step away from the wall. The Prince's face suddenly slackens into a puddle of disappointment. "You want to go back to the ball?"
"No," I answer, slightly irritated. My teeth are chattering beyond belief and my whole body is shivering. I am in no mood to be questioned about my intentions. Quickly, before I regret this action, I strip off my multiple layers of thick petticoats.

"M'lady!" the Prince cries in open-mouthed surprise.

Before he can say more, I throw up my bundle of petticoats at him. "Here, hold that," I yell at him.

He catches the mess easily and now, his face is no longer an expression shock. The beginning of a very large grin is starting to form.

"We tell no one of this," I say to him, while busily taking off my corset as well. "Throw down your coat, will you, Amantius?" I ask him, jumping up and down in attempts to not faint and die in the snow.

He nods silently and throws down his long coat. It is thin and not at all very warm. However, it will keep me from running through the royal palace of Golon with nothing but my drawers on.

"You see the troubles I go through, your majesty," I say, tying his coat around my middle. My voice is shaking from the cold. If I survive this little adventure and get near a fire, I shall never leave it again!

"Yes, I see with exceptional clarity, M'lady," the Prince answers, his lips forming into an amused smile.

"I am in no mood to be mocked," I answer, looking up at him and frowning.

"I apologize, M'lady," he answers, his smile growing wider with every passing moment. The Prince extends his hand down at me once again, "Now if I may help you up..."

I look at him with my eyes slightly narrowed. Here I am about to freeze solid and he has the energy to be amused!

After a pause, the Prince says, "Unless, of course, M'lady is planning on taking off more of her clothes?"

"I will not," I answer, and take his hand unwillingly. Whatever happened to the sweet and shy Prince?

This time when I jump up and try to reach the door, it goes much easily. As I begin to struggle, I notice that I am actually holding in a breath of air, as if there was still a corset to torment me. I let it out and take a deep breath of icy fresh night air. Oh! Air! This is wonderful! I shall never wear a corset again!

I swing my legs up and hook my foot to the floor of the door. I use the momentum to propel my entire body up, with the helpful pull of the Prince's hand. I collapse upon the narrow tunnel in which I find myself, breathing in and out deeply.

"That was rather difficult," I comment, in between breathes of air.

"I quite agree," the Prince replies. He nods gravely.

I look about my surroundings. It seems that we have ended up in a narrow tunnel that leads to... well, I cannot see what it leads to. 'Tis too dark. There is barely enough space for two people to go through in width and the ceiling is so short that I cannot possibly stand up and walk. Will we have to crawl through these filthy tunnels?

"I apologize, Astrophel, but I'm afraid we will have to proceed a bit of our journey on all fours," the Prince answers my silent question. It's almost as if he can see my thoughts.

I wave his apology away. "I am already almost dead from the coldness of the night. What's a bit of crawling to me?"

"Er...would you like to wear my clothes, then, Lady?" he asks unsurely, looking at my tired face in search for answers.

"And run the risk of someone seeing the Crown Prince of Golon running stark naked within the palace? I wouldn't dream of it!" I answer, adding a bit of sarcasm to my voice.

"Well, it was just a suggestion," the Prince replies, his eyes and voice both very downcast. I can't help but feel a bit of compassion for the man before me. He has had to forgo a very long session of listening to me sob against him and the shock of seeing me naked... not that it's unpleasant for him.

"I'm sorry for being so irritable," I say softly, crawling closer to him, "I just want to get to your room a bit faster. I am terribly cold. And I know you are, too." I lean close to his face and place a minute kiss on his lips, hoping that he could forgive me of being a bit more than straightforward tonight.

To my surprise, the Prince kisses me back with fierce passion. I part my lips and he takes the chance to deepen the kiss. He takes his hand and places it behind my head, stroking my hair tenderly. I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his tongue gently massaging mine.

I push him away reluctantly and say, "We should get to your room." I pause, suddenly noticing how suggestive it sounded, "well, not that I'm hinting that we should do anything in your room, of course. It's just that-" I sigh. "Forget it. I am acting stupid."

The Prince gently brushes his thumb against my cheek. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the touch.

"But, I don't want to go back to my room anymore," he says, his voice almost whining.

"Yes, but there is going to be a fire inside your room. We can either stay here, freeze, and kiss. Or, we can go back to your room, light a fire, and have a cup of hot cider," I try to persuade him. I feel as if I am speaking to a toddler, coaxing him to stop playing in the mud and go back inside the house.

Acting like a true prince should, Amantius crosses his arms and pushes his lower lip out, slightly. "I want both," he demands.

"Well," I smile at him, "we have already had our fair share of kissing and freezing. I think it's time we moved on to the fire and the cider."

Taking his silence for agreement, I say cheerfully, "Lead on, Amantius."

With a frown and a small unhappy huff, the Prince crawls in front of me and I follow him through the dark tunnels.

***

"What if someone sees me in this state?" I ask, gesturing to my drawers and the thin coat I have on.

"You have no need to worry," the Prince says next to me, quickly guiding our way through the palace corridors. "Everyone who loves to gossip is at the ball."

That's not very comforting. However, I keep my silence and tip toe next to him.

"We're here," he says, a smile of relief apparent on his face. We stop in front of a set of double doors.

I feel my legs almost giving out underneath me in relief. I can see flickering through the crack beneath the door. Fire! Warmth! Without a word, I run towards the door, shoving it open and sprinting through his room until I am right next to his fireplace. I gingerly place my hands in front of the flames, hoping to warm it up somehow.

Unlike my rooms, the Prince's rooms are thickly carpeted. Tapestries and luxuries of every kind can be seen throughout the small estate. Suddenly, something very warm and very wooly covers me. I turn around to see the Prince's face next to mine. He is busy tucking the blanket around me, making sure I'm warm.

"How about drinks for us?" I ask.

"Your wish is my command," he replies, standing up next to me and bowing formally.
I laugh. "Fine, and don't come back until you've found them," I demand, my eyes sparkling.

With a curt nod of his head, he is off. I turn my eyes back on the fire and tug the blanket tightly around me. The whole night had been hectic. I want to disappear. I don't want to face tomorrow. I don't want to face my father. I don't want to face my life. I know what's going to come tomorrow, which is partially why I don't want to face it. Some people fear the face of the unknown. I fear the face of the known, the ordinary, the routine.

I've never actually hated lying. Gods, I lie almost as easily as I breathe. It's always been part of my life ever since my childhood. I had never felt guilty about it; I've never felt remorse or even regret for what I say. However, I suppose the people I've had to lie to never really loved or cared for me. They were people that I, in turn, didn't care about. Lying to the Prince is so much more different. Faking my love for him, faking the fact that I care is just so much more difficult knowing the fact that he does care.

I feel like I don't even have the right to my own thoughts and opinions. After all, they don't account for anything. My whole life rests in the hands of the puppeteers, or in this case, my father. I have my script, I have my commands, and I have my duties. Until today, I had never felt so bored by all of this. I had always taken every new play I was given as a challenge, every challenge I was given a play. They were all lies that led to... what? What is in it for me? I've never actually thought about that. I've done everything my father had ever told me to do. After nineteen years of this, I can't help but think about what I've accumulated. Every memory that I have seems to surround the commands I am given. I've never done anything for myself. It's always for my father. Always for my family.

I sigh. It's best not to hinder to long upon this thought. It's a dangerous path and the further I go, the more trouble I will receive.

"I've gotten the drinks, m'lady requested," a pleasant voice rings behind me.

I turn around; a smile fixes itself on my face. "Wonderful," I say, standing up.

"I could not find cider, but we do have cognac," Amantius says, pouring the liquor evenly into two glasses.

I wrap the blanket around myself, fashioning it into a toga. I take one of the glasses from him and sip it slowly, letting the brandy burn its way down my throat.

"I'm missing the ball," I say as I make my way across his room to sit on his massive bed.

"I thought m'lady didn't want to return to the ball," the Prince asks, confused.

I nod, "Which is exactly what is so strange. I've always adored balls and banquets. I've always wanted to attend them. However, today, I just don't."

"Perhaps it's the company," he suggests, making his way to stand in front of me.

"Perhaps," I answer thoughtfully.

"Well, then in that case, we shall hold our own ball," Amantius says cheerfully. I look at him, confused. He places his glass of cognac on a nearby table and bows elegantly in front of me, offering me a hand. "Would you like to dance, m'lady?"

I smile at his childish behavior. However, I take his hand delicately. "It will be my pleasure," I say, standing up and setting my own glass on his bed. He pulls me towards him and we twirl around the room, him in his ruined silk shirt and scuffed pantaloons and me in my gown of a woolen blanket.

"We don't have any music," I whisper in his ear.

"No need to fret. It's easily fixed," he answers. The Prince then starts humming a waltz with his deep, amiable voice. I laugh and join in. My own high-pitched and slightly off-tune voice entwines with his deep one as we dance around the room.

"This is the best ball I've ever had the delight in attending," I say to him, breaking off my horrible humming for a second.

"It is mine too," he replies, looking deep into my eyes. I smile at him and nod. We pause for a second, just enjoying the comforting presence of the other. Then, the Prince smiles at me and twirls me again, and the dance begins once more.

Chapter 5

[DarkPower]

Is this a book or a short story? lol. I have been reading and i dont feel like I am going fast enough lol but then thats how it is with a lot of stories. I do truly like your writing. It reminds me of things that I used to read when I was younger. its not too heavy easily understood. I like that. I am off to chapter 5 now. KEEP WRITING!