Henry and Daphne
Henry was never really a nice man, though he tried to be. He was very ambitious, and with his ambition, he had the potential to be very dangerous. His mind was set on achieving things, for he was sure that if you achieved anything good, it would make you a better person. So he worked, and he earned, and he achieved.
But he was not nice.
What he wanted the most was Daphne. Daphne was a lovely girl, with thick blond hair and lovely blue eyes, the blue that when you look into, it was penetrating and deep. Her skin was fresh and white, for she was a daughter of the White Swans.
Henry had watched her grow up, as a small, happy girl, to a fine young woman. He was indifferent to her, unable to be swayed by the charming smile, nor by the fine looks of Daphne. He didn’t care about that, it matter little to him.
But the White Swan blood…
That was what he cared about. He never cared much for the girl, but the fact that she had the blood, -- the blood that caused magic, that caused everything that was good, -- that was what he cared about. And so, when he announced his plan of marriage, there was little celebrating, and the locals raised their eyes in doubt.
But Daphne was not going to let herself be run over by a horrid man. At his courtships, she fought, resisting Henry’s touch, and she refused to marry him. But her family was very poor, and through Henry’s ambition, he had become very rich. Her father pled with Daphne, trying to tell her how much this marriage could mean to their family. Yet Daphne held out.
“He doesn’t love me,” she said. “May Diamea grant me a lover worthy of me!”
But as time went on, Diamea did not seem to grant the maiden her wish, and her family panicked. They tried to reason with her, but even though their meals and clothes became thinner, Daphne refused to budge.
And this propelled Daphne’s father to do something, which he knew was terrible, but what he saw was necessary.
Late at night, when Daphne was fast asleep, her father visited Henry. As Henry opened the door, a robe firmly around him, he frowned as he saw Daphne’s father. “What do you want?” he asked.
“We must talk, I beg you,” her father said, rubbing his hands for warmth. Henry frowned, but opened the door for him before shutting it gently.
For a minute her father just stood there, letting his hands thaw, and gathering his wits. He glanced at Henry, and then his eyes dropped to the floor.
“It’s about my daughter, Daphne,” he muttered. Henry waited for him to continue, but his eyes were firmly to the floor and though he moved his lips, not a sound came out.
“I suppose I must start,” Henry said finally. “I must beg for you to please accept my withdrawal of marriage for Daphne. Diamea shall not grant us together, therefore, I will stop with this nonsense before I make a complete fool out of myself.”
Her father’s face snapped up, and a look of terror seized his eyes. “No! No!” he said, getting up. “She does not know what she is doing! She is but a child, you must turn her into a woman.”
“But she will not accept me. I must withdraw at once.”
Daphne’s father twisted his hands together nervously, his scared eyes gazing into Henry’s apathetic ones. “My daughter is stubborn,” he said finally. “She does not know what is good for her. You are a good match, yet she refuses.”
“Then let her refuse," Henry said, his voice in a monotone. "Diamea will not grant us together, so why must I bother?”
Silence. Then, “I can get her to marry you.”
Henry stared at the old man who was Daphne’s father, amusement curling his lip. “And how do you propose to do this?” he asked. Daphne’s father stared at him, his mouth open, and twisted in despair.
“She knows nothing,” he said bitterly. “I tell you. We are a family that is falling apart. Diamea has not blessed us, indeed he has hardly looked upon us in favor. For we have Swan blood, and Swan blood must be kept sacred, only to the Swan. Do you understand? We cannot wait for Diamea’s blessing! We cannot wait for her. She doesn’t know it yet, she does not understand, but you are her only chance of happiness.”
“That is indeed a funny thought,” Henry said quietly. “May I be enlightened as to why you say this?”
“I speak the truth!” Daphne’s father said, quickly, as he saw the bitter expression upon Henry’s face. “She does not know this, nobody alive but you and I know, but her prophecy – she must marry you!”
“And may I ask what is this prophecy?”
Daphne’s father gulped, and an odd look flickered his eyes. “I’ve never told anyone this before, not even Daphne.”
“What is it?” Henry leaned over earnestly, an interested look on his face. “Tell me.”
Daphne’s father paused before saying out loud, “‘Never before, never until, she learns hate, will she ever, by the Grace of Diamea know love. And only when she sees the meaning of death, will she learn what is life.’”
Henry paused, frowning. “That was her prophecy?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “Are you saying that I must make her hate me?”
“Yes.”
Henry stood up and began to pace. “Very well then, I shall marry her. And, if Diamea shall be displeased, he may bother someone else, for I will not listen to him. I don’t care anymore.” He turned to Daphne’s father and bowed. “Thank you for choosing me. I look forward to the wedding.”
When the wedding took place, Daphne was decked in a lovely dress of white. Her cheeks glowed, her movement was fine, and finally Henry realized the beauty of this woman. He offered his hand to her willingly, wanting to help her to the temple. But there was no love between them. She slapped his hand away, and made it up herself, her fingers clutching her dress to hitch it.
He followed her, letting his feet stand on her lovely skirt. She fell at once, her face crashing into the marble stairs, and her face, so lovely and pale, was bleeding. With an apologetic display, Henry gave her his handkerchief, and offered to bring her up. She limply leaned on him, dabbing herself with the handkerchief, and let him take her up the stairs.
“Do you think Diamea will save you now?” he whispered to her.
She did not look up at his face.
As she was walked in, the two kneeled before a diamond, the symbol of Diamea. Her head bowed down, lovely strands of golden hair, dropping down to hide her bloody face. Tears were in her eyes, shining even more than the diamond they kneeled before. “Diamea,” she whispered to herself. “Diamea, I have done nothing wrong. By Your Grace, Diamea, I beseech thee. I beseech thee. Save me!”
The mass continued with lovely Daphne praying, her head bowed down, tears sliding from her face, and blood seeping into her dress. Henry noticed this, and pitied the poor wretch. But Diamea would not save her. That much he knew.
“Stand up,” the priest said to them privately, after blessing them in the Swan Language. They stood up together, slowly. The priest began to chant prayers. Henry noticed the tears joining together the blood, and by doing so, become pure. She stared at Henry in fear and in question.
Henry looked away from her quickly.
“Now, Diamea,” the priest said, “we ask of thee to grant for this couple the blessing of a marriage. We ask of thee to grant them many children, and few heartbreaks, and love, love so deep to only come from you. And, as proof, let your children speak out to you in love!”
“No!” Daphne shouted, but in a louder voice came Henry’s yes. At the moment, they locked eyes, Daphne’s showing fear, sadness, and (though this confused Henry) a trace of stubbornness, fired deep within her. But Henry was stronger, Henry could outpower her, Henry could beat her down. And she knew that.
The priest was old, and he had lost his much of his hearing. But he did hear Henry’s yes. So he raised up his hands, and cried out, “Now let these two lovers be joined together by the grace of Diamea!”
Henry smirked at Daphne, as he touched her hand and kissed her. She didn’t move.
Now she was his.
Yeah... as you can see, I'm not posting the next chapter because it's good, but because it's bad and I need an outsider's opinion. >< With that said, be nice and hard.
. 
. Just read it through again, slowly, and then AGAIN after you've corrected some things. It's frustrating and tedious sometimes, too, but it totally works.
