Young Writers Society

It was within the ancient walls of beautiful Rome they saw each other for the first time. Despite their responsibilities—despite any honor and dedication they had once before found themselves bound to; they realized it was nothing. Nothing mattered without the other. They had essentially become one at the moment their eyes met. Their hearts seemed to beat in one rhythm—a rhythm that would be otherwise thwarted if with any other person. Perfect syncopation. A flawless duet.

They would be bound to one another for eternity, no matter what path they chose to take. He was betrothed to another. She was recovering from a painful loss—determined to never love again. Yet it was destiny that they should meet at the complicated times of their lives to make the ending a perfect one. The kind one only reads about in fantasy, the happily ever after that only seems possible—even probable—with the help of a fairy godmother or a magic spell. All in all, it is the decision each of their hearts decide to make; that ultimately determines if their ending is happy…*****

The anxious family sat in a beautiful villa, surrounded by red roses weaving through plaited fences—the darkened sky revealed twinkling stars.

The cheerful candlelight danced across a variety of expressions—most were happy and excited for the joyful festivities of a wedding—only one sulked behind a distinctly morose frown.

The sweet sound of a gypsy violin cried with a mandolin, giving the atmosphere a deeper taste of the beautiful La Cita En Roma—Rome, the eternal city.

The soft cool wind allowed the ocean’s waves to gently accompany the duet, along with the calm conversations of several tables around them. Belle gnawed inconspicuously on one side of her cheek in anticipation for the supposedly handsome and charming groom to join their party with Ella. She glanced around the table, unconsciously smiling at the colorful arrangement of relatives that sat in robust conversation with one another.

Her mother eyed her warily, noticing the distortion of Belle’s faces as she chewed nervously on her cheek. She desisted only for her mother’s sake; for why should Belle not be nervous? Her baby sister was getting married.

Selfish envy teetered in her heart, quietly battling her honorable attempt to be sisterly. Belle’s happy marriage never came to be like Ella’s would. This is Ella’s night, Belle reminded herself; pushing away the painful memories with a sip of champagne, not mine.

She put on her best smile as the cat-calling cheers from other tables announced the engaged couples arrival. She stood with the others, clapping awkwardly as everyone’s gaze fell upon the lovely couple.

One glance upon the groom was a sin. Who couldn’t covet a future husband with a dazzling smile such as his? Those dark, mysterious eyes and carefully unkempt hair emphasized a very seductive look.

His body was clearly athletic, his white collared shirt that had been buttoned down far enough to convince anyone of this fact. The casual, relaxed look from the obtrusive white shirt was relevant to accompany his beautiful, tanned skin.

As one hand lightly touched the back of his bride to guide her to her seat, Belle was eagerly grateful for the diversion of the lovely girl.

Her bright eyes were exuberant, twinkling with excitement as she glanced through the seated guests for the comfort of her sister’s eyes.

Belle tipped her head slightly in acknowledgement of her sister, admiring her choice of dress that night. It was one they had shopped for together; a dark-blue one shouldered piece that draped over her body dramatically and flattered her small-framed body; the vivid blue brought out her stunning eyes quite effectively.

Ella’s blonde hair softly cascaded in loose ringlets, and moved with the energy of her movements as she moved and laughed.

Belle did her best to avoid the persistent gaze of her sister’s fiancé; but failed miserably as his brooding eyes made abrupt contact with hers as she carelessly scanned the table.

Her cheeks grew warm under the intensity of his stare.

Ella’s night.

It became an Indian war-cry in Belle’s mind, a chant that made her focus on the reasons she was here. Exhibit A: her little sister was getting married in three days.

And the groom was exceedingly handsome.

Her hasty thoughts were interrupted by their grandmother—bless the old woman’s child-like heart—humanity might be slightly easier if the crazed woman was in a grave.

“Alright everyone,” her bright-red hair seemed to bob slightly as her skinny, frail arm reached across the table to tap a glass. “I have some good news for Belle,” she giggled.

Belle felt her cheeks burn red as many faces turned to glance at her.

Please no, her eyes begged longingly to her bizarre grandmother.

“Well, we all know that the dear girl hasn’t exactly had a lot of luck with men,” several knowing family members murmured in agreement—Belle caught her mother’s sympathetic face amongst them. “Ever since that dreadful William—”

“That’s quite enough,” Belle hadn’t quite remembered standing up, but she did feel the blood that drained away from her face—the chalky paleness that undoubtedly dominated it.

Her heartbeat must have drowned out the words, yet everyone seemed to hear them anyway as they responded in quiet chuckles.

A soft hand took her arm and pulled her back to the seat.

“It’s alright,” the woman had been her aunt, trying to sedate the embarrassment Belle could never escape. Belle sat stiffly, her eyes frozen upon the amused face of her still standing grandmother.

“I knew it was time to take matters into my own hands, and your mother encouraged my match-making skills,” she paused to chuckle, and Belle looked at her mother, horrified at the words. “There is a certain bachelor invited at my plea, and he has agreed to court you.”

She beamed at Belle, as if expecting her shocked face as simply pure awe in the grandmother’s thoughtful gesture. People clapped, some nodding with admiration towards the crazy woman.

Not. Happening.

Emotions got the better of her, and she hastily excused herself—simply out of politeness, knowing very well of the non-existent attention she received—and yanked her chair back, stumbling towards the ladies’ room.

What Bella did not notice, was one pair of eyes that quite abruptly witnessed her absence.

******

Earlier that evening…

After one last glance of the shimmering ocean glittering under the moonlight’s beams—he sighed, responding to a voice he would not know for much longer.

“Henry,” Ella giggled, stepping towards him seductively. “We’re late. Everyone will be waiting.”

She looked beautiful, he’d give her that. The dress she was wearing made the blue in her eyes jump out dangerously. He gave her a sheepish smile, kissing her forehead.

“Be ready in a minute,” he said softly, grateful as she returned a smile. He was getting much better at being falsely-genuine. Or perhaps it was just that Ella Boré was the easiest to lie to because he knew her the best.

The brainless beauty, he mused, picking out a white-collared shirt and dark slacks.

He was doing it all for little Danielle. As soon as he gave them Ella and she was safely in hostage with that sick-minded obsessive stalker, he would be free to have his little girl back.

He knew publicity would jump on him like a one-eyed dog in a meat market. What could he expect? After all, being a Prince wasn’t all it was cut out to be. He could see the headlines now—WIDOWED PRINCE IS WIDOWED AGAIN—of naturally along with—LONG LOST DAUGHTER FOUND. He didn’t care about the publicity. He just wanted his little girl back.

After Celestia died two years a go—Dani was all that mattered to him. Life had no point without his baby, and he was willing to make the sacrifices it would take to get her back.

And now it was time to meet the whole fam-damnly, he sighed, bracing himself with the greatest smile he could muster as they walked, arm in arm, onto the veranda nearing the table of people he was doomed to hurt. Little did he know he was walking towards a table of people that would change his life.

It was a pair of startling green, inquisitive eyes that caught his attention first.

There was pain within them that he recognized, a disturbingly familiar hurt the lovely woman tried to hide behind a soft smile. It was within the depth of her eyes that gave it away though. He knew, right then and there, that this young woman was suffering deeply within a pain quite similar to his own.

After seating his betrothed, and settling in the seat next to Ella’s he unconsciously let his gaze fall upon the tragically beautiful woman.

Her frame was very slender, but soft, and her skin gave off a gentle kind of glow. Especially her face. High cheek-bones and a graceful chin. Her nose was straight, and tipped just slightly at the end. Her eyelashes were dark and long—he noticed as she continually looked down—then quickly at Ella. Almost nervously.

Her long, dark-chocolate hair waved naturally in soft ringlets—much like her sister’s, he observed. He watched her inconspicuously as she pressed her full lips to the champagne glass, tipping the sparkling liquid delicately into her mouth before replacing it again. He studied her lips, softly shaped; the curved smile held a secret he longed to know.

Her skin was fair, quite lovely in the shade of the soft-red dress she wore. It cascaded very delicately around her thin frame, a combination of silk and satins—like rose petals layered her body.

His observations were interrupted as a silly looking woman near her death stood; bright red hair clashing effectively with a sparkling green suit. She tapped a glass to gain attention.

“I have good news for Belle,” the woman cackled. He followed the glance of the others to the very same girl he’d been observing.

Belle, he thought, what a fitting name. She blushed the shade of her dress.

Henry watched the expressions of Belle passionately, empathizing the familiar pain she tried to hide behind the emerald eyes that now enthralled him.

“…and every since that dreadful William—”

Belle stood, the blush from her cheeks drained, a deadened look haunting such a lovely face. He watched with silent compassion as the girl pleaded for an end to the old woman’s speech.

A lady next to Belle pulled her to her seat.

“…a bachelor has agreed to court you,” the old woman clapped her gnarled hands with glee, as if she had just given away a million dollars.

He glanced at Belle again—she was blushing furiously—and he suddenly had the urge to protect; to guard this tragic woman from the pain she felt.

He watched as the sparkling green eyes that had so captivated him now glitter with tears. Belle muttered something before jerking back the chair she sat in with such force he could not conceive such a delicate woman to have—and then watched as she stumbled away, blubbering in hidden sobs.

“Darling, you haven’t said a word to me,” Ella pouted until he turned a wary gaze upon her. “So, do you like my family?”