A/N: Be kind. It's my first non-fanfiction story. Or be harsh. I don't care. I can take any sort of comment you throw my way. I wrote this for school, and my teacher is rather... lenient, let's just say. She doesn't expect much from us. So I only spent two weeks on it. I know it isn't good, and if you agree, tell me. I won't be angry.

As a side note, I changed the summary. The first was icky.

I Don't

Written by: Entrancia

I watch the girl before me intently. She watches me. She’s dressed elegantly, clad in a sophisticated, extravagant, white gown. It’s so long the bottom of the dress pools around her feet, a white puddle surrounding her three-inch glass heels. Something adorns her head, and it’s not your average, everyday hat. It’s a tiara, set with blue crystals and probably crafted by the hands of the most experienced silversmith in the village. Under that, there’s something else. It has a veil of sorts attached to it, thin and sheer, tossed behind her head. The light layer of shimmering makeup that dusts her face does nothing to hide how frail she looks. She wears an expression of anxiety and dread. I move my gaze up, and the most intriguing eyes stare back at me. They remind me of the ocean, deep and blue and clear. They seem neutral, but if I look closely, I see something different. Within the depths of those sapphire orbs, an intense sadness resides. Sympathy and, for some reason, understanding tug at my heart as I look at her.

I purse my lips at her, and to my surprise, she does the same with her reddened lips. I raise my hand. She raises her gloved hand. I wiggle my fingers. She wiggles her fingers. She is imitating me, copying everything I do. Why is she mimicking me? I want to yell at her, tell her to stop it, but a gentle rap on the other side of the door startles me.

“Who is it?” I call shakily, my heart pounding. I turn around, away from the girl, and face the door.

“It is Lorelei, mistress,” comes the muffled reply. “May I come in?”

Relieved, I release the breath I don't remember holding. “You may.”

The door opens, and my friend’s head peeks in. “Good morning, Princess,” she says with a curtsey, her eyes traveling around the room before landing on me. She hitches up her black and blue gown and steps over the threshold.

“Good morning,” I respond, eying her fancy dress. How did she afford that? Servants aren’t paid. Nor are they permitted to wear anything other than the clothes they were given at the start of their servitude. “There’s no need to call me 'Princess',” I add. “You’re my best friend.”

“My apologies.”

I turn my attention back to the girl. I blink at what I see. Lorelei is standing before me. Wasn’t she behind me? I turn around, and there she is also, watching me curiously with her wise brown eyes.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks. My staring must be getting to her.

My eyes flicker from the Lorelei with her hand on the doorknob and the Lorelei standing near the mysterious girl. “Why are there two of you?” I inquire.

Lorelei tilts her head questionably. “Pardon me, Princess. I don’t understand.”

I point at her and then I point at the Lorelei next to the girl, deciding to ignore my friend's habitual formality. The girl is still doing everything I do. “There are two of you,” I repeat. “Why?”

Lorelei steps further into my room, shutting the door behind her. “My Lady,” she says slowly, “are you feeling quite all right? We’re the only two in here.”

“What?” I start, turning back to the girl copying me. “No, you’re wrong. There’s—” I stop abruptly. My eyes open wide as realization dawns on me. Lorelei speaks the truth. We are the only two in the room. I become conscious of the fact that am staring into a mirror. I look down, and I see that I am wearing a white dress, identical to the one the girl is wearing. I reach up—noting that I have on lacy gloves that reach my elbows—and my fingers touch a smooth, cool surface. The silver tiara. I am the girl.

My eyes widen more as I remember the reason as to why I am dressed even more exquisitely than usual. I begin to contemplate running to my bed and hiding under the silk sheets for the next two months, but Lorelei’s tiny hand on my wrist brings me back to reality.

“Prin—,” she starts, but at my look she quickly corrects herself. “Adelina,” she tries again. I give her yet another look. “Adele,” she says, with a little sigh that has a hint of exasperation in it, “the queen requests your presence in her room. She has sent me to get you.”

Resorting to playing dumb, I ask innocently, “Whatever for?”

“Adele, you know full well what your mother wants.” She knows I’m stalling. But I persist.

“Really, though. I haven’t a clue.” I make my eyes larger to seem more innocent, but the only thing that accomplishes is making them water and sting. Lorelei obviously isn’t fooled.

“Adele, please. Your mother—”

I give in. “All right, all right. I’ll go.”

I let Lorelei lead me down to Mother’s bedroom. It’s nearly time for my inevitable future.

It is nearly time for my wedding ceremony.

A six-year old girl sits by herself besides a shallow brook with her mother supervising her from inside her castle. The girl cups her small hands together and sticks them in the water. She carefully removes her hands and pours the water over a pile of sand. She does it again and again, stopping only when her hands start to turn blue. Concentrating on the sand, she packs it together until it forms a tall, hard tower. She giggles happily as she picked up a nearby twig with a leaf still attached to one end. She stabs it into the top of the sand tower and stands up to admire her handiwork. As she bends down to rinse off her palms, a boy bumps into her roughly from behind, yelling over his shoulder, “You can’t catch me!” The girl glimpses a flash of strawberry blond hair before she falls forward into the brook with a surprised squeak. The boy doesn’t even notice her. He keeps running, occasionally screeching war-like cries.

A second boy charges out of nowhere—this one dark-haired—his fingers wrapped around a pointy branch. “Oh, Callum… Come out, come out, wherever you are…” he singsongs. He is still for a moment, his ears attentive. Then, without warning, he sprints in the direction the boy he called Callum went in, his pointy stick held out like a sword. In his path is the girl’s sand tower. He steps on it, and it becomes a part of the ground again. He, too, does not see her.

Tears pool into the little girl’s eyes. She picks herself up out of the brook. Her thin dress clings to her body. She shivers. Water drips from her dress.

“Mama?” she calls tearfully. “Mama?”

Her mother hurries out of the castle at her daughter’s voice, looking harassed. Her face softens when she sees the girl. “Oh, Adele, what happened to you? Why are you wet?” she asks gently.

Adele latches herself to the older woman’s leg. She says something incoherently into her mother’s skirt.

“What was that, sweetie?”

She pulls away from her mother. There are tear stains on the skirt. “The princes,” she repeats shakily, about to cry again.

Her mother begins to stroke Adele’s hair slowly, soothingly. “Are you talking about Callum and Caine?”

“Yes.”

“What did they do?”

“They’re such bullies!” cries Adele suddenly, all traces of her tears gone in an instant. There is only fire in her eyes.

“That doesn’t sound like them,” says her mother, frowning. She doesn’t like the thought of two ten-year old boys bothering her daughter.

Adele pouts. “They did, Mama!” she says stubbornly. “Callum pushed me into the water, and Caine stepped on my sand tower.”

“On purpose?”

“We-ell… they didn’t apologize.”

Her mother feels a flash of fury as her maternal instincts are triggered. “Honey, sit here,” she orders kindly.

Adele obeys, seating herself on a marble bench eagerly. She wonders what her mother would do next. She hoped it involved pain. Even a little. Or some sort of punishment, at least.

The older woman straightens her back, making herself seem more intimidating. She takes a breath and calls out, “Boys! Caine, Callum, come over here!”

Seconds later, the two young princes stumble out from behind the castle, laughing exuberantly. Callum, the blond one, has a long cut on his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to care. Caine is still clutching that branch, but it’s broken in half, one end only connected by a strip of bark. She knows Caine better than she knows Callum. She’s betrothed to Caine, she was told, whatever that means. The word sounds a little like "betrolled," so maybe something about trolls…? Perhaps she would get to feed him to one.

The boys’ laughter diminishes into calmer chuckles once they catch sight of Adele’s mother. They quit smiling altogether once they see the woman's serious expression.

Caine is the brave one. He steps forward and bows deeply. If he was wearing a hat, he probably would have tipped it. “Good morning, Queen Talia,” he says politely, as any proper prince should. The queen nods at him, and then there’s an expectant silence, followed by an “Ow!” as Caine elbows his friend in the side.

“Morning, your Highness,” says Callum stiffly, rubbing the area Caine struck.

“Good morning, boys,” responds the queen coolly. “Won’t you greet my daughter also?”

Caine blinks. “Is the Princess here?” he asks, looking around.

Adele, who is hidden behind the queen’s skirt, hops up from the bench. “I’m right here!” she declares loudly. She walks to her mother’s side.

Caine perks up at the sight of the young girl. Callum just looks bored. “Good morning, Adelina,” greets Caine, flashing her his usual boyish grin. She glares at him, her hands balling into fists.

“Adele,” warns her mother, noting her daughter’s hostility.

“Good morning,” mumbles Adele. She notices that Callum doesn’t say hello. Callum never really acknowledged her existence whenever he came over. Callous Callum, she decides to call him.

“Boys,” begins Queen Talia, “I have been informed by Adelina that you have not been very kind to her. Is this true?” She narrows her eyes at them, clearly meaning, “Don’t lie.”

Now Callum looks interested. “Of course not!” he says defiantly. “We hadn’t seen Adelina up until now.”

“You’re quite sure about that?”

“Positive,” he answers confidently. “Adelina was just fibbing.”

He has crossed the line. For the princess and her mother. Adele jumps forward. “I most certainly am NOT!” she fumes.

Her mother holds her back. “Adele, you are a princess. Keep your temper,” she scolds. “Go play by the brook. I’ll be done with these boys in a moment, and then I’ll get you changed into a new dress.”

“But, Mama—,” she protests.

“Go.” Her mother is firm.

Adele sighs and walks slowly back to the area she was playing at, shooting quick glances over her shoulder. Not much is happening. Queen Talia seems to be only reprimanding them. Adele reaches the brook and plops down dejectedly. She really wanted to see how those boys are going to be punished. With another sigh, she starts to rebuild her sand tower.

As she completes one fourth of the tower, a shadow falls over her. She raises her head, and her eyes meet the steady gaze of Prince Caine. “Hello,” she says curtly before turning back to the sand. She sits up straighter, trying to make herself seem more dignified in a ruined dress.

He bends down to her level. “Hello,” he says pleasantly.

She doesn’t know what he’s up to, so she decides to ignore him. But minutes pass, and he doesn’t move a muscle. He just watches her with his big grey eyes. It’s unnerving.

“What do you want?” she asks irritably, tossing a stray stick over her shoulder. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I’d like to offer my assistance,” he answers simply. “Will you accept?”

Adele surveys him for a long time, trying to catch a glimpse of any insincerity, any at all. He doesn’t seem to be joking. He’s not like Callum.

A full minute later, she gives him her answer. “I accept.”

“Adele.” Mother’s voice cuts through my memory like a knife through butter. I close my eyes for a brief moment, wanting to lose myself in my reverie, but Mother calls my name again. This time, there’s a slight edge to her voice. I’d best not upset her. Not today.

“Yes, Mother?” I ask. I stare up at her from my place on her bed.

“Are you ready for the banquet?”

No. Mother, please, stop the wedding. “I suppose so.” I get up, smoothing out my gown. I go to Mother, who has a servant leaning over her, fixing her hair. I realize that Lorelei is gone. “Mother, where’s Lori?” I question. After she delivered me to Mother’s bedroom, she disappeared. But I wasn’t exactly paying attention to everything or anything as soon as the sudden memory hit.

Mother looks up, confused. “Who?” Even though she’s a kind queen—even kinder now that Father has died—Mother doesn’t really keep track of her servants. Nor does she know their names. That’s my job. I was the one who persuaded her to let some of them partake in my wedding, not as servants, but as guests. I paid for their clothing, making sure to select the priciest and most beautiful dress for Lorelei.

“Lori. You know who Lori is.”

Mother stares at me blankly.

“You know her,” I try to explain. “Lorelei. A tiny little thing.” I hold my hand in front of my neck to indicate how short she is. “Short brown hair. Brown eyes. You arranged for her to be my personal servant, remember?”

“Hmm… vaguely. Are you talking about the one in the black and white dress?”

“Blue,” I correct her. “Black and blue. And yes, I am. Where did she go?”

Mother closes her eyes suddenly, like she’s hit with another of her headaches. She has been having many of those lately. “Adele, I don’t know. She left after she brought you in here. Most likely she’s with the other servants. You can go look for her if you’d like. Just try to not run into your…husband-to-be.”

She has to remind me. The way she worded that sentence… It sounded like the wedding has to happen. That under any circumstances, it will occur. And I know it’s true. I can’t get out of it.

Unless Caine comes back. But that’s impossible.

“No…”

“Adele—”

“No.”

“Adelina—“

“You’re wrong.”

“I know it’s hard, but you have to face it. You have to face the truth.”

“No! I don’t believe you!”

“Adele. Listen to me. I’m sorry, but I had to tell you. He’s gone. Lost at sea. Killed.”

Silence.

“Adele?”

“Are you okay?”

“Caine…”

Mother is waving her hand in front of my face. She looks concerned. I reach out and gently grab her wrist, startling her. “Mother, what are you doing?” I inquire.

She steps back, her dark curls bouncing. I see that the servant—Felicity, I think her name was— has finished styling her hair. “I’m sorry, honey,” she apologizes. “It’s just… you had the strangest expression on your face. I was calling you, and you weren’t responding.”

I shake my head wildly to clear it of the scene in my mind. “You know me. I was just thinking.”

“Okay…” Mother doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m fine.” I fake-smile at her. “Really, I am.” I’m surprised to see that I’m sitting on her bed again. I stand up and pretend to stretch. “Well, now. Are we ready to head down for the banquet? I think I shall help the servants.”

This time, Mother shakes her head. “It’s your wedding day. The servants have the whole thing under control. But it’s about time for us to show up. Come, let us go.”

She’s still looking slightly concerned, so I fix a smile on my face. I’m certain I look deranged, but at least Mother won’t question me. I hook my arm through hers. Together, we leave her room.

An adolescent Adele timidly peeks around the corner. Why on earth did Caine invite her down here? In the dungeon of all places? She shudders to think of what—or who—is lurking in the shadows.

WHERE IS CAINE?

The note that new servant Lorelei passed to her told her to meet the young prince in the dungeon. She had been searching for him for fifteen minutes, and the only things she found—besides bones and dust—were a fresh rose with the thorns removed, an emerald-studded A pendant on a delicate chain, and a silver ring. She would later ask around to see who had lost the jewelry and rose, with the hopes that the owner was among the living, but first she needs to find Caine. She turns a corner.

And collides into a wall.

She braces herself for the pounding headache that will soon follow. But it does not come. Walls aren’t soft. Or warm. There is only one explanation. Her heart thudding, not knowing what sort of gruesome beast is waiting for her, Adele’s eyes travel north. Higher and higher up until she sees Caine’s friendly face six inches above hers.

He breaks into a grin. “It’s about time you found me,” he says teasingly.

Adele pushes her hands against his chest, but that only makes her stumble backwards. Caine’s hand shoots out and grasps her wrist. He pulls her back to him. Her face smacks into his chest.

“What, aren’t you glad to see me?” he asks, sounding almost offended.

Adele rips away from him again. She places her hands on her hips. “Glad to see you?” she nearly screeches. “I was looking for you for FIFTEEN minutes in this DAMP, DARK, and DEAD dungeon. I only saw DEAD things. AND I found the belongings of some poor prisoner on the ground.” She holds out the rose, necklace, and ring. Caine looks at it, his face impassive. “And you expect me to be GLAD to see you?” she finishes, glaring at him.

“Well—,” he starts.

“Well what?”

“Yes. You should be glad to see me,” he decides.

She is indignant. “Why in the world should I be?”

“Because I know the way out of here.”

Her eyes grow big. “You wouldn’t leave me here.”

“Try me.”

“Caine—”

“Goodbye, Adele.” He begins to walk away.

“Caine—wait,” she starts.

He keeps walking without looking back.

She crosses her arms. “Fine. See if I care.”

But Caine shows no sign of stopping for her. After much debating inside her head, she runs to her best friend’s side. She avoids his eyes.

He side-glances at her. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Her face burns, knowing he had won the battle. She is glad the torches lighting the dungeon are beginning to burn out. “Shut up, Caine.” But she continues to follow him, wherever he’s going.

Countless corridors and jail cells later, she is unable to stand it any longer. “Where are we going?” she blurts.

“You’ll see,” he answers enigmatically.

A while later, they enter an area much different than the rest of the dungeon. It’s clean, and it has a small table set up. Adele moves closer. She sees that it has food on it. Dinner, set for two. She turns to Caine, confused.

“What’s all this?” she wants to know.

Caine only grins.

“What?” she asks, instantly suspicious. When he grins like that, it usually means he’s causing mischief. Caine and mischief are like unlabeled potions. If one is to mix them together, bad things would most likely follow.

“Happy birthday.”

Well, she did say usually.

“Wha—?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday. You're thirteen now, not a child anymore.”

“My… birthday…?” she repeats slowly. “It’s… my birthday.” Then her brain understands what she's saying. “Oh my goodness. Caine, it’s my birthday!” She has to restrain herself from hopping up and down. How could she have forgotten? Her princess duties had been the only things on her mind lately.

“And this,” she continues, sweeping her arm around the area. “This is all for me?”

He nods.

Without warning, she drops the items she'd found and throws her arms around his neck. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!”

Caine seems surprised, but he hugs her back. “You’re welcome. But in order for you to have all this, you need to do something for me.”

“What’s that?” she asks, still clinging tightly to him.

“Stop cutting off my air supply.”

“Mmm,” she mumbles.

“…Adelina.”

“Hmm?”

“Now.”

“Oh—OH!” She lets go of him, her face coloring. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re just excited.” He bends down and picks up the dropped items. He holds them out to her. “Yours, I believe?”

She shakes her head and skips toward the table. “Can you keep hold of them for me? I’ll return them to whoever lost them later.”

“They’re yours.”

“No, they’re not.”

“No. I meant they’re yours."

Adele turns around slowly, facing him. “You mean… from you?”

“Yeah. For your birthday.” Then he steps back when she looks like she’s about to hug him again.

She laughs and wipes at her eyes. “Caine… thank you so much. But—I don’t understand. Why do I have three gifts?”

“I’m guessing it’s time for the sappy explanations, huh?” he jokes. She laughs again and pushes him playfully.

“Go on. Explain.”

He hands her the rose. “I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. It’s a rose. I thought it was pretty traditional. You know—a symbol of our friendship.”

She takes it, frowning slightly. “But I thought a rose is a symbol of love.”

“Well, there has to be love in a friendship, right? And we’re best friends, meaning there’s a lot there. You do love me, don’t you?” he adds.

“Of course I do."

"And you know I love you."

She doesn't know why, but this makes her blush. "What about the pendant?” she asks.

He unclasps the chain. With one hand he reaches over and lifts up her black hair. “Hold this for me?” She does so, and he fastens the necklace around her neck. When he pulls back, he is smiling.

“A for Adele.”

She feels tears coming back up. She tries to blink them away. “Thank you. And the ring?”

A light blush tints his cheeks. She had never seen him blush before. It’s cute, very unlike him. “This is where the sappy part comes in,” he says. He takes her hand and slips the ring on.

“This ring,” he says, “is a promise ring.” He gets down on one knee. “I promise, now and forever, that I’ll always be your friend. I’ll always be there when you need me, whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or just for a laugh. I’ll never leave you, no matter what happens.”

Adele is left speechless. He went through all this trouble for her?

“You really promise that?” she asks quietly, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I do. And I don’t lie.”

“Yes, you do!”

“Adele, you’re spoiling the moment.”

She giggles. “Sorry.” She drops to her knees. She hugs him again. “Thank you.” This time, she doesn’t let go.

You’re wrong, Caine, I think as I robotically greet guests from faraway kingdoms. The scene in my head fades away. You broke your promise. You left me.

I freeze as King Mattheus and Queen Irene walk through the doors. Caine’s parents. They see me and smile sadly. I want to cry.

No, keep smiling. Smile and wave. I tell myself that over and over again, like a mantra.

In the other side of the room, Callum laughs loudly, surrounded by his friends. Callum with the angelic looks that never match his personality. He left my side as soon as the banquet ended. I remember my childhood nickname for him. Callous Callum. It suits him much more now than it did then. He’s only marrying me because it’s in Father’s will. He doesn’t care for me at all.

Adele has to fight hard to keep the tears from spilling when the squire reads aloud one particular part of the will. It is about her.

“’Princess Adelina Talia McNaughton is to wed Prince Callum of the Finley Kingdom after her sixteenth birthday, thus joining together the two kingdoms. Under no circumstances will this wedding not occur. There is one exception:

“‘The wedding will cancel if Prince Caine Kenneth, Adelina’s previous betrothed, is found and revived from the dead.’”

Callum makes his way over to me. His friends follow. He slings one arm sluggishly around my neck. “Hey,” he slurs. I smell wine in his breath. “Here’s my prett-iii-ful wife. How’s the wedding?”

His friends laugh as I shove him off me. “Callum, you’re drunk,” I say coldly. “Get away from me.”

Without warning, he and his friends burst into laughter again. They’re too busy laughing to notice that I’m walking away. He’s the one I have to spend the rest of my life with? I wish I went on that trip with Caine that day. But I don’t recollect he ever mentioned it to me. He just disappeared one day. And he didn’t come back. Father told me he went out sailing, and his boat was caught in a storm. Although Father seemed pretty sincere, I can’t help but feel a tiny sliver of hope. I’ll continue hoping, even after I am permanently bound to Callum. I will keep wishing.

A hand on my shoulder startles me out of my thoughts. “Princess Adele,” comes a soft voice behind me. I turn around. It’s Lorelei.

I sigh. “Lori, you can drop the ‘Princess’. I won’t hang you for it,” I say gently, not wanting to scare her. Lorelei is such a delicate little thing. I can’t believe she’s sixteen, my age.

“Forgive me,” she says, looking down. “But I was told by Queen Talia that you must join Callum.”

I sigh inwardly. Lori is always so difficult to comprehend. I have known her for over three years, and she constantly has to be reminded to call me by name. Yet, she has no problem calling Prince Callum by his. She probably hates him as much as I do. I’ve noticed she acts very peculiar around him. I think it’s fear.

I crack a small smile at her. It comes out as a grimace. “Thank you, Lori,” I say. “I’ll be over shortly.”

Lorlei curtsies and leaves.

I can’t help it. The smile fades away as soon as her back is turned. I don’t want to be with Callum forever. I can’t even stand his company for more than five minutes. How will I get out of this?

Slowly, I glide over to Callum, who is sitting on a throne. He is waiting for me. Everyone is. Guests part to make a path for me. I’m disappointed. I wanted to take my sweet time weaving my way through the nobles of other kingdoms. I can’t delay any longer. I step up and lower myself onto the throne beside Callum. He looks at me. There's no indication that he had been drinking ten minutes earlier. With a start, I see something in his expression. It’s inundated with many jumbled emotions: pain, sorrow, fury, regret, fear, and the last one—understanding. He doesn’t want to be here either, I realize. Why hadn’t that come to mind before? Callum is handsome, I have to admit. He probably has a sweetheart of his own. This is as painful for him as it is for me.

Mother sneaks a glance at me. I can see that she wants to stop this whole wedding. If she had the power, she would end it. “This wedding is cancelled.” Four words are all it would take. If only she could.

She straightens to her full height. She inhales deeply, unevenly. She breathes it out and tries again. She opens her mouth to issue the binding words. I wait, my eyes shut tight, but it doesn’t come. Something has stopped her. I look at her worriedly. Her eyes are large and disbelieving. A heart attack? No. Not at all. She is looking into the crowd. Is she? Again, no. She looks past the anticipating crowd. Then I, too, see it. I see him. Standing by the huge doors.

Is he a mirage? He can’t be. He’s staring right back at me. From way up here, I can see the grey of his eyes. They’re slightly dulled and confused, but other than that, they’re the same as they were four months ago.

I slide off the throne. My feet are moving by themselves. I start out slow, and then I move faster. Everybody’s eyes are on me as I move across the grand hall, through the crowd, and into Caine’s strong embrace. He tilts my chin up with his finger, and for first time ever, he kisses me. I respond right away, putting all of my emotions into that kiss. I have no intent of letting go.

Mother’s voice is shaky, but she manages over the waves of confused murmurings of the crowd. She states the words I’ve been dying to hear.

“This wedding is canceled.”

After that, all was chaos. Well, not chaos exactly. More like confusion. The guests who didn’t know of Father’s will were questioning why Mother canceled the wedding. The guests who did know about the will had no idea who the person I was hugging was. He looked so different. Two people, however, did know. King Mattheus and Queen Irene were at Caine’s side five seconds after I was. I didn’t mind. I let go of him and allowed the family to reunite. His parents must have missed their precious son more than I did.

That triggered the memory of the guests. They—the guests from the Kenneth kingdom, particularly—began cheering and rejoicing about the return of a beloved prince. And after that… I was happy.

Then Father’s will came into mind again. Mother canceled the wedding… because Caine came back. That meant that I was to wed him, not Callum. When this registered in my head, I rushed back to Caine, not caring how many people I pushed out of the way to get there. Again, did I let go of him? No. Not for a while.

Later, I had to wait patiently until he had rested and was fed before I could talk to him again. When we did talk, I couldn’t believe the tale he told me. And his story is this:

He hadn’t gone out on a sailing trip that day at all. He wasn’t anywhere near the sea. Father, my own father, sent him on a quick errand that required Caine to go into the dungeon of my castle. It was there he was ambushed.

Father’s soldiers jumped out from all directions. It was easy to capture him, being outnumbered. Caine told me he can't remember what happened after that, he'd apparently been struck in the head. He woke up and found himself on an island, with no way to escape and very little resources to live off of. Somehow, he managed to survive for a month on fish and stray berries before a lone fisherman passed by in his rowboat. The man did him a kind deed and got him off that island. After many gracious thanks, Caine had no choice but to ask his way back to my castle because the fisherman dropped him off in foreign territory. He wouldn’t tell me how he got in—broke in?—the castle with all the guards around, but I missed him so much, I didn’t care. I was just glad he was back.

If Father was still alive, I didn’t know how I would act towards him after the truth was exposed to me. He had kidnapped my beloved betrothed and best friend, tossed him on a deserted island to starve to death, and arranged for me to marry someone I had loathed for most of my life. I had no idea why it was so urgent for me to wed Callum. Mother didn’t know, either.

"It was to aid in the capture of an opposing country," Caine told me. Ironically, it turned out that Father died by the hands of someone from that country.

And here I am now, three months later, seated in the same throne with the people of kingdoms near and far before me. This time, Caine is next to me. We exchange glances. Boy, he cleans up well. He smirks when he sees that I’m staring at him longer than I need to. I blush—damn it, he is the only one who can make me do that—and look away into the crowd. I spot Callum amongst the blend of nobles and servants. He sees me. He smiles. Smiles. At me. As in not a sneer. I’m shocked, but I smile back, and it widens when I see whose arm is hooked through his. Lorelei waves at me with her free arm, beaming radiantly. She looks more beautiful than she ever did, and it’s not because of the make-up. I lean back into the throne, content. Well. It seems Callum isn’t completely heartless after all. And it appears there’s more to Lorelei than I had thought, falling for a bad boy like Callum. That must be the reason why she called Callum by his name, rather than title. I will have to ask her to tell me how the relationship happened, after the wedding ends, of course.

Mother clears her throat. Immediately, everyone’s attention is directed at her. She lifts up a hand regally, and the flags of our two kingdoms are raised. “I now present to you Prince Caine Nathaniel Kenneth and Princess Adelina Talia McNaughton Kenneth,” she declares loudly.

Caine and I grasp hands and stand up. The crowd roars its approval as he lifts me up and swings me around in a full circle. Encouraged, he leans down and kisses me full on the lips. We are now bound together for life. And I couldn’t be any happier.

A/N: Well... yeah. Bad isn't it? Feel free to agree. I know I rushed the ending, but I needed to end it somehow. Spending all this time on one story is not helping my grades. I'd appreciate it if you review, but it's not like I'm forcing you, right? This is my first and last story on FictionPress.

Edit: All right. So I’ve added more details and I have extended some stuff due to what reviewers and friends have suggested. In my opinion, it still isn’t all that good. I only think I’ve dulled the rushing at the ending.

I mean it this time, though. I’m not writing anything else for FP. This is it. So don’t even try to make me feel guilty. Seriously though. Don’t try. Because I can become guilty very easily.