Ever After

20251122

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

T’was a tale as old as time; princess was kidnapped by a wicked no’er-do-well, prince swooped in to rescue her, they fell in love and got married and lived happily ever after. That was how it worked.
Prince Darrel smoothed his hair, unable to meet his reflection’s eyes. The sounds of revelry winding up outside felt like the baying of hounds to his tense nerves.
He was running out of time. It would all come to a head tonight. One way or another.
Granted, nobody had told him to take advantage of the ball. Perhaps he was imagining the pointed nudges he’d picked up. The impression that everyone wanted him to finally do it.
It should be easy, after all.
Darrell turned away, fiddling with his cufflinks and frowning at the floor.
He’d thought he could do this. That was why he’d accepted the quest at all; hoping the storybook recipe would sweep him along and put his life on the right path. Rescue the girl, fall in love. That was how it worked. Right?
How had he have messed this up? He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.
Both families were so pleased. His especially. Constantly supportive of the relationship. Naturally they’d made a point of telling him they would be travelling to attend the ball. Clearly expecting, like everyone else, that he was planning to propose to Celeste tonight.
It would be perfect, after all. So romantic.
She was probably getting dressed in a flutter, planning how to respond. Rehearsing a hundred options. None of which would involve…
Maybe… he should do this. Maybe he’d come too far not to.
And yet, it felt like a lie too far.
Perhaps because it would be the first true lie. Everything else he’d done, every romantic gesture he’d offered and courting ritual he’d complied with, had been part of trying to fall in love with her. He’d thought that surely if he just followed the steps closely enough, long enough, he’d start to hear the music.
Why hadn’t it worked? What was wrong with him?
Another flurry of laughter floated in the open windows along with the summer breeze, rich with the scent of blossoms and roasting meat. One voice amongst the crowd made Darrell’s heart flutter.
Because it wasn’t enough that he’d failed to fall in love with Celeste. Oh no. He’d also gone and fallen for her brother.
The feeling wasn’t mutual, and never would be. Darrell knew that from the start. Oswald was eager to find a courting quest of his own, often gushing about what kind of princess he hoped for, and had a roving eye for maidens. Falling in love with him was utter folly.
Such was the way of hearts.
Darrell collapsed onto the sofa and stared down at his clasped hands, whose nails were gnawed to stubs.
Finish following the story, and make everyone else happy? Or confess the truth, and break everyone’s hearts?
He felt that the first must surely be the right thing. Yet he couldn’t imagine doing it.
Why did he have to be such a failure? He couldn’t even get this right. Useless, pathetic-
A knock at the door.
Assuming it was his manservant, back to check what was taking him so long to join the party, Darrell quickly mussed his hair and grabbed the comb before answering the door. John would see that, sigh, and briskly get it sorted before chivvying him downstairs. No awkward questions.
It was Celeste. Resplendent in her formal summer gown and wearing a grave expression that made his stomach flop about in his chest.
“Good eve.” She forced a smile.
“Ah…” Darrell clutched the comb to his chest, feeling acutely awkward, and managed to stammer out “Good eve, aye.”
“Sorry, I meant to talk to you earlier, but Mother grabbed me, and then…” Celeste sighed and shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. We need to talk.”
“A-about?” Darrell prompted. His mouth dry and fingers clammy.
Celeste looked him square in the eye, her expression… weary. Pained. Stalwart. “About how you actually feel. And what we’re going to do about it.”
“Ah.” Darrell’s breath escaped in a soft huff.
He stepped back and let her enter the room, then pushed the door firmly shut.
Outside the sounds of revelry were ramping up. Singing was starting. People were doubtless wondering where the young couple was. If they knew the answer was “in the prince’s dressing room”, oh how meaningful laughter would flow.
But as Celeste primly settled on the couch, and Darrell perched on the dressing table stool, the mood was somewhere between a war council and a funeral.
“So.” Celeste folded her hands tightly in her lap. “We have to give them an answer tonight. What is our answer going to be?”

Prompt was “Write a story in which the main character is slowly falling in love with the wrong person.”