W.I.T.C.H. 1. Prologue

**Kingdom of Sanctuary**

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Prince Caleb, heir to the throne of Irtrea is reaching marrying age. His father must point a woman out for him to marry to, but this all happens against Caleb's will. Now he believes love is out of the question for him. AU/Fantasy

**A/N: **This is an Alternate Universe, meaning they aren't WITCH anymore with magic powers and all. There will be OC's in here and slight changes in the relationships between the characters, seeing as I want this to be an epic story, I need more characters than I can use from the comics and use characters in a different way. Just wanted to let you guys know. ;)

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**Prologue  
**_and so the nightmare begins_

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The sun was setting low, near the horizontal line which divided the sea and the Earth, marking the beginning of dusk. The sky was beautifully painted with different shades of orange and red, and a few splashes of purple. The last remaining rays of sunshine illuminated the still waters of the pond, where the ducks were hastily swimming away to seek shelter for the night. Which made him the only one left behind in the garden. He should head back inside the palace to keep himself warm as well, but he didn't feel the need nor urge to move away from his spot next to the pond. He had been sitting there silently for more than three hours, pondering over a few small things. Or perhaps it was the fact that he didn't want to go inside.

He much rather spend an entire night in the cold than waltz in there and feeling very uncomfortable. Once again, there was taking an important ball place inside the palace. Never in his life did he enjoy these grant events, but since he was royalty he had to attend each and every one of them. Being Prince of the well-developed country, Irtrea, had his disadvantages, such as this one for example. But this ball in particular had more than the usual downsides of a high-class ball. Because this time there was a huge ball in honour to him, since he was turning twenty-one today and reaching marrying age his father must choose a future wife for him.

He didn't want to settle down and get married just yet. And especially not to a woman that he didn't love. Never would he admit it, but deep down there was a romantic irking and waiting impatiently to rise to the surface. Thus, he wanted to get married the old-fashioned way, meet someone somewhere unexpectedly, fall in love and know and feel that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

"You look quite handsome today," someone commented out of nowhere, interrupting his trail of thoughts abruptly.

He didn't need to look up to see who was standing behind him, he could recognize her fake sugary voice in thousands and he could regard her reflection in the pond. And knowing who was speaking to him he didn't respond or make any indication that he wanted to respond, because frankly he didn't feel the need to waste his energy on her. And he thought if he didn't give her any kind of attention she would march away, feeling rejected and not welcome… which she wasn't.

As he could have anticipated, she couldn't care less of what he would remand and she scooted down next to him graciously as the true Princess she was. They remained sitting there in silence, not even uttering a single word to each other, until she shifted in her spot uncomfortably, making it public to him that she was bored out of her mind. Normally, she would make a snappy remark on something that concerned him or anyone that he loved dearly, and every time he tumbled in her little trap by trying to defend himself or the person he cared for and she would find rejoice in his agony. However, he had grown out of that habit and concluded long ago that the best way was to ignore her—even with how difficult it was to—and just have a completely Zen aura around himself. That way, and which was the case lately, she would hunt someone else down to toy with—mostly one of her so called friends—and she would leave him be, much to his delight.

She heaved a sigh when she finally seated herself comfortably and she whipped her head around to examine him better. He felt her piercing, golden eyes burn into his flesh, but he didn't make any movement, he wanted to deny her the pleasure. There was no doubt that she was contemplating on which she would say to assault him.

"Shouldn't _you_ be inside, instead of meditating out here?" she asked suddenly, seeming to attempt to make a decent conversation with him, but he already saw through her and knew what she was implying.

Still not looking at her, he inhaled the fresh air gently. "No," he simply replied, still looking at tiny ripples circling, flowing in the water. He dipped his finger in the fluid texture, just for less than a full second and wiped his finger dry with the end of his crimson-coloured shirt.

"And why is that?" she prodded on the matter, apparently not having anything better to do than irritating him and knowing he would crack since she knew for certain what was bothering him so much.

"Because," he hissed through gritted teeth, already breaking down in front of her.

Absent-mindedly, she twirled the strand of ebony black hair around her index finger. "Because why?" she questioned in a singsong voice.

At last he watched her directly in the eye at and he noticed the glint of mischief sparkling in her amber-coloured irises. "You know perfectly why."

She stopped encircling the strand of hair and neatly tucked it behind her ear. "Yes, the ever-lasting romantic, wanting to wed with a woman he loves and live happily ever after," she snorted conspiciously, looking away from him and once again adjusted herself into a more relaxing position in the grass. She laid on her back, with one foot over the other and supporting the upper half of her body on her elbows. "That's so pathetic."

He shook his head slightly. "I don't agree."

"Well, you ought to."

He furrowed his brow at her.

She merely rolled her eyes at him. "It's only for the better that you accept the fact that father is going to choose a bride for you. It has always been like that, I won't be able to decide my own future husband either—"

"Like you care."

She decided to ignore his little comment and simply continued her story. "Grandfather Tyro didn't receive the opportunity to choose and so did father. It was grandfather who picked mother out for father. It's like that in every generation and it will always be like that."

"Then perhaps the time has come to end that idiotic tradition," he said sarcastically, because he perfectly knew that wouldn't happen in a million years. Irtrea was a beautifully, greatly structured and well-established country, but was strict when it came to traditions.

There escaped a quiet laugh from her red-painted lips. He believed it was the first time that she genuinely laughed at something he quipped. She only laughed sincerely when she was torturing him or one of her friends, but it had a maniacally tone in it. They never had a well-built brother-sister relation, there was only hate and disgust towards each other. However, they never showed it to the outer world, no one was allowed to know about it. Especially because she appeared like a sweet angel to the people, she had a good reputation amongst the people in Irtrea. Always polite to everyone, always being well-mannered and always friendly, when in fact she was neither of those things. Except for the well-mannered part, since she and him were taught the etiquette since they were still in their cradles. She deceived all those around her, particularly the men. He would never confess it, but she was very gorgeous, a real treat for the human eye and she was well-developed for a girl of her age. She had always been pretty, but her beauty only increased by the years and she came to realization that with only a wink or smile she could make every boy jump up for her and make them do whatever she wanted.

And that made him hate her even more.

"Besides." A sneer graced her features out of the blue. "Love doesn't exist anyway."

He arched an eyebrow rhetorically. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Love is an over-used concept and very well exaggerated. No one feels love."

"Well, you don't feel anything," he insulted her, but still meaning what he said. He never had experienced otherwise with her, she only felt hate and jealousy when someone did something better than her, or when someone succeeded in something whereas she was struggling with it. She was always the best in everything, she always beat him or anyone else for that matter.

Irately, she directed a scowl at him, but recovered from it rapidly. She too didn't want to grant him any satisfaction of showing that those words stung. Not really stung, but got to her, even for a mere second.

"You should head in there. Father might announce who's going to be your fiancée any minute now," she scoffed at him, retaliating at his previous words.

She saw him dropping his eye-lids and pursing his lips into an angry, thin line. A self-satisfied grin dawned her lips as she was pleased by his reaction. Revenge tasted sweet and she always hungered after more of that delicious candy.

He heaved a shagged sigh. "You're right."

His eyes met hers briefly before he stood up and dusting his clothes from the dirt. As usual, he realised she was trying to hurt him and he didn't want to play her cat-and-mouse-game no longer. Therefore, he would simply obey to her words and amble towards the ball.

"What do you mean by _that_?" she snarled, regarding his retrieving form.

He kept strolling further and further away from the pond and her, while he mentioned airily. "You're absolutely right… for once. I should go inside and check out for myself who father has chosen for me. Besides, I do need to make an appearance since it's _my_ birthday and since the party evolves around _me_," he emphasized those words on purpose. He wanted to brand them into her memory, to remind her that this was about him for a change and not her. She had always been daddy's little angel, the one who did top notch work at school and could never do wrong in his eyes—or anyone else's for that matter. On every aspect, on every area she conquered him and made him look like the failure he was.

With his chin high, he entered the large room, filled with guests, music and conversations. All eyes turned on him once they acknowledged his presence and the room roared with applaud for him. With much courtesy, he bowed slightly before he scanned the room in search for his uncle whom he actually cared to chatter with, or more likely his merry, old uncle chattering and him listening (albeit not so intently or with much interest, but he would listen all the same).

Sadly, he couldn't find him and ended his frantic search for the tea-loving man. His uncle would probably be busy with charming the woman his age and the Prince didn't want to witness that again. However, he did observe his sister joining the party and he felt her piercing gaze on him, which made him avert his amber orbs so he needn't meet her eyes making him all the more unsettling. He heard her footsteps coming closer to him and he wanted to march away, but didn't see the point in doing so. She would proceed on following him, just so she could toy with him some more and by fleeing from her, she would already win her little, twisted game.

And he didn't want to give up so soon just yet.

"Couldn't find your _precious_ uncle? His tea-loving cookieness?" she prompted in his ear when she finally reached his side. She grimaced, when she stood two centimetres behind his right shoulder and clasped her hands behind her back.

He attempted to swallow the lump down that was stuck in his throat. But it had no avail. Within every second, he was getting more and more anxious about the whole situation, but at least with his uncle by his side, he would feel a little less tense. He would never admit that of course, but he did feel better and more open when he was in the presence of his uncle. On contrary to the presence of his baby sister, who made him feel nauseas and made his stomach churning of a whirlpool of pain and shame.

Suddenly, she outgripped her own hands and unwrinkled the red fabric hanging on his shoulder. "My dear Prince, shouldn't you at least try to be more social and make other friends than just jolly uncle? Perhaps you should be less grim and dark, and be more open to other human beings. I'm starting to worry about you," she spoke as though she was his mother, while dusting of his fine-embroidered red with gold tunic. "I don't need anyone," he barked at her, trying to get her of his case and leave him be. He just wanted to get rid of her.

But his prayer was answered (for once) when silence descended upon the entire room. Everyone stopped babbling about God knows what, the music stopped playing and there was nothing else than pure quietness. Every head turned to the King, who entered with two servant boys guiding him. Each man or woman the King passed, bowed their heads down in proper humility. His father didn't tolerate anyone daring to look him in the eye, unless told to (actually, that was the deal with every King).

The King seated himself on the throne specially reserved for him only, that was situated at the very front of the room on a little stage so that he would receive a magnificent and detailed view over the room. During the process, his dragon-shaped crown slid crookedly on his head and one of his servant boys noticing this, rushed to him to adjust the crown. His father made a gesture to the other servant to fetch him something to drink.

All eyes remained glued to the King, still an eerie silence clung in the air. He grinned wryly, seeing that everyone was still so loyal and respectful towards him. He lifted up his arms spread them out to each side of him warmly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed everyone with his strong, deep voice, his eyes casually glancing among the people and rested on his son. "Today is a special day for Irtrea. 'Cause today we celebrate a remarkable occasion, namely the twenty-first birthday of my son, your prince and the heir to the throne," he announced haughtily and deliberately.

The Prince heaved a desperate and tired sigh upon hearing his father's speech. Whilst everyone was rejoicing this very moment, he was feeling a lump of nervousness sinking in the pit of his stomach.

Many cheered drunkenly, while others lifted up their cups of wine to congratulate the good news coming from the King. A young man, around the age of twenty standing next to the honoured guest, patted him on the shoulders with his free hand because the other was wrapped around a goblet of alcohol. As response, the Prince growled quietly, but still noticeable to the youth's ear, who was startled by the reaction and blinked his vacant eyes confusingly.

"Hereby I invite my son to come forward and sit next to me," his father called out to the crowd and ushering the Prince to come to him.

He cringed realising his father's words and tried to escape this nightmare. Much to his luck, his sister pleasantly pushed him forward to urge him to do as their father requested. Still with numb legs, he waddled to the front feeling that he could collapse from embarrassment anytime soon. He didn't asked for all this unnecessary attention from the guests. He didn't even ask for his twenty-first birthday.

Once his son planted himself down on the seat next to him, the King shared proudly to his guests. "I feel obliged to announce that my son reached legal marrying age and that I must choose his future wife—"

This was the moment all the nobles were impatiently waiting for. This would be the declaration of who's going to marry the Prince. Obviously, they all hoped one of their daughters would be the fortunate lady and become future Queen.

The birthday-boy averted his emerald eyes away from the stares, even though they were directed to the King anxiously. His heart pounded hard in his chest, while salty droplets originated on his forehead since he was starting to get very nervous. He was truly thankful that his father offered him a seat, because his shaking legs would barely support him if he would be standing up. This was about _his _future after all.

"But for now, I want to put political issues such as that aside and focus more on my son becoming adult." He hoisted up his golden goblet with diamonds plastered in a circle, which he received from the servant meanwhile his speech. "So let's resume the party!" he enthused before sipping from his wine.

At first every member of the room gaped at their King from shock, but shrugged the matter away so easily (partly due to the alcohol intoxicating their minds) and began talking and drinking again.

His father's unexpected choice of words aroused suspicion from the Prince. He knitted his eyebrows together in a thin line inquisitively at his father, who wrapped an arm around him amusingly and pulled him closer to his chest. After giving his son a rough kiss on the top of his black hair, he whispered loud enough to be heard over the crowd's noise.

"If I make a decision about something so fragile and important as this, I will tell you firstly. It's still _your_ future we're dealing with here. Not theirs. Now, simply relax and revel in this moment, turning eighteen is a big event, son."

Then he let go of his son, waltzed onto the dance floor and grabbed one of the women standing there, who was probably one of his many concubines. The woman yelped, most surely out of happiness, as she was being borne by the King towards the dance floor.

The Prince eyed that scenery with disgust, something he didn't want to witness. It was worse enough that he's uncle was like that, it was even worse he had seen his uncle act like that, but he especially didn't need to see this from his father. His father was this powerful man, reigned strictly and with much discipline, yet with much justice too. Which made it very odd to watch him scampering around with a woman, dancing very close to another. Moving his eyes over the rest of the guests, he finally spotted his uncle, who was singing on the top of his lungs and when their eyes met, his uncle smiled toothily at him and even wiggled his eyebrows at him, while snaking an arm around a woman standing next to him. Annoyed and embarrassed, the Prince clapped a hand in front of his already closed eyes not wanting to watch more of this all.

Out of nowhere, his sister shoved herself onto the railing of his seat. She sat there back straight, with her legs crossed and supporting her head with a fist underneath her chin. Then she bended forward so that their faces were only a couple centimetres away from another.

"I sincerely hope you aren't disappointed with papa's speech. I knew how much you got your heart set on finding out who daddy has chosen to be future Queen." She feigned a small yawn and waved her hand in front of her parted lips. "Too bad, you'll just have to wait then." She crawled away from her spot and before retreating back into the mass, she sent him a malicious smirk.

He frowned angrily at her, when realization dawned him. She had been playing with him from the very beginning, while knowing all along their father wasn't planning on telling the big news tonight. He grumbled furiously and roughly snatched a cup of wine away from the plate as one of the servants passed him with it. After gulping down a huge amount of his wine, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, because a stripe of the red-coloured substance oozed down from the corner of his mouth.

Exasperatedly, he heaved a loud sigh.

_And so the nightmare begins_, he thought to himself.

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tbc

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**A/N:** There, I hoped you all liked this so far. Just tell me what your thoughts are, I'd like to get some constructive criticism to improve my writing. ;)

_6/27/2007  
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	2. Chapter I

**Kingdom of Sanctuary**

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When it comes to love and war, you must always remember one lesson: never give up without a fight. AU/Fantasy

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for the two month delay. You can't believe how much I've re-edited this chapter just because I wanted it to be perfect.

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**Chapter I  
**_desperate times call for desperate measures_

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"Your turn, green man."

Aldarn gave a quick nod to the guard, stroking his sharp chin pensively, whilst his eyes examined the play-board very thorough fully. When it came to chess, the usually jolly, happy man became very serious and very tactful. That was the main reason why no one else had ever beaten him with one lousy game, because he simply wouldn't let them. Then an idea struck his mind and his fingers shoved his precious Queen over the board to another square. His opponent's mouth fell open, while Aldarn laughed gullibly.

"I win this round, my dear friend," he chuckled, while he gathered the money they betted from the table into his pockets, "Perhaps next time better."

He smiled whole-heartedly at the young man and slid his chair backwards so that he could stand on his feet with much ease. Neatly, he placed the chair back underneath the table and while he trudged past the guard, who was still gaping at the board surprised that he lost the game and hadn't moved even a millimetre, he patted on his back soothingly.

He walked through the hall-ways of the Palace with the ever-lasting smile on his face. He waved hello or bowed his head slightly to all his passer-by's, even the servants who were very pleased by the fact that someones so close to royalty noticed them for once as a human being instead of the low life commoners who had to listen to every demand. Anyone would say that the best friend of the Prince radiated more light and was more brighter than the sun, and that no dark clouds could make his day grim or would smack the smile of his face.

After walking quite a bit, he finally reached his destination and knocked hard on the black, metal door three times. He didn't get any response from the other side of the door, so he simply knock again and tapped his foot impatiently while he waited for someone to open the door for him. Sensing that wouldn't happen, he pushed the doorknob downwards and shoved the door open a crack silently to get a glimpse of the inside of the room. The room was a very large rectangular, with crimson painted walls and a huge, double-size bed with crimson (although a more lighter shade than the walls) covers in the centre of the bedroom. Aldarn could spot a figure lying on the bed, very still, almost unmovable, with his knees pulled up against his chest and his arms circling around his legs.

Prince Caleb hadn't gotten a wink of sleep that night, but he really hadn't expected to, even though he was tired. Instead, he'd spent the majority of his time lying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling with a blank, almost dead look on his face, completely unconcerned with trivial matters such as sleep. Still, he suspected he'd dozed off occasionally, because in the early morning he felt slightly less tired than the night before. But he had a terrible headache and the same sick feeling in his stomach that he'd gone to bed with the night before. Now that he was awake, however, he couldn't think of trying to go back to sleep. It would have been nice, though. At least that way, no one would expect him to do anything or even face the world.

"Prince Caleb," Aldarn addressed his friend very carefully, as though he was treading on dangerous grounds if he would have trudged forward into his bedroom without his permission.

There was only a grunt as response, echoing through the room and reaching Aldarn's ears. He stared at the young man wordlessly, he perfectly knew what was haunting the Prince's mind, but he wasn't able to form words in order to say the right to him. Prince Caleb had suffered too much agony in such a short life and due to that he was always very jumpy, always on the edge of becoming angry or irritated. Aldarn found it sad and depressing that such a youth with such a promising and colourful future could be so pessimistic and dark. Although, Aldarn must admit that there wasn't time to simply relax and look on the bright side of life, there was still war going on in the world.

Aldarn sighed shaggily at his trail of thoughts. If it was up to him, the war would have ended ages ago and there would be harmony and peace between the Kingdoms again. Too many innocents had lost their lives due this war, men and young boys who were husbands, fathers, brothers, cousins and nephews to other people died, which made the people who loved them strike with grief and pain over someone they could never ever see, speak or touch again. Even Iroh himself had been hurt because of the war… and young Caleb too.

"Prince Caleb, it's already midday. Perhaps you should get up, dress yourself and get some healthy, fresh air," Aldarn enthused, deciding to walk further inside the room instead of keep lingering at the entrance, because Calebwas mumbling in the likes of 'leave me be, want to sleep'. He made his way to the long, outstretched scarlet curtains and opened them with a tough pull on the ochre-coloured ropes.

Caleb squinted his emerald eyes at the sunshine, which was promptly filling the room. He had trouble adjusting to the brightness and held a hand in front of his eyes, in a way to shield them from the light. Irately, he scrunched up his nose and threw the sheet from his body, in order to sprint to the curtains to close them again. Once he reached his uncovered windows, he pushed his friend out of the way (nicely though, well as nice as he could be) and shut them with the ropes.

"What the hell come over you?" he barked at his Caleb, frowning as to oppose as a threat. "What were you thinking, opening the windows like that?"

His friend chuckled, with a little hint of playful mischief. "You're out of bed, aren't you?" he pointed out wisely.

Caleb groaned defeated, there was no way in refusing or ignoring one of Iroh's smart suggestions. The green man would always have a trick up his sleeve, to make you follow his directions and advices. Mostly his strong and intelligent words would persuade, but if they didn't his actions would.

"So."

Caleb frowned inquisitively and confused at his friend's simple word. "So _what_?"

While opening the curtains again (with no more trouble from Caleb), he asked concerned about his younger friend. "How are you holding up?"

Caleb shrugged his broad shoulders casually. "Good, I guess," he replied nonchalantly, unknowingly gazing down at his feet, of which one was tracing the lines of the tiles. "Why do you ask?"

"I perfectly know what's troubling you, Prince Caleb. Don't you try to beat around the bush," Aldarn confirmed Caleb's expected answer from him. "I don't remember much what occurred last night, probably have drunken a tad too much." He blushed adorably and scratched the back of his head embarrassed. Prince Caleb merely rolled his eyes at his friend's clumsiness. When he became serious again, Aldarn proceed his narration. "But I _do_ recall a grant ball for a certain Prince's twenty-first birthday, immediately marking that he's reached legal marrying age."

"Give that Prince my best wishes for his birthday when you see him, okay?" he retorted sarcastically, turning around to head for his private bathroom. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go freshen up."

Aldarn sent him a nod, more to his back since he was already gone to the bathroom. The lime man went to the Prince's soft and luxurious bed instead and planted himself down after making the bed. He would wait there for his friend to return, no longer in his pyjama's to face the world as an official twenty-one year old. But the problem was, Caleb didn't want to face the world as a twenty-one year old. Aldarn wasn't a foolish man, he saw through the façade Caleb put up last night (even when he was drunk, he noticed it), to attempt to be strong and confident in front of his people, instead of coming of weak and useless as the heir of the throne. What would his nation think of him if he would show the agony that had built up inside because of his birthday, and if they knew he didn't want to marry?

Suddenly, a servant peeked through the open door, surveying the room if anyone was inside. Aldarn smiled at the modesty of the young girl, barely into her womanhood—he estimated her age to be approximately fourteen—and he ushered her to come in.

"Come on in, you don't need to be frightened," he reassured her, one of his friendliest and charming smile appearing on his lips.

The girl, a very petite girl, with a light pale tone of skin and dark, mahogany hair walked inside with one step at a time. She collected all the dirty clothes that Caleb had worn throughout the week in a big basket. It was a very big basket, it was roughly half the girl's size, Aldarn noticed. Sometimes he found it so cruel that the servants were so mistreated and so under-paid for all the work they did inside or outside the palace. Remorsefully, he shook his head before approaching the girl rapidly. The young servant was taken aback by his sudden and unexpected action, and she took a tiny step back when he was nearing her.

Aldarn flashed her another peaceful smile. "You forgot something," he simply spoke out to her, while he crouched down to his one knee in order to pick up Caleb's shirt. He handed it to her, but she stared at it as though she was going to be punished for insolence if she would have taken the shirt from him. Realising this, Aldarn laid it in the basket a bit devastated for not being able to open her up to him, and he seated himself on the bed again, while she resumed her duty.

"What's your name?" Aldarn queried, not giving up yet. He always hated it if people were so closed, especially such a beautiful, young girl as her.

She looked at him briefly and saw he had good intentions. Still startled at the situation, she bit her lower lip anxiously. "My name is Nae, sir." It came as a whisper, like she were afraid that once she admitted it, her own identity might be stolen away from her too, just like everything else she deserved had been.

Aldarn nodded softly. "Well, that's a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl," he complimented her sincerely.

"Thank you," she remanded politely and timidly, and bowed graciously at him when she was done with her work. Then without any more words exchanged, she darted through the door keenly, since she was very uncomfortable talking to someone with such a high position as him.

Iroh sighed sadly, if only he had been named King, because if he was, there would have been made many changes to some of Irtrea's traditions. Now, everyone who wasn't wealthy was so gloom, was depressed and scared. They were afraid of the people who had power and money, people who could make them disappear if they wanted to. Aldarn found it so devastating that people were divided by gaps as that, if he could he would be the bridge to connect everyone together. Just the same with the different Kingdom, he wanted them to live peacefully together and in harmony, not in continuous battles with one other. If it wasn't for the war, things would be so different.

"Who were you talking to, Aldarn?" Caleb prodded questioningly, drying his chocolate brown locks with his cream-white towel. He was already dressed up in his usual ebony black shirt and his sepia coloured pants.

Aldarn shook his head slightly coming out of a daze, and he smiled genuinely at his younger companion. "No one particular, Prince Caleb, nothing for you to worry about," he cooed, attempting to trail away from the subject. Not that anything bad happened or harm was done, he just didn't feel like talking about it. There was another topic that needed to be discussed in fact. "But I am worried about you."

Caleb grunted irritated. "Look, I'm going to say this one last time; I'm doing fine. Great, actually… couldn't be better," he stammered.

"Prince Caleb, you can't fool me. I know when you're lying and right now, your nose is practically twenty centimetres long," he pointed out casually.

"Okay, I'll admit it, I'm not alright. But you still needn't worry though."

Aldarn motioned him to sit on the bed next to him, but Caleb declined his offer politely and grabbed a chair to sit opposite from his friend. Even Aldarn found it better if they were face to face to talk about this, because this was a very serious matter and Aldarn wanted to regard Caleb's facial reactions too. That way he could really decipher what Caleb was feeling.

"Tell me exactly why you don't want your Father to choose a wife for you," he ordered nicely.

Caleb inhaled sharply. "Because I don't believe in such marriages. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to be with someone I love for the rest of my life. I want to feel passion burning inside me, I want it to consume me, like true flames licking their way up to the surface." He stood up from his chair all of the sudden, using his hands to express his emotions a tad more. "I want to marry a woman, who's beautiful, sensational and I want to be with someone who I want to keep on kissing, caressing and touching her non-stop, with someone I can't control myself. And I want to find her myself."

Being overthrown by his answer, Aldarn swallowed loudly by the vividly depiction of Caleb. He never knew Prince Caleb was this romantic, this _old-fashioned_ as he said so himself. He was suddenly very interested in this side of Caleb, because Caleb was normally so closed and so mysterious.

"I wish I could do anything for you. Or knew what you were going through," Aldarn said, sympathetically. "I'm sorry," Aldarn suddenly and unexpectedly apologized to Caleb, and a quiet sniff was heard from the older man.

Caleb furrowed his brow. "Don't. You don't have to apologize."

Ashamed, Caleb hung his head down. Here he was, making such a big deal like a cry baby over something generations before him had to go through as well, whilst there was many worse problems in the world. Instead of being so sad, he should be grateful. He was the Prince of Irtrea, he was heir to the throne, for God's sake! He was powerful, wealthy, almost ruler of the world, if his Father won the remaining battles to conquer the world. So what if his Father had to choose a future bride for him, he would grow to love whoever it might be anyway. He just had to have a little faith and trust in his father for making the right choice. And knowing his Father, he would.

However, Prince Caleb knew somewhere, deep down, that he still regretted it all and he would trade it all just that he would be able to determine for himself who was the love of his life, that he could be on his own, that he could be… _himself_.

But the real issue was, that he didn't even know how to define '_himself_'. He did know what he liked and what he hated, but he never took the time to wonder who he truly was. Maybe it would be because he recently turned into an adult and that now was the time to go and seek himself. He would find himself and true love some time, some place.

"Aldarn," he addressed him on a whisper ever so quietly.

The other man's head snapped up. "Yes, my Prince?"

"Could you leave me be for the moment?" he questioned, while observing that Aldarn's face twisted in a look of hurt and shock at the Prince's question. Prince Caleb felt a lump of guilt sink in his stomach, but didn't show it to his best friend and simply added on the same quiet, depressing tone. "I just need some time for myself. That's all."

"I completely understand, Prince Caleb." He rose up from the bed and laid a comforting, soothing hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are going through some difficult times right now. But you must always remember that I'm here for you, no matter what."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Aldarn hugged his friend gently, who was startled by the sudden and endearing action, and simply stood with his arms stretched against his sides. Then Caleb circled his own arms around him, although a little awkwardly. Aldarn broke the hug as rapidly as he initiated it and left the room to fulfil his Prince's request. When he closed the door behind him, he caught a small glimpse of Caleb staring out through the window motionless.

_If only there was someone out there who could open Caleb to the world and let the world show who he truly was on the inside_, Aldarn thought sadly to himself as he walked away from his Prince's chamber.

* * *

Intently, he watched her every move. How she neatly placed the three plates on the table at their respectful place, how she set every cup on the right of the plate and how she grabbed the pot of steamed ricewith both her hands, well she did have gloves on of course, and put as the last item on the dinner-table. All so simple movements, yet she made it so gracious, so endearing. No other girl would be able to hold a candle to her elegance.

"Dig in," she beamed, while she seated herself opposite to him on her chair.

This time, he had to take his eyes of her to spoon out the steamed rice(which he actually disliked, but pretended to like them just for her) on his plate. His favourite was baked rice, always had and always will.

"Rick, are you alright?" she asked, promptly stopping with pouring water for her grandmother. Her ocean-blue eyes shimmered with genuine concern for him. He hadn't any clue that his trail of thoughts made his brow furrow in anguish, which she apparently noticed immediately.

His lips upturned into a real smile. "Yeah, sure. I'm doing okay thanks to your delicious batch of steamed rice," he partly lied just to satisfy her.

He was doing alright, especially because he was in her mere presence. Well, he was always in her presence since they lived together and had known each other from their childhood, but over the years he began to like her as more than just a mere friend. He knew all her likes and all her dislikes, and despite that he fell in love with her. On the outside, no one couldn't observe any of it, save from the occasional blushing, but on the inside there was this itching, a burning feeling that made his stomach all squeaky. And he knew all too well that was because he loved her.

"Oh," she mouthed, not really believing him and wanted to prod to find out what was bothering him, but then decided to drop the matter. "Okay then."

If there was indeed something troubling him, he would tell her—he always did. They never kept secrets from one other, but they did back each other up if someone had a secret from her grandmother. They were bests friend since their childhood, even soul mates, because they knew each other inside and out. They had always been attached to each other, being the only two children in the neighbourhood, they had built up this special bond that no one would be able to break.

When they were done with their supper, Rick cleared out the table and placed all the dirty dishes in the sink to wash them later on. She filled a bowl with steamed riceand headed for the door, carrying the food.

"I'm going to take this upstairs for grandmama," she mentioned, pushing the door open with her back since she was holding the bowl with both her hands.

"I can do it if you want," he said politely.

"No, it's okay," she countered defiantly, but with a genuine smile on her face. She always wanted to do more than required, because if she didn't do anything, she would feel useless and uncaring. But she did care and she wanted to contribute in the chores as much as possible, especially since Gran-Gran got terrible ill recently. And without uttering any more words she left the room, Rick could hear her walking on the stairs, as every step creaked on the wooden boards. He sighed, drooping his eye-lids half-way and took another bite of his food.

After she came back down, Rick remarked that she was sulking and pouting sadly. He couldn't stand seeing her like that and swallowed the food that he had chewed on before he asked, concerned, "Is everything alright?"

Her downcast cerulean blue eyes shot up startled at the sound of his voice and they widened at first because of that, but she shook it away quickly and forced a half-way smile. "Everything's okay," she said, but he knew she was lying, "She's still asleep, so I put down the bowl down on her nightstand. That way she can peacefully eat it when she's awake." With a loud exhale, she plopped herself down crossed-legged, shaking her upper leg rapidly and annoyed, on her previous seat and pursed her lips together in an angry pout—he knew what was bothering her so much; she was just scared about her grandmother's health.

Rick watched it from aside and was now a little frightened of speaking to her. He knew her temper tantrums all too well and he knew that when Cornelia was angry or irritated, he should back away and let her cool down first before uttering a single word to the blond-haired girl. Approaching her then, was treading on dangerous ground, and Rick liked staying somewhere that's safe.

"You don't need to ignore me," she suddenly scoffed, still facing her back towards him. She shifted on the chair and whirled around to look directly at him. When she noticed the glint of wariness in his blue eyes, she loosened up and calmed down. "I'm not mad at you, so you don't need to be scared of me, I'm just saddened that she hasn't gotten better at all," she attempted to reassure him, which she succeeded at.

"I'm not _scared_ of you, I just—I just wanted to leave you be, that's all," he pointed out simply.

She smiled at him, which made the butterflies in his stomach go wild, and she stood up, un-wrinkling her sea-blue robe rapidly with her bare hands by stroking the soft fabric down. She walked up to him.

"Rick, you are the _last_ person on Earth that needs to be scared of me."

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but the moment when her hand touched the part of his anatomy, a jolt ran down both their spines and each blushed furiously at the discovery. Quickly, she withdrew her hand and clasped it behind her back with her other hand, while he toed the wooden floor nervously and averted his gaze out the window. He thought of something to do—especially to distract her from the housekeeping and her sick grandmother—and a smirk crept on his features.

"Want to go for some swimming?" he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows at her funnily.

She opened her mouth to protest at first, seeing as she didn't want to leave her grandmother all by herself, but realised she was so deeply asleep, she decided a little dip in the lake wouldn't hurt anyone. It would only do her some good and relaxation, which she did need badly.

A cat-like grin graced her features. "I'd love to," she answered enthusiastically and excited.

"Then let's go," Rick chirped, a keen smirk plastered on his face.

They both walked down the paths through the magnificent forest they lived in, they officially lived in the village Kobayashi, but they were separated from the actual village. Cornelia and Rick passed through the forests of the Kobayashi grounds and entered an old path that had grown over with vegetation as a result of recent disuse. In silence, not exchanging a single word, but simply enjoying and being comforted by each other's reassuring presence, they strode over the old path, following the covered dirt, using it as their guide to get to the lake. After a little while, Rick spotted the flowing and lively stream next to them and indicating that the lake was close by.

Finally the river flowed into the lake, a beautiful, oval-shaped pool of water. Nearby them and the lake was a towering waterfall, that cascaded down a high cliff and into the lake below. The power and grace of the water echoed in the surrounding flora, and moss crawled its way around the damp rocks while plants grew on the banks. The air was rich with moisture and life, and the mist lifted up to caress their faces with the water's sprays.

Cornelia shut her eyes to increase the sensual pleasure and breathed in ever so slowly to feel the fresh and healthy air enter her lungs, she opened her arms wide open to feel the soft summer breeze blow past her.

"Even after coming here so often, I still can't believe how beautiful and astounding this setting is," she whispered softly, still revelling in the moment.

Her soothing and calming moment was disrupted by a loud, thunderous splash in the water. Her eyes fluttered open and she scanned the place in order to find Rick, but he was nowhere in sight.

She cupped her mouth with her delicate hands. "Rick? Where are you? Rick!" she asked, growing concern by every second.

Suddenly, she spotted Rick's head rising from the surface of the water. He blew a small fountain out of his mouth and grinned coyly at Cornelia, who was watching him from the bank of the lake, and swam some more on his back.

"Come on, Cornelia, get in here already. The water is fabulous."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and started to strip from her blue robe, until she only wore her skivvies. She threw her clothes on the pile of Rick's and stepped into the cold water. She shrieked at first when she plunged her entire body in the cold substance and shivered visibly, rubbing her bare arms for heath.

"This isn't fabulous! This is ice-cold!" she complained through chattering teeth.

Since the water close to the bank wasn't so deep, she could walk on the bottom—and still had her head and a small piece of her neck above water—towards Rick, who was swimming in a tiny circle, waiting for her to arrive at his side. When she was at the deeper part of the lake, she jumped a little up to begin swimming towards Rick and stopped once she was with him, still with a shivering body and chattering teeth.

He smirked at her and stroke her arms gently. "Here, let me warm you up," he commented in a very seductive way, moving closer and closer to her, until their noses were four centimetres away from the other.

She felt heath consume her and it showed by her red-tainted cheeks, her breathing began to grow faster, and her chest heaved up and down very noticeable. But Rick went through the same process as her, when he realised what he was currently doing and especially with who. Immediately, he withdrew his hands and pulled back two steps, so that he widened their gap.

The blush increased on his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I guess you are warm now, I shouldn't be making things too hot for you," he chuckled and pointed at her cheeks, although with an obvious fake chuckle and shaky finger.

She gasped deeply as realization dawned her and she clapped both hands at her cheeks at once, embarrassed by the discovery. It only made her even redder.

"Yeah," she replied lamely, proper words escaping her mind at the humiliation.

He laughed, with bouncing shoulders. "Oh, Cornelia, I know that I can heat up any girl, but you don't have to make it that obvious," he joked, having a big ego over himself, but only pretending though.

She slapped the surface of the water and it splashed in his face. He turned away, spitting it out, and she took the opportunity to throw herself at him, using her weight to dunk him back under the water. That didn't last long, for her weight meant nothing compared to the strength he had over her, and she soon ended up at his mercy as he caught her by the waist and tossed her up out of the water. She landed with a large splash, squealing in delight. She kicked back to the surface, looking around for him. But all she saw, was the waterfall and the empty surrounding forest, and she panicked for a moment, ducking back under the water to search.

She looked around with wide eyes, heart racing, when she felt his hands on her waist and she was turned around and swept into a big embrace.

Gasping when they went up for air, she grinned at him, sliding her arms over his shoulders as she moved close to him. "Don't you ever scare me like that again?" she whispered, touching her forehead to his. His hands tightened around her. "I can't bare to lose you."

"Cornelia," he addressed her ever so carefully.

She felt his hot breath tickling her skin, joyful and arousing shivers running over her entire being. She could barely breath herself from the intensity and she trembled, although at the same time was calmed.

When she had enough air in her lungs again, she answered, although a bit shaggily. "Yes, Rick…"

"I don't want to lose you too."

She looked up to him, still being held by his strong arms and stared deeply into his azure orbs. They stared at one either for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to them. Then he broke the everlasting stare and leaned forward, pressing his lips on hers gently and tenderly, his tongue sliding over her lips, begging for entry. Following her instincts, she deepened the kiss, by letting his tongue in and pressing her weight into him. Their tongues danced passionately with on other and so smoothly like they had done it several times before.

When they both pulled back, their lungs screaming for air, they gasped and panted from the intensity of their first kiss. The amazing and very previous welcoming feelings kept lingering over their lips, and she buried her face in his bare chest, while he loosened his grip on her, just for a little bit.

"You mean the world to me, Cornelia," he whispered in her blond hair and graced his cheek on the top of her head. "Don't you ever leave me," he said, but it did come out as a slight demand.

She looked up once more. "I won't," she reassured him and smiled genuinely at him.

Then they both leaned in for a second kiss.

* * *

Yamada was one of the most spectacular and astonishing cities of the Shang-Mei Kingdom, no where in the world could one find such a sight. It was built on a mountain and unlike the other major and main cities in the Kingdom, which were horizontal and shaped like a rectangular, Yamada was formed like a triangle and was vertical. The wall which surrounded and formed the boundaries of Yamada, was large and phenomenal. They secured the people from outsiders and enemies for such a long period of time.

The citizens knew no chaos and pain from any war—especially, since the Kingdoms lived in harmony and peace—and the soldiers who supervised the walls and were responsible for checking out all the people who entered the city, made sure to let no intruders in and keep them outside.

Until now that was.

The Jikashu Kingdomfinally discovered the grant city of Yamada and didn't grow leaves to attack with much force to conquer the city.

So the once so beautiful and peaceful city of Yamada was burning down to a crisp, flames licking their ways to the top of the city, destroying everything and everyone on their path. The Jikasutroops already penetrated through the wall and engaged in a fierce battle with the Yamadian soldiers.

King Vandom gazed sadly through the window of his throne chambre, looking down at his own forces being trampled and seemingly easy defeated by the strength and might of the Jikashu Kingdom. His soldiers stood up a brave fight, even though they knew deep down and for certain they were going to lose to their foes. But they wouldn't give up, because that wasn't in the nature of any citizen of the Shang-Mei Kingdom. They were known for their physical strength, confidence and togetherness, no matter what, no one could tear them away from their spot. However, even with all those tales and frankly the truth, King Vandom realised they would be tossed aside by the soldiers, under the command of Fire Lord Ozai, and would be captured or killed. Preferably the latter, by the King of the Jikashu Kingdom.

Shutting his eyes, not being able to witness anymore suffer from his people, King Vandomwas desperate and fell in despair. He was tired of this senseless and gruesome war that raged throughout the entire world. The entire Guang-Lee Kingdom was already defeated and wiped out from the world by the tyrant, and the citizens from the Keizu Kingdom were also overthrown and also became a colony of the Jikashu Kingdom now, some however, who were the lucky ones, were able to flee from the terror. Then there was the Thangon Kingdom, but it was a matter of time before they lay down their defences and be annihilated.

King Vandom was shaking out of his reverie, when his General Lair stalked to where he was glancing out of the window, leaning with his side against the wall. Like he was supposed to, he bowed graciously for his King, but the latter didn't notice since he was still looking out the window and not paying attention to anything else. General Lair decided the shrug the matter away and instead examined the room intently and his eyes rested on the maps strewn over the table in the centre of the room.

"Reviewing some strategies, your Majesty?" he asked, with a hint of hope clear in his voice, as if they would still have a chance to push the Jikashutroops back.

The pose of Thomasremained as still as a statue. "Yes," he replied simply without further explanation.

A smile formed on the General's thick lips. "That's wonderful, your Highness. I knew _you_, of all people, hadn't abandon hope and let us down. You are the greatest and most righteous King this city has ever had." He moved his way towards the table and planted himself down on a cot next to the table. He began to look at the maps more observantly, but couldn't see any logic or sense in the King's plans. "So, what is our next move?" he informed, while holding up a sheet to squint his eyes at, but getting impatient with looking through the strategies already to find out for himself.

King Vandomheaved a sigh, growing devastation by the naivety and ignorance of GeneralLair. "There is _no_ next move."

"What?" he whispered, appalled and taken aback by King Vandom's answer. "You can't be serious."

"I am," he remanded, still not looking at his General, but kept focused on the battle that was going on the foot of the mountain. The reflection of the fire, growing with great velocity and fresh troops blundering into the battle, ignoring the bodies lying motionless on the ground, could be seen in his eyes, but the image was blurted by the springing tears, and he felt a pang of pain and guilt stab him in his heart.

"But I don't understand. How can you sit back and don't think any of this through? Don't you care about it, or are you so messed up that you—,"

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me with such insolence and disrespect!" he interrupted Tom's insulting rambling, hissing through gritted teeth but with a loud and clear voice. The words echoed through the room eerily, when the General fell silent by the sudden anger, although it was justified and understandable.

General Lair rushed to kneel down on one knee, to show his regret and bowed his head down, drooping his eye-lids as well in the process, like a loyal and a decent General was supposed to. In his hurry, he forgot to lay down the papers in his hands, but crumpled them in his fists unknowingly instead. Not that it mattered anyway, since they were no use to the King any longer.

"My apologizes, you Highness," he said with firmly, but an underlying hushed and anxious tone seeping through his voice.

Finally, King Vandom turned around to watch his General directly and sighed exasperated when he saw the humbled composure of his high-ranked man. "You are forgiven, General," he reassured Tom, being calmed down now from his outburst, although he did say it more harshly than anticipated. "You may rise now, there's no need in kneeling down for me. Especially in desperate times like these."

The General nodded once and stood back up. He noticed the rumbled maps and tossed them on the short table again, not even bothering to iron them for his King. Carefully, he ambled towards Thomas and scooted next to him by the window. He clenched his jaw sternly and angered at the sight of horror inside the city. The Jikashu soldiers were retreating towards their camps for the night, to rest up and built up their strength for the next day, so they would be able to fight on their maximum again. Many of the citizens of Yamada rushed to the houses with buckets of water to extinguish the fire and the social workers hurried to the wounded soldiers, to carry them to the infirmary on a stretch-berry to aid and heal their injuries.

He couldn't bear to witness anymore and thereby averted his stare away from the window. He balled up his fists furiously and bit his lower lip so hard, that a drop of blood was rolling down his chin and splashed on the floor. Once the droplet touched the wooden texture and splashed into million of mini-drops of red, he couldn't hold his anger any longer.

"I can't stand this anymore! There must be _something_ we can do!"

King Vandom remained quiet and didn't flinch at the screaming frustration of his General, he didn't move even a millimetre. He clasped his hands behind his back and watched how the once so bright and light baby blue sky turn pitch-black, with the stars sparkling, contrasting the dark background. The moon was high, half full, and illuminated the city—or better yet, what was left of the city—of Yamada.

The General elicited a growl of a combination of the emotions frustration, anxiety and madness. Slowly, he inhaled, to attempt to cool down, but it had no avail at all. He was physically and mentally unable to calm down, he hated everything and he had to let it all out, or he would combust any time soon. He just literally exploded.

"We have to do something—_anything_, for that matter. We have to stop them, otherwise who will? And at this rate, it will be a matter of time before they're strong enough to break through the walls! We have to find some way to stop those crazy bastards! It's our duty, your Highness, we're obliged to save the world and you know it."

"You're right." A sigh escaped King Vandom's lips shakily. "You're absolutely right."

The General furrowed his brow, a little ticked of and annoyed. "Then why don't you _at least_ try to figure something out?" he paused for a mere minute, to glance around the room rapidly to find something. Abruptly, he stopped and pointed out the window, a finger guiding Thomas's eyes towards the dark sky. "How about we fight them _now_?"

King Vandomgaped at him as if Tom had gone insane. Contemplating on that matter, Thomas crossed his arms in front of his chest and slouched against the wall, looking oddly at the General through half-lid eyes, trying to detect something that confirmed his suspicion.

Ignoring his King, Tom continued his constant rambling. "They're retreating. They won't have no idea that we would do something. We should attack them _now_, we _must_ attack them now while they are the weakest."

King Vandom snorted. "Right. That's an _excellent_ idea," he emphasized the word clearly, as an underlined insult for the General, who hadn't missed it and looked quite offended. "Why don't you get the troops ready in position, then huh? But you might have some trouble even getting to the camps of the firebenders, since our soldiers are down for the count. They need to heal from the wounds first, General Lair, otherwise they can't fight at all."

Ashamed, the General hung down his head. "At least I _try_ to come up with a plan," he whispered on a barely audible tone, but the King did hear him.

He rubbed his eyes pensively. The General was right, he should at least make an effort to try to come up with some kind of strategy. Even if they wouldn't stand a chance, they did their best anyway and that was what a war stand for. If they didn't act, then they would loose everything anyways, but if they tried, then there was still hope.

And _hope_ is the most precious gift a man or woman can receive.

And King Vandom should give his people hope, that was his duty and obligation after all, even if would be at any cost.

Promptly, King Vandomstrode to his desk, which was stacked with other maps and papers, it was one huge mess. His eyes travelled to a rolled-up parchment, a blank one, and he hastily unrolled to lay it down on top of the mess. Then he grabbed his ink and dipped the tip of a feather in the royal blue context to have writing material.

The General deepened his frown, making his forehead wrinkle in worry, when he observed his King move around so rushed and with a glint of hope in his eyes. In a way, he was glad to see that comforting sparkle, but he was concerned of the King's sudden—and peculiar—behaviour.

"What are you writing, Sir?" he asked, his eyes following the rapid movements and flows of the King's writing hand.

The King didn't even bothered to look up to him and merely proceeded his writing, while responding with an excited tone. "Something I should have written a long time ago."

Confused at the dubious and hollow reply, the General arched both his eyebrows to his hairline and mumbled. "Okay then. Useful information. Why should he—,"

The King kept ignoring his General's muttering and his eyes remained glued on the almost full clad parchment. When he was done with his letter, he carefully signed his name to the bottom of the parchment and sat back in satisfaction.

It was then that the General's word reached his ears and it annoyed him as hell, since he wanted to inspect his own letter intently and with all the focus he needed. "Can't you keep your mouth shut just for a inconsiderable few minutes?" the King interrupted snappishly. He blew on the parchment to dry the ink, then he quickly read his own letter to correct his faults and to add some finishing touches.

The General decided wisely to shut his tramp, than to disobey his King and instead, straightened and gazed at the King, who was finished with the letter and folded the parchment carefully and neatly, and afterwards sealed it with wax.

He smiled contently and self-satisfied, and handed it over to the General. As soon as the paper left his hand, the King sat back in his large, cushioned chair and stared at his desk, covered in letters, papers, and everything else. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden tabletop, pressing his hands over his face while keeping his eyes shut tight. He ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair, tucking his chin in one palm as he stared out of the window.

"I expect you to deliver this in time. If you do have any hopes to get rid of the Jikashu forces," he proclaimed, his voice clear and imposing.

"Is this a new master plan? But I thought you gave up already and now, suddenly, you're talking about hope again."

A small smile tucked at Thomas's lips. "One must never fall in despair," he spoke confidently.

Tom opened his mouth to remand something at the advice and life lesson, but closed it promptly. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously and confusingly. "What are you going to do, your Majesty?"

King Vandom stopped staring out the window once more and adjusted himself on his chair to be able to look directly in the General's eyes. The brown-hairedman scraped his throat shortly and exhaled sharply.

"Like I said before, General, we are living in desperate times now. And desperate times call for desperate measures."

* * *

tbc

* * *

**A/N:** Anyways, you know the drill.

10/8/2007

* * *


End file.

W.I.T.C.H., Adventure, Romance