A Beautiful Curse

Chapter 3 - Summoned to the King

A/N: This picture is Charles the Second (the Merry Monarch) himself.

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  The hustle and bustle of the ball was really too much. Scheming mamas clucked in groups like a flock of hens, surveying the competition and targeting the unmarried men and sometimes women of the gathering, depending on the gender of their offspring.

Noble men, married or not, eyed the young women like the hawk would eye the mouse. The youngest ones were easy prey; unknowing of intention and eager to please.

Noble women, married or not, flirted behind their fans, whispering seductive dares and promises into the ears of willing males.

It was the same every time. Nothing would change how society operated. Men would have wives in their homes and mistresses at secret rendezvous'. Women would be used and abused until men wanted them no more.

It was indeed a man's world. My mother had said so when I was only six summers old. "Men will always seek to conquer. That is their way. You, Anne, my little flame, shall be strong. Do not fear when men despise you, for there will always be those that despise you."

I remembered blinking at her with big brown eyes, curious as to what she was talking about. "But I will marry someday, Papa says," little me had said.

My beautiful mother had looked me straight in the eye and said, "My little flame shall have men fear her strength, fear her intelligence, fear her wisdom. The man you will marry won't seek to douse that fire... he will seek to strengthen it, to make it brighter, to have your fire burn with his own. Remember my words, my beloved, and settle for no less."

And I had listened and kept every word lodged deep in my heart. Since my coming of age, I had frightened possible suitors and other leering men with my spite and scorn for their pathetic behavior, my strength to ward them off with my ever present frustration and disgust for society's trends and with 'beauty that burns and scorches with every uninvited touch' as my brothers had boasted.

And yet somewhere in that hall, my intended stood and was waiting to be introduced to me after five years of avoiding me. He had once written to my parents about rumors of my behavior and his concern for our consigned future together. I would care not for an insubordinate wife were his very words.

I felt Sophia's claws dig into my arm as we walked through the hall but I strained to show no sign of pain, which angered my stepmother even more. We were summoned to the throne of the king by special request of his majesty.

My stepmother's anger was apparent as she spat into my ear, "I also was going to have a word with you about earlier today. Your blatant disregard for propriety today is becoming more appalling by the day. How dare you return to the house across the lap of that man, a stranger to you?!"

I turned to argue, "Stepmother, that was not my intention-"

"Of course it was. You do every little thing you can to spoil Petunia's chances by creating scandal. You shall be punished." She turned to straighten her back as she walked purposefully forward, through the crowd. "And you will dance with your intended tonight," she hissed and then walked in front of me, flinging my arm from her grasp.

I remained unconcerned of the pain that throbbed my arm. Petunia quickly stepped by, knocking my shoulder spitefully with her own and gave me a nasty, smug smile, her dark curls bouncing over her pale shoulders.

I rolled my shoulders and continued to walk forward with my head held high. Neither of them scared me. Two spoilt, arrogant beauties. I am proud of who I am and what I am like. I never had any regrets in life... besides my lack of persuasion when it came to my father's choice to take a second wife. That was the biggest regret I had.