The Heartless Dancer

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"There is no real ending. It's just the place where you stop the story." Quote by Frank Herbert

"Please continue. " Bryar pleaded. She was really into the story and waited in anticipation to hear how the story continued. Aoide coughed once and began to continue with her voice clear.

"Mila was quite a disruptive girl and she always loved a good scandal. She often helped her own enemies' downfall by creating a complete spider's web of lies and deceit so that most of the girls would just disappear out of shame. She knew when she had chosen to come to St. Vitus Academy that she had made the right choice. She started by enchanting the two most handsome and important boys of the school: Nolan Rockefeller and Damon VanderBilt."

"VanderBilt? You mean like – headmaster VanderBilt?"Bryar asked. The story was completely entrancing and very interesting to listen to. Aoide could voice the story's dialogue so well that Bryar found herself envisioning the people and the past of the school.

"Yep, the one and only." Carmina answered while playing with Noa's hair, braiding it then taking it out and re-braiding it again.

"The VanderBilt's have owned the school ever since it started so they have an incredibly long history here." Noa said, adding to Carmina's answer while wincing when Carmina tugged her hair too hard. Bryar nodded.

"Okay. Please carry on Ide, you had me completely lost in the story." Bryar asked, earning a big smile from Aoide.

"Sure. Well... She knew if she had the two boys in her power, she would be able to bring down the dance school. Edmund VanderBilt had hurt her in a way that was unfixable so she wanted to break the only thing he really loved: the school. But the problem was with the two boys: they were nearly the complete opposite of one another. While Nolan was heavenly and sweet, Damon was dangerous and risky. In the beginning she kept faithful to Nolan, giving him all her attention but slowly she moved over to Damon. She would accidentally bump into him or they kept meeting up together – as if destiny itself had planned it. The plan was her little dirty secret, but secrets always have an uncanny way of getting out – just like this one did. And the consequences were greater than Mila ever dared to dream of."

"The big secret of this story was why Mila wanted her revenge. What did Edmund VanderBilt do to her to make her so upset and hurt – which later made her become so angry? It had been some time ago – she was probably just fifteen. She had been walking through the streets of Norway when she had caught the eye of a young man. He was obviously older, roughly in his late twenties. He had beautiful golden eyes and dark hair that always looked extremely unruly on his head. Mila fell instantly in love with him. It was the eighteenth century so when older men were romantically involved with younger women it wasn't frowned upon. He had walked up to her and they just started to chat. After a while Mila was sure that he liked her as well. He was a foreigner and didn't know that she was a princess so he treated her like a normal girl. It was what she loved the most about being with him – she could just be herself. They kept meeting up and both fell deeply in love with each other."

Only Mila couldn't just escape her duties as a princess and when she turned sixteen her parents had betrothed her to a prince. He was the best kind of husband any girl could wish for: kind, sweet, honest, and helpful. He had fallen for Mila before they even met but she was in love with the man with the golden eyes. The prince had been asked by the king to take good care of his daughter and he pledged that he would do so – always. So when Mila kept leaving the house more often, it was only natural that he would notice. She became kinder and more open. He thought that he'd finally found the key to her heart and that she loved him as well. One night, the prince followed her to see where she always went and planned that he would take her by the hand and make her his bride before the night had ended.