As they were surrounded and filled with darkness, Willow no longer felt the grip of Angel's hand, and the howling of the wind drowned out any sound of his voice...
****
It wasn't the sound of voices that woke Willow up, though they were speaking in hushed tones as she dragged herself into consciousness. It was the feeling of a warm breeze on her cheek, though once awake she wasn't sure whether or not she had dreamed it.
Her ears began functioning before she managed to raise her eyelids, and she slowly began to focus on the conversation being conducted in hushed tones very nearby.
"...don't think it's right. She shouldn't be some sort of olive branch for the sake of the country. She's a living breathing and lovely girl, not a peace offering," a sympathetic voice whispered.
"She isn't just any girl, she's royalty. And royalty's got obligations, as sure as they've got blue blood." The second voice was not unkind, but it held a harsh edge of reality. Willow wondered about the unnamed girl they were discussing. She was fairly sure she was able to open her eyes, but kept them shut, hoping to hear more of the discussion.
"Whatever color her blood is, she has a heart, and to see it wasted on a scoundrel like that boy-" the first voice insisted.
"Not very respectful words, considering he's your future king."
"Pah! She's my present princess, and I don't want to see her spoiled by the likes of him."
Willow found herself more and more interested. So, she was in a land of royalty. That was fairly exciting.
"Think of the lives that will be saved," the down-to-earth voice pointed out. Willow heard the other woman snort in response. "Yes, and only think of how her life will be ruined."
Willow was fascinated by her eavesdropping, but the urge to open her eyes and see her surroundings overwhelmed her desire to hear more. She moaned ever so softly as her eyes fluttered open.
The first thing she saw was the heavily brocaded canopy that blocked her view of the ceiling. Looking down at herself, she found the disobedient tank top gone, replaced by a nightshirt of forget-me-not satin. The eiderdown quilt that covered her was a deep maroon, with patches of darkness fading in and out in the flickering light of a large fireplace.
Her contemplation of her surroundings was cut off as two women immediately flanked her bedside. They looked similar in age-- late forties. One had once had blonde hair, hair which had been more white than gold for at least a few years. The other was a former brunette, but gray had been encroaching as time had passed. Each had faces with abundant smile lines, though there were marks of repeated sadnesses as well. Most of all, Willow found them comforting.
"Well, look who's awake," the blonde woman smiled as she brushed a strand away from Willow's face.
"We've been worried, since you fainted at the banquet last night." the brunette added.
Willow judged it best to say nothing, since she had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Your Highness," the first woman said.
A startled look crossed Willow's face at the sound of the word 'highness'.
This was so very not good.
****
Willow sat in her dressing gown, staring rather dully into the fire. She had finally convinced Marie and Gwen (blonde and brunette, respectively) that she didn't need ladies-in-waiting to hover as she sat in a chair.
Ladies-in-waiting. No, no, no, no, and no.
"This isn't possible," Willow said out loud to no one in particular. Technically, she should have been right. It shouldn't be possible for an eighteen year old college student to go help a friend in LA and be sucked through a mysterious portal only to discover that she was still an eighteen year old, but instead of a college student, she was the only daughter of an aging king and betrothed to the son of their long time enemy.
Yet, there she was...
Willow had done her best to find out what was going on, but it was difficult, since Marie and Gwen had no idea that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. She had mostly gathered that the foreign king and his son were considered barbarians by her father, which is why the two countries had been at war for as long as there had been history. Unfortunately, barbarians or not, they were good at warfare, and a peace agreement had finally been reached. Each king, weary of a stalemate that was no less bloody for its lack of change, would give up that which they held most dear.
Their children.
Of course, the fact that the children were adults did not change the fact that they were forced to submit to the wills of men who were not just their fathers, but their monarchs besides.
So it was that Her Royal Highness Aurelia Celestyn Isolde Leoline Meridel Solenne Wilona Yolanthe was engaged to be married to His Royal Highness Alaric Calhoun Garrard Jarlath Nealon Raynor Thedric Ware.
Willow moaned again at the thought. Betrothed? She had agreed to help Angel, but holy matrimony to a strange prince was a bit more than she had anticipated...
Suddenly, she sat straight up in her chair. Where was Angel? Was he even alive? She thought they had arrived in the night, but there was no way to be sure. How would he find blood to eat? What if someone saw his 'grr' face and tried to kill him? How was she ever going to find him if she was stuck in the Royal Palace all day?
Slumping back in her seat, she let out a frustrated sigh. If she had been a...dairymaid, or some other variation on a peasant girl theme, she would have been able to look for him. As it was, in the midst of the machinations of an upcoming Royal Wedding, she would simply have to hope he was somewhere nearby.
A timid knock came from the huge carved door. "Yes?" she answered wearily. Marie came in quietly.
"Willow, dearest, what's the matter?" Willow looked at her strangely for a moment.
"You called me Willow." Having the same name would definitely make things easier, but she was sure it hadn't been one of the eight carefully selected royal monikers she now possessed.
"Ever since you learned how to speak," Marie replied.
"Tell me the story again," Willow asked, hoping she had heard it before. Fortunately, Marie smiled, making Willow think the tale was commonly repeated.
"You were only twelve months old," Marie began, "and you were just learning how to speak. You never replied to your name, however. We called you Princess, we called you Aurelia, but you paid us no mind. One day, I sat you on my knee and began telling you about your christening. You looked up at me with those huge green eyes, and I could have sworn you understood every word I said. When I got to the part about naming you, I imitated the priest who had performed the ceremony. He had said all your names, so I named them as well-- 'Princess Aurelia Celestyn Isolde Leoline Meridel Solenne Wilona Yolanthe'. You had been listening till then, but your eyes just lit up when I said all your names. Well, one in particular, it turns out. A few moments later, you spoke, repeating back the second to last name. Actually, you couldn't manage the 'n', so it just came out 'Willow'. Ever since that day, you refused to be called anything else." Marie smiled, taking hold of Willow's hand.
"What does it mean? Wilona?" Willow asked.
"Desired," Marie replied. "Your father had wanted a child for so long, that the name seemed completely suitable. He chose all of your names for the meanings-- Aurelia means golden, and even as a newborn your hair seemed to glow. Furthermore, he has always said you are more precious than gold to him. Celestyn means heavenly, Isolde means fair lady, Leoline means lion. We could all tell how brave you were, even then. Meridel is a form of Mary, and it was given to you to honor me, so close was I to your mother. Solenne means sunshine, and that is what you have always been to everyone around you. Finally, Yolanthe means violet flower. That may not mean much to most people, but your mother loved violets, and your father loved her, so he gave you that name." Willow was looking forward to meeting her father, a man who loved his wife and daughter so much, yet would give his daughter away to an enemy prince...
"Marie?" she asked. "What is Prince Alaric like?" Marie frowned but did not speak, so Willow tried again.
"Never mind. What do his names mean?" Marie's frown deepened.
"His names mean that his father has delusions of grandeur, mostly. Alaric means ruler of all, if that gives you any indication. The rest are as bad if not worse. Calhoun means warrior, and Garrard means 'with a mighty spear', of all things. Jarlath means man of control, which is typical of how they run their country's affairs. Nealon means champion, Raynor means mighty army, Thedric means ruler of the people, and Ware means defender.
All in all, his names mean that he's the crown prince of a country full of bloodthirsty barbarians. I honestly don't know much about the son, but if the father is any indication..." Marie broke off, realizing that she was hardly assuaging the fears of a young girl being forced into an arranged marriage. "But what do I know? For all I know, he may be very...kind," she finished lamely. Her voice betrayed her thoughts, and Willow sensed that she should expect no kindness from her fiance.
Marie left her with a comforting pat on her shoulder, and Willow groaned yet again. She had never missed the Hellmouth so much.