Saving Sebastian

The first thing Meg registered was the cold.

She stretched her arm out and felt the ground. A prickly powder flew between her fingers. She pushed them into the ground and grabbed a handful of the frozen floor.

Snow.

Her eyes fluttered open and looked up at the canopy of bare branches high above her. Icicles hung from them menacingly, sparkling in the fading light.

Where was she?

That was when Meg became aware of the pain coming from her left temple. Her hand instinctively flew up to feel it and found a large lump, sticky with blood. Touching it made her wince, and she closed her eyes tight, shivering from the cold.

What had happened?

The thought of her twin brother made her eyes fly open. Sebastian! She was looking for Sebastian! No, not looking...she had found Sebastian. He had been there.

It slowly starting coming back to her; the ball, Sebastian's death sentence, her plea to the royal court . . . oh---that had not gone well. She remembered the King's fury and his accusation that her brother had kidnapped the Princess Viola. She remembered her poor Bastian, tied up and bloody from obvious beatings.

Meg fought the vertigo and slowly pushed herself up. The pain was searing, and she grabbed the snowball she had created and held it against her head. She cried out but held it there, knowing she had to stop the swelling.

The idea that Sebastian could somehow be involved in such a crime was preposterous. But shouting at the King and Queen that they were being ridiculous had probably not been her wisest moment. And then the King . . . he sent his . . . stone gargoyles after her? No, that couldn't be right. Stone gargoyles coming to life? The bump on her head must have been toying with her memory.

Meg looked down and saw that she was still in the tulle gown, which would probably made her look like nothing more than a snowdrift to a passerby. She became aware of the white wool fingerless gloves and white fur caplet around her shoulders. Meg examined them with curiosity; they certainly weren't hers. The dress wasn't either, but at least she could remember how she got it.

Looking around, she saw nothing but bare trees and snow. No clues to help her remember how she had gone from being chased by . . . alright, for lack of a better memory, GARGOYLES, to being in a snowy wood with a bloody forehead. And another person's winter clothes.

But the way her dear, innocent Sebastian had looked away when she was defending him to the court . . . he hadn't even had the physical strength to lift his head. Meg's fury started to return. He had nothing to do with any Princess kidnapping! Meg's noble, courageous twin brother? Of course not! What would his motive be? Who were his false accusers? Probably the kidnappers themselves!

Some of her strength gathered, Meg started to gather up her enormous skirt. Romantic and breathtaking at a royal affair, impractical and clumsy in a snowy wood. At least the layers were staving off the cold. When she began to try and stand, she discovered just how soft and deep the snow was. This was going to be difficult. Never mind that she had no idea where she was headed; the trek through the woods was going to take a lot of effort...perhaps more than her head was ready to let her handle. She plopped back down into the soft ground and replaced her half melted cold compress for a fresh one. She could feel the pain subsiding as the snow numbed the mysterious lump.

It was time for a plan. How could she find her way back to the palace? And what did she expect to do once she got there? Break Sebastian from the prison? That was a stretch. Her best hope for saving her brother was to prove him innocent in the first place.

But what had happened to the Princess Viola?

"Margaret?"

The deep voice made her jump with surprise. She looked around to find its owner and discovered a tall stranger standing behind her.

"Who---who are you? How do you know my name? And where did you come from? And . . ." She paused as she realized that he was standing on the soft snow. "And how are you walking without sinking?"

"Shhh," the stranger soothed. "One thing at a time." Meg turned as best she could and watched as he unfastened large woven paddles from his boots. "First, let me see that bump." He knelt down next to her and took the snowball from her hand; his light blue eyes concentrating on her forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to treat it; we just barely got away as it was."

Meg just stared, transfixed by his hypnotic eyes. Had she met him before?

"Are you in a lot of pain?" The handsome stranger asked.

"N--no . . . ," she stammered, "I mean, yes, but no. Not a lot of pain. It's much better than when I first woke up anyway."

"Well, here, I brought this for you." He looked down and reached into a leather satchel he'd had on his back. From it he pulled a jar of foul smelling ointment and a bandage. Brushing his blonde hair from his eyes, he began placing the medicine (at least, that's what Meg hoped it was) on her injury. The pain seemed to subside almost immediately, and she sighed from relief. He then proceeded to tenderly wrap the bandage around her head. "Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you."

He began putting the remaining items away and latching his paddles back onto his boots.

Meg took advantage of the silence and started again. "Who are you? Do you know what's happened to my brother?"

The stranger shook his head as he half-smiled and untied another pair of snow-walking-paddles from his back. "You really should take it easy; you got a pretty serious blow from one of the gargoyles."

Gargoyles. Well, there was one question answered at least.

He stood up and came around to her front and pulled her feet up one by one out of their three foot ditch. He then latched each of her boots (other new items, Meg realized) to one of the paddles.

"Alright Margaret, take my hands and I'll pull you up." She reached out and put her cold fingers in his warm hands. She had never held a man's hand before, and hoped she wasn't blushing. Or that if she was, he would attribute it to the cold. He pulled her up so quickly that she stumbled and found herself very close to the stranger. Their eyes met and he paused. So did she.

"Dizzy?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted quietly.

Neither of them pulled away.

"I'm Alden."

"Margaret." She said in exchange, then blushed again. "But you seem to know that." He smiled. "Do I know you? Have we met before?"

"No." He looked away decidedly but held on to her hand, and began helping Meg walk on the snow. "But I'm a friend of your brother's." He started leading her in the direction he'd come from. "Sebastian asked me to look after you, should anything happen to him."

Meg stopped, frozen with fear. "Did---did they---?"

"No, not yet. He's still being held prisoner. But his friends---we're going to save him. We have a plan, and we're ready. He shouldn't have to die for all of us."

"Die for all of us? For whom? And for what?"

Alden turned to look at Meg, his eyes serious. "Margaret, Sebastian kidnapped the Princess Viola."

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