Beautiful Charm
Chapter One: From the End to the Beginning to...?
The sky filtered a golden shade over the peaches and leftover blue of daytime, stratus clouds winking in and out of sight, playing foreground to a giant, floating abode—some called it a castle. At first glance, or second or third, it seemed rickety in places at best, almost tattered, nearly falling apart at the edges (and it had a lot of edges.) But most who were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the moving castle knew it better than that and the grandeur of its widely known keeper made it more a beacon of greatness rather than a ramshackle mobile home. Howl, they called him now—once known as Pendragon, once known as Jenkins and both of the latter at the same time. Now it was only Howl. The story went that he had met an old woman with the spirit of a young girl who gave him back his heart with the aid of a scarecrow with the head of a turnip, a wheezing old dog, an apprentice, a depleted witch, and a fire demon. Of course, you can't believe everything you hear, but in this world where wizards and witches were not so unusual, the chances of that story being true were much greater than most.
Back to the present though, the sky was spattered with a gold glow and as a kind wind gave a gentle nudge against the Northeast side of the Howl's Moving Castle, a sound almost like a glass latch rang softly and a door opened to a small porch area overlooking the endless firmament. Sophie favored this deck out of all the other nooks and crannies to be found—inside or out of the dwelling—and most twilights, many similar to this one, found her out on it, elbows resting lazily on the metal railing. It was only the edge of summer, but a rogue autumnal gust swept its way up and around her, causing a shiver as Sophie stood up from her leaning position to rub her hands up and down her arms to stop the chill. Her starlight inspired hair, still short from when she had given her braid to Calcifer, grazed her cheeks, disrupted by the wind and she was seriously considering retreating back inside when a weight settled over her shoulders and arms.
"For a girl who taught me all I needed to live, you don't seem to have any common sense," a laughing, but not unkind voice chided her and she rolled her eyes.
"Something I sacrificed when I met up with you, I seem to recall," Sophie quipped too lovingly to be misconstrued as biting, and Howl chuckled in the sort of timbre that had surely stolen many girls' hearts before he met Sophie. Ignoring her challenging stare, he readjusted the cloak he had draped over her and then drew her to him, pleased when, as usual, she nestled gladly into his embrace. "How are you tonight, Howl?"
"Very good right now," he smiled through half-lidded eyes down at her, and instinctively bent and angled toward her for a kiss. The gesture managed to somehow be heartbreakingly tender. Perhaps it was because Sophie was the first person Howl was ever able to learn such gentleness from, the first person to ever inspire such a softness in him and maybe because of that, it was that pure. In any case, both wizard and former hat-maker let it linger, the latter bringing her hand to her lover's face to frame his right cheek, the former drawing her a little closer, hand resting comfortably around Sophie's waist. The kiss might have deepened if not for a sudden and distinctive wheeze and exhale from below. Sophie paused in the kiss and glanced down at Heen. Once Sulliman's lapdog and extra set of eyes, he now resided with the motley bunch of Howl's castle. A long, doleful stare and another wheeze later, the chicken-legged dog turned in two scattered circles before plopping down at their feet and wheezing again.
"He's cuter now that I don't have to carry him," Sophie remarked lightly and Howl good-naturedly gave a short laugh.
"Yes, I suppose that would change your perspective favorably," he said and looked over his shoulder at the stars as they sparkled into view. "Sophie, look," he whispered down at her ear level. She turned and he moved to accommodate the movement, shifting his arm to go around her shoulders, all of this going unnoticed by Heen of course—who if he did notice, didn't deign to give any hint of it. Howl could feel Sophie's smile and as he had learned it always did, it made him smile too, made him feel warm and certain like he never was before he met her.
"I am glad I met you, Howl of Howl's Moving Castle," Sophie smiled up at him through starlit bangs and his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck with a kiss.
"And I you," he whispered, even though there was no one else around to hear him but her. His lips trailed the natural curve from her neck to her shoulder, infused with a sudden burst of very human passion. Instinctively Sophie let her head move gently to the opposite side, giving him better access as he elicited a combination of a sigh and a gasp from her by taking an extra moment to suckle the juncture at her throat and her collarbone.
"Howl, Howl," she somehow managed to reclaim her voice in the midst of her pulse hammering and the flush she felt and he paused in his administrations to glance at her questioningly.
"Is something wrong, Sophie?" he asked, suddenly worried he had gotten even a little carried away.
"No, it's just...can we just look at the stars for now? It's so beautiful tonight. I doubt we'll see many things so lovely," she smiled softly, and a little sheepishly. Howl's face eased a bit, shirking his worry and drawing her closer to him if possible.
"Of course, love, but you know, the problem there, when I look at you, I know I'll never see anyone more beautiful, or anything," he admitted, resting his chin lightly on the crown of her head. To this, she simply laughed a little and playfully batted at his arm, uselessly, but with every intent of teasing him.
"What is beautiful?" she challenged in an almost detached manner, almost rhetorical. So he let it go unanswered and just settled against the railing as she leaned into him, watching the stars. They were beautiful tonight after all.
The later hours of that night had Sophie sitting at the window seat in the kitchen, watching the ground pass below them absently. Her hands played restlessly with an odd part of her dress that wouldn't lay flat and she scarcely noticed the sigh that escaped her own lips. Something was bothering her and she didn't even know what, and maybe that was the most frustrating part of it all. It was definitely something though and she had a feeling it was impending which did nothing to lighten her somewhat omniscient worry of late. A wheeze sounded from her lower right, bringing her away from her reverie and a slight smile crept onto her face as she bent down to scratch behind Heen's ears, her amusement showing more perceptibly when he lightly thumped his tail against the floorboards. Lifting an index finger, she shushed him for fear of waking anyone else though.
"Can't go around robbing everyone else of sleep just because we can't," she reasoned lightly and sighed yet again, settling back against the wall, the sky moving out in front of her through the window like a sea of indigo ripples and gray-blue clouds. As no one else was awake—and as Heen had no sense of time at all—it wasn't certain what time her eyes closed for the night, but close they did, her left arm at her side, resting on the window seat's cushiony surface, right arm draped carelessly across her middle. And this is how he found her the next morning.
I don't think she can possibly be comfortable like that, Howl mused to himself, a mixture of the slightest concern and the greatest love moving in him now. He did wonder at why she had not slept in her room, but this was not the first time she had fallen asleep somewhere not including a bed and this was not the first time he had found her as such. Almost, he did not mind that she seldom found her way back to her room; watching her sleep with such a peaceful expression filled him with some sensation he could not name, but it was a good one—it might have been contentment. If she had grown in their experiences together even a little, he had grown tenfold since his heart was restored to him. He still had the quirks of a child, but they were more often now just those ones he himself wanted to hold onto, rather than things out of his control.
Sophie chose this moment, it seemed, to shift in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her, a murmur perhaps. At this, Howl moved to her side, placing his hand over hers and, a thought occurring to him, bent down to kiss her. Almost subconsciously, Sophie responded, welcoming his lips with hers and by the time she was fully awake Howl was sitting in front of her, arms on either side of her, pinning her somewhat to where she now sat. When they broke apart, Sophie noted a distinct glow about Howl that seemed to start in his eyes and radiate deep within him somewhere and smiled.
"Morning, you" she greeted amicably and he chuckled, the vibration of it resonating through his chest that made it feel almost like a purring sensation to Sophie. Of late Howl had been finding himself more and more attracted to the young hat maker. He suspected, personally, that this was because he had at first only been drawn to her spirit, not that that was something to be "only" about. It was after all, Sophie's spirit, that set her so far ahead and above every other girl he had ever even thought about seeing. Still, that had left much room and since she returned him his heart, many months to grow to love her—yes, he definitely loved her, was in love with her even—for that spirit, and her practicality and her seemingly unflappable kindness.
Of course, during their initial adventures he had looked in on her sleeping, not the least surprised that she had actually been a young girl who was cursed and accepted that. But truth be known, she was most of the time in the form of a 90 year old woman, and while that was fine because he still found himself ridiculously in love with the dear hat maker, it did have its effects, such as setbacks. Setbacks like Howl only now—a few months later—beginning to acknowledge fully his attraction for her, and as it had been delayed, he felt this to be part of the reason it was so...prominent.
And now that he did, and he did very much so, he found himself needing to express that more and more and in deeper and deeper ways, sometimes ways he felt that really could only be translated through physical means. Of course he never pushed anything upon her, he would not dare, too fearful of losing what was perhaps the best part about his life now. Still, not pushing didn't make it any easier to ignore that their experiences in the not so distant past had matured Sophie too, the shorter hair framed her face better and the starlight hue gave her fair skin that moonlit quality 24/7. And her eyes.
It was funny, she would go on about his eyes sometimes, how she was sure that it was through them he was able to—in the past—steal so many young ladies' hearts. But it was hers that he was fascinated with. Once he told her this and she practically laughed out loud, actually, she did. As he recalled, it had happened something like this:
"Come now, Howl, be serious. My eyes? They're brown!" she exclaimed, clearly amused but Howl noted an undertone of that old, somewhat withdrawn and very self-critical part of Sophie he sometimes forgot was still a part of her, different or no.
"Hazel," he corrected kindly, "Hazel like winter wood, enduring and strong, beautiful at any time of year, Sophie...you're beautiful," he repeated those last words from when he had first shown her his "secret garden". Only this time, she did not shrink back into her shell depicted by the form of an old woman. This time Sophie could only blush slightly, which Howl thought secretly was becoming on her anyway, and she suddenly seemed to become extremely fascinated with the floor.
"I know you're too candid to just say that, but you understand I just don't see what you see," she finally said, in true Sophie fashion, quiet but appreciative even of what she did not fully comprehend.
"I know, but that's okay. That's why you have me," he stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up gently with his right hand, gently forcing eye-contact. "I am here," his words became a whisper only for her, "to remind you until you believe me and after that, I'll simply have more reasons to do things like this." Continuing to lightly hold her face towards him, he leant in to brush his lips ever so slightly against hers and even Sophie's self-consciousness could not stop the smile he felt in her lips against his.
That was about a month ago. It had been seven months or so since the Prince returned to his kingdom's palace and Howl himself had gotten his heart and Calcifer was finally free to do what he pleased—even though in the end, he stayed with the castle as it was. Sophie sensed something of Howl's newer desires but as she did not completely understand them, she had a hard time figuring out that she was having similar stirrings, if different in their ways of making themselves known. Still, she tried to accommodate him as best she could without causing discomfort to either of them.
"So what's on your schedule for today?" Sophie's eyes glimmered at him in such a way that Howl knew, if she could see that sparkle, she would finally really realize what he meant when he said he loved her eyes.
"Oh you know, I might just laze about all the hours of the day away," he said with a smirk that was not unkind but more mischievous, a trademark expression Sophie came to identify with his more playful side. Rolling her eyes, she made as if to push him off the window seat and putting a little more power into it than she had estimated, she actually did.
Now, if a Howl with reddish hair agonizing over his vanity is an interesting sight, a floored (literally) one with only a hint of what just happened to him dawning is even more so. She tried not to giggle, not to laugh and if she did, she tried her very best to stifle it. When Howl arched an elegant eyebrow at her as if to say: what's so funny, hm? She knew she hadn't quite maintained the silence.
"Well, that was unexpected," he remarked, unfazed as only Howl could be and Sophie just shook her head at him.
"That makes it so for two of us. I'm sorry, I did not mean to really push you so hard," she admitted with a bit of sheepishness and lifted her arms above her head, stretching like a cat.
"I guess this means I'm not to laze about all the hours of the day, then?" he drawled teasingly and Sophie simply threw a pillow from the seat at him, hitting him square in the face.
That afternoon found Howl in one of the new rooms he had added to the castle. It was stationary right now, sitting pretty in one of the many foothills that came before the Wastelands. Markl was outside in a nearby meadow with the former Witch of the Waste and Heen chasing butterflies, acting oddly his age. But it was a nice change. Sophie had given them the day off from chores she normally asked for help with—windows, sweeping, laundry, whatever—and she was in the kitchen area, sweeping.
"Got something on your mind, kid?" Calcifer asked in such a conversational tone that Sophie didn't read into his question at all before answering.
"Nothing to worry about Calcifer, just silly things," she tossed a quick smile at the fire demon and made her way upstairs, broom thumping behind her, before he could get another word in edgewise. She couldn't have been but five minutes out of the room when Markl, the Witch and Heen came barreling in. Rather, Markl barreled in after Heen and the Witch followed at a far more leisurely pace.
"Such energy," she mulled not unpleasantly and settled into her customary rocking chair as Heen sniffed around the room as he always did when he came back in from somewhere—as though he'd never been there before!
"Sophie!" Markl called, an excited tone to his voice and Sophie bent down, peering from above the stairs through the stairway railing down at him as he waved a basket of wildflowers rather, well, wildly about.
"Markl, they're wonderful," she said in appreciation, dusting her hands off on the white apron that had become a definitive part of her daily attire. Descending the stairs to kindly relieve Markl of the basket, she turned to fill a blue and white pitcher with water from the faucet. Just as she had just about finished arranging the wildflowers, a knock was heard on the door and in true Markl fashion, the young boy put on his old man guise.
"Standby," he said in his best old man voice, overly gruff with a boyish undertone, but it did the trick it seemed. Markl flicked the little notch on the door and it opened to reveal a messenger of sorts, clad in very official looking attire, gold tassels and all that jazz. He wasn't a bad looking fellow either, the Witch noted to herself in her childlike way that was ever-true to her old nature. "Um, how may I help you?" Markl asked, somewhat uncertain. This was not a familiar type of uniform and glancing both at the color of the section of the indicator on the wall and the greenery outside, apparently he had come from practically nowhere.
"Is this the residence of one Miss Sophie Hatter?" the young gentleman queried with a measured eloquence evident in his articulation.
"That would be me," Sophie stepped genially forward, bowing slightly "How can I help you?" At this point, the messenger coughed as people tend to do most often when they feel the need to act self-important (more so than to actually be self-important, as they are surely different things) and pulled out another piece of paper, rolled and tied with a scarlet ribbon that shone like silk, which it probably was.
"One, Sophie Hatter is cordially invited to the Prince's Autumnal Gathering. Attire is formal and there is no fee. An escort or guest is allowed, but only one and the rest of the information including where and when is enclosed here," upon which the messenger gave a grand sweep of his hand, producing an antique-white envelope with a gold seal and red wax emblem in its center in the simple silhouette of a crown. Thrown off guard, Sophie somewhat robotically accepted the invitation and bowed again to the young man. She gathered her wits as Markl was showing him out just in time to get her feet to respond to her and dash to stop him before he was gone completely.
"Wait, I'm sorry, are you certain this is not an invitation for Master Howl?" she asked almost urgently, not even noticing her addition of the severe formality before Howl's name or that said wizard had been standing for some time at the midpoint on the staircase.
"I am certain, Miss Sophie. Attendance is all but required, I should tell you, and if you cannot come, please send word. Good day, Miss Sophie," the messenger tipped his hat and politely closed the door behind him, leaving a gaping Sophie and an over-enthused Markl and Heen dancing around her. The old Witch only smiled that old, somewhat sedate smile of hers, hands folded restfully on her lap.
"I, I don't understand," Sophie said to herself, staring at the envelope and running her fingers lightly over the seal.
"Something the matter, Sophie?" Howl's voice carried out before him as he came down all the way, a smile on his face that did not entirely meet his eyes.
"Uh, no, it's just, well, I..." Sophie fumbled desperately for her words and could not find them, settling for simply thrusting the invitation into Howl's hands and crossing her arms across her chest, as though to hold in her perplexity.
"Seems you're being quite honored," Howl said after smoothly splitting the envelope open on its seam, scanning the invite. "His Majesty still thinks very fondly of you," Howl added. "Perhaps I should not have this. It is more personal than your usual royal summons," and he returned said papers to a still somewhat stunned Sophie. Running his fingers through his hair very, very absently so as to not relay his perturbed state, Howl excused himself to his rooms and ascended the stairs once again.
"What's it say?" Markl asked, beaming and the old Witch smiled a little wider.
"Seems her true love has come back to claim what isn't his," the old woman remarked airily and Markl, confused just sat on the end of one of the benches at the table, waiting, Heen wheezing at his feet periodically.
-----------------------
Dearest Sophie,
I am dreadfully sorry it has taken me so long to get things here in order. Stopping a war isn't as easy as I'd hoped! Still, this will be the first celebration since the dreadful wartime's end and I would be delighted if you would come. Oh, I'm being rude. I forget myself. To think, I'm a prince! I must thank you, my dear Sophie. If not for your constant kindness, I'd still be stuck in some bush in the foothills, your least favorite vegetable for the rest of time (or at least until something that did like Turnips came along!) I am glad to have shared in your adventures and to have been able to come home to put an end to this senseless war we had going on. I meant what I said though, when I told you that one can always be certain of hearts changing, and so, here I am in my palace. Okay, not exactly what I'd planned, not the romantic rogue sweeping you off to some faraway place from your abode, or whatnot. I'm afraid my responsibilities keep me from such lovely spontaneity. However, this Autumnal Gathering, or ball if you will, it is a wonderful opportunity for me to get to see you again. I do so hope you will come. It has been too long. And don't mind the formal address that came along with this invite. You may bring anyone you please, any number. Markl, even Heen if you like. Or Howl, if he is so inclined.
Please come Sophie. I miss you very much.
Love and thanks,
Your Prince-----------------------
Sophie did not wonder that Howl had retreated into his own keeping. She could feel the hurt and doubt creeping out from his rooms down stairs and straight into her own heart and shaking her head at him—though he was not right there with her—she set the invite on the table and went to him.
Knock, knock.
No answer.
Knock, knock.
Still no answer.
"Howl?" she spoke more to the door than through it and when she still received no answer, she ventured to open the door and step inside, closing it almost silently behind her. "Howl?" still nothing. And then a hand spun her around and had her pinned against the door. Sophie caught her breath. There he was, standing very, very close to her, eyes burning into hers in such a state of smoldering that she shuddered involuntarily. He didn't seem to notice.
"Are you going?" he asked, sounding strangely frantic. She tried to move him slightly but he would not be moved.
"Going? Howl, I—" she began, but could not finish as he closed the distance between them and kissed her like he would never get the chance again, not in small part because he feared there might be some truth in that. A slight moan escaped her lips and his kiss became even more urgent, asking, seeking...and Howl caught himself suddenly, pulling back.
"Are you going?" the question still stood, it seemed and Sophie, flustered from his assault on her mouth opened it, but nothing came out for a few moments and she then just closed her eyes for a moment, breathed, exhaled and paused, opening her eyes again to a very, very different Howl than she was used to. This Howl was more like the boy, more scared, more...lost even.
"I am," she began and Howl's head bent a little, his bangs falling into his eyes, almost acting as a shield to her and she frowned, tilting and turning his face with her hand back to her. "But, you are coming with me," she continued, "and Markl and old Witch and even Heen, we're all going." He stared at her for a moment, not really comprehending what she meant. Sophie suppressed a sigh. Heart back and maturing by the day or not, Howl could be more clueless than she sometimes and she did the only thing she was positive would settle him, even for the moment. Framing his face delicately with her hands, Sophie smiled up at him and drew him to her, closer if possible, kissing him with as much fervor as her heart could allow at that moment.
Almost Howl didn't respond but instances later he seemed to come back to himself, and back to her. Leaning in further, his arms still in a position that had her pinned to the door his arms began sliding more flatly against the door, nearly crushing her to him. Lost in a mixture of the want that had been plaguing him lately and an inherent part of his ego that still existed in him, the part that said he needed to claim her, Howl devoured her in just the way Sophie had heard girls squeal about back when she was still in the hat shop, distant from the magic and from, well, from life itself really. His lips nibbled mercilessly at her throat and her sigh became more of a moan that did nothing but encourage him, his hands tracing the contours of her sides almost subconsciously.
"I love you, Sophie Hatter," he confessed, breath somewhat ragged from their interaction. Arms now looped comfortably around his neck, her forehead resting against his, Sophie knew this was not the first time he had said he loved her, but felt it was the first time, somehow.
"I know," she said, a glimmer of a smile dancing on her lips, "And I love you, Howl, who swallowed a falling star."
Across the foothills, through and into the middle of the city, a young Prince sat brooding at a window as it rained and rained and rained, pattering against the pane. His well groomed blond locks were less curled now, falling straighter and it had been cut much shorter, all of it no longer than his longest bangs. Gold coins sat stacked neatly on a table at the end of the room and velvet red carpeting combined with the refined molding and gilded furniture for a truly royal setting, but despite the grandeur, said Prince sat, still brooding. His right hand clenched a very crumpled piece of paper and his left cradled his face. He was the picture of defeat without a fight.
"Something wrong, my Prince?" a voice too silky to be trusted asked without any ounce of real concern filtered across to his ears and he flinched visibly.
"You would know, wouldn't you?" he stated more than asked but still it had that lilt that gave it that solid question mark at the end, exhaling deeply and crossing his arms firmly.
"Now, now Prince, don't sulk like that. You'll get what you want no matter how this works out. Mmm, the Autumnal Gathering, convenient that you have one every year, isn't it? Not suspicious at all," the voice reasoned and he shook his head fiercely, a hard glint in his usually kind eyes.
"NO! That...this is not what I want…" he put his head in his hands again, "but I have no choice."
"That's right, Prince," the voice answered with unhidden malice and a very finely sculpted face appeared to his right, ruby lips painted to perfection and eyes as grey as rain. Long tapered fingers with well painted nails that matched the hue of her lips tapped the top of his chair lightly and she sighed with a hint of drama. "Don't sulk, my Prince. It does not become you at all."
The Prince shoved the chair away as he stood up, aiming to hit her with it even a little but he knew the outcome already. Her image simply went transparent and it went right through her before she completely rematerialized into solid form, a silent, sinister laugh lacing her mouth. One more look of utter disgust and he retreated into his private chamber, the one place she could not go, and sat at his own window, chin resting on his hands in a pondering position so severe, he could have been made of stone.
And still, it rained.
Um...so, what did you think? Reviews please. I've no idea what I'm doing. Frankly poetry is my thing usually and never fanfiction, but I adored this movie with all my soul. I know the characters aren't quite up to par but I'm not Miyazaki, so forgive my artistic license please... um...yes.
Um, thank you for reading, let me know if I should keep going or whatnot!
Sincerely,
-sofi (that's MY spelling, since it is my name, haha...course, when Howl's concerned I'd much rather be 'Sophie' from the movie! Ah, to dream.)
oh, p.s. I obviously didn't invent the characters or previous storyline or whatever, sorry I forgot this disclaimer at the beginning. I've seen them on other fics I've read though, so this is mine!