Howl's Moving Castle - State With Kings

Chapter 7: In Which There Is Much Righteous Violence

Chapter 8: In Which There Is Much Righteous Violence

The street was muddy and the evening crowd was large, but Sophie Hatter did not condescend to care. She merely hiked up her skirts, a practice which Fanny had always found undignified, and made her way up the street, past small cars and trucks that were honking loudly. How loudly, Sophie could not guess because she was not actually hearing any of it. The only purpose that was driving her at the moment was getting back to the castle and wringing the resident wizard's delicate white neck.

Sophie could only fume and speculate over exactly what had occurred between them in that little palace room a mere half hour ago. All the horrible things that had been said...well, that had been implied anyways. Sophie had never known Howl Jenkins to be a liar per se, but as soon as she was in sight of him she hoped for a sound denial of everything that he had said concerning the prince and her. He couldn't have meant that he really wanted her to marry the Prince. He couldn't...

Sophie's brow furrowed deeper as she thought of the Prince. What right did he have to think of her as his own? No one had a right to Sophie Hatter, that was for sure. The only man who had come close to making her his had run away from her and was doing Merlin knows what.

Sophie reached the end of the street and took a quick turn around the corner into a dark, empty alleyway between two white washed buildings. Sophie glanced up at the buildings thoughtfully. She had met Howl in an alleyway and wouldn't it be fitting if she found him in one now? Fitting, but not likely; Howl's last words to her were that he was going home. At least he hadn't said "my home". That division between them really would have cut her to the core.

A sudden thought struck Sophie, turning her body cold in silent realization. Maybe Howl never had any future intentions towards her at all. This thought had entered her mind before, but she had always done her best to ignore it or to excuse it out of existence. But now the thought clung to her cruelly, making her stop in her tracks and look down at her hands. As if to calm herself down, Sophie began to rub her hands together. Her hands...the same hands that had once held Howl's, and before Howl, only Lettie's. Sophie closed her eyes to clear her vision that was steadily growing foggy under the weight of unshed tears. Sophie Hatter did not cry often, but the frustration of the whole day was beginning to take a toll on her. The castle couldn't be far now, but what would she do when she got there?

Markl glared at the display of royal pageantry that dared to show itself outside of his home. He was confused, hungry, and tired, although he would usually never announce that fact, as it was sure to send him on a one way trip to his room. Now, though, sleep seemed unlikely.

A well dressed man hopped down from the front of the carriage where he had been driving and opened the side door with a smart pop. Markl glared with an extra amount of hatred as he watched the Prince climb down from his riding box, almost unable to control the rage inside of him. He and the Witch had walked blocks and blocks to the castle, both ways! And yet here the Prince drove up to the castle as leisurely as could be. Markl was still unsure of all that had gone on since his family had entered the palace, but he was sure that the Prince had caused all the chaos that was plaguing his household. If it were not for the anxious expression on the Prince's face, Markl would have charged on his velvet clad figure right then and there.

The Prince walked towards the small boy, oblivious of any malicious intent. He paused in front of him, looking down at Markl with a gaze that was both well-intentioned and condescending. Markl stared back at the Prince critically. "Boy," the Prince began with an unsure tone to his voice, as if he were aware how awkward it was that he could not recall Markl's name. "Is Sophie at home?" Markl quickly opened his mouth and then just as promptly closed it again. The words that had almost reached the boy's lips were ones that Sophie would have surely reprimanded him for if she were there to hear them. Markl let out a long breath and glanced over at the Witch. The old woman had situated herself on the doorstep and by the way she nodded her head, looked as though she would soon be asleep. Markl envied her calm. Finally compelling the necessary composure to his features, Markl answered the Prince with a strong, "no, sir."