Runaway Fiancés | ONC 2023 (Complete)

One - Catalina

Everything is abuzz with news of the impending betrothal of the Duke of Valrocio. Which is good for me, because I'm going to need a lot of things to go right if this is going to work.

As in everything is going to have to go right. A single thing going wrong and everything gets even worse. But I'm out of choices. And I'm out of time, because my own fiancé is sitting in my mother's parlour awaiting his bride or betrothed or whatever my father has promised him.

It's not even the fact that he's three times my age that irritates me. No, I could deal with that if he had even a droplet of goodness and care for me in his tiny evil body.

Mamá would chastise me if she could hear my thoughts. Or see my face. I've never excelled at disguising my emotions.

Everything about my attire says I'm happy, wealthy, and ready to step into married life. Mama made sure of that. But everything inside says none of those things. So I'm going to get in the coach.

And it's going to take me wherever it wants. That's how it works. One fare and one ride to wherever you need to be.

The only public coach which will not immediately alert my father and return me home. So I don't have much choice.

I really hope the rumours aren't true, but, again, no choice. If the rumours are true I hope what it thinks I need is really far away from here. Because that's what I really need: to be as far away from my father as possible.

A small crash from downstairs alerts me of my escape window. Bless my maid for being willing to risk herself for me. If I ever get out of this, I will come back for her.

Shaking, and carrying nothing more than a small bag and my shoes, I slip through my door and down the wooden hallway of my father's house. Carefully, silently, I push through the door to the servant's stairs and race down as quickly as my skirts will allow.

Thinking about it now, I probably should have asked Isa for a maid's uniform as well. I'm about as suspicious as someone can get in this betrothal get up. My mother's choice of peineta has my mantilla up twice as high as my head, like a flag shouting 'here I am!' at everyone who passes by.

But there's no time, the jingle of the bells on mythical coach grow louder and faster.

"Hurry!" Isa calls from the bottom of the stairs, head hung halfway out the kitchen door. "It's approaching."

I fly down the rest of the stairs and right out the door, with nothing but a whispered thank you to my saviour and friend.

"Take me to—" I start, before remembering the rules.

"You will go where you are needed," the driver says, tipping his hat in a small bow.

And then we're off, circling through the streets of Seville and away from my father.

Step one: successful. Now I just have to get as far away from here as possible.

~ * ~ * ~

"Here we are, Señorita," the man says, jerking me awake.

"Where are we?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It feels like I've barely been asleep at all. "I didn't think I'd sleep with so much anxiety," I add, more for myself than anyone else.

"Where you need to be," he answers simply. "No charge."

"No. No charge. Okay, thank you." I pick up my bag and accept his offered hand to step out of the coach.

I don't know where I am, still trying to get my bearings from my half-asleep brain.

And then the coach drives off and suddenly I can see it clear as day. I'm at the train station not even three miles from my home.