Disclaimer: We do not own any character or anything about the Ever After movie.
Authors' note: We wrote this chapter because in the movie we don't see Henri dealing with Danielle's betrayal. How did he change his mind?

1 – Regrets aka Ramblings of a Troubled Prince

The masque had been interrupted by the Baroness de Ghent's venomous outburst and belittlement of her stepdaughter Danielle, which caught the Court by surprise.

"Bow before Royalty, you insolent fraud!" The baroness yelled, determined to humiliate her stepdaughter in front of the Prince and the whole Court.

The Prince's first reaction was disbelief. Nicole? Was this the woman he loved? Who was this 'Danielle'?

"My God, it can't be true!" he exclaimed with tears in his eyes. His heart seemed to stop for a moment as his world came crashing down at the realization that he had been deceived.

His second reaction was explosive: "You…you are just like them!" He said looking at Danielle disdainfully.

Danielle tried to explain, but the Prince refused to hear her, and turned his back on her.

The baroness smiled, satisfied with the Prince's reaction. The appearance of her stepdaughter at the Masque had surprised her –when she saw Danielle walking hand in hand with Prince Henri, her heart burned with a sense of injustice. It should have been her daughter Marguerite; she should have been the one to be chosen by the Prince!

'Who does this lowly stepchild think she is to steal the heart of Prince Henri?' the baroness told herself displaying the depth of her hatred for the forlorn stepchild. 'How dare she even raise herself above the ashes she sleeps in to entice him away from my daughter?'

After witnessing the shameful scene, the courtiers were divided —some sympathized with the Prince; he had been painfully deceived and embarrassed; yet others felt sorry for the girl who had been publicly humiliated. But one thing was for sure, it was a terribly gripping ball and surely there was more to come, so much to see, hear and gossip about.

The Queen felt mortified with Prince Henri's behavior—'he must know that this most distasteful public display of anger is completely inappropriate.' Knowing her son, the Queen suspected that there was more to this story.

She knew Henri had been spending time with this girl over the last week, and he was visibly in love with her. He had been very distraught when he learned that she was engaged to a Belgian. Queen Marie was not shocked when the girl called her son by his Christian name; but she gasped at Henri's reaction. The Queen took pause because his behavior reminded her of the King and his somewhat arrogant attitude when he was younger and his responsibilities as new King of a powerful country weighed heavy upon him.

The courtiers began to maneuver, a number of them prepared to leave, dawning their cloaks and calling upon the King's stable boys to fetch their horsemen and carriages. Others continued to enjoy the party, regrouping into numerous cells and factions— the ones who hated the baroness; those who still hoped to enchant the Prince for themselves or their daughters; those who enjoyed seeing members of the Royal family embarrassed; and those who loved a fascinatingly irreverent intrigue.

The blazing glare of the fireworks and the thunderous explosion of colors illuminated the night. The smell of roasted food hung in the air. The music resumed, and a maze of dancers took to the floor as if nothing had happened. The Prince was livid and disgusted with the scene on the ballroom floor: the courtiers finding their place in the political fallout of his behavior, the mothers and daughters gossiping, even giggling, and his own parents gliding off the floor and turning their backs on him. He knew they were angry, possibly embarrassed and most likely, his father was gloating at his son's gullibility. His mother might have something kind to say to him, but he wasn't looking for her to stand by his side.

Henri dashed out of the hall engulfed by his own demons. He was furious at the woman who he thought he knew, and at the baroness who claimed that Nicole, or rather 'Danielle' as the baroness called her, was a servant.

He stopped in his tracks and made a sour face. Is she a servant? It is not possible. I would have known. She was so refined, so well read, and she spoke as if educated by the best tutors. And even now she neither looks nor behaves like a servant.

"What a mess this is," he said aloud to no one.

He kept mumbling to himself. She threw apples at me; how dare she! And then she lied to me...after I treated her as a lady. I will punish her and make her know what it means to be treated as a real servant. I am a Prince and she is just a low-bred nobody, a servant! He hesitated. But she is so eloquent! She has read Thomas More; her discourse was so intellectual, so enlightened. What kind of servant reads political philosophy? I felt so happy in her presence, I felt complete. I felt love! How dare she inspire within me such deep feelings!

"This must be a lie. But what part?" He was mumbling aloud. "The baroness stripped the decorations from her gown in front of the whole Court; she would never do that unless it was true. But is the baroness truthful? Just yesterday she told my mother that 'Nicole' had left, engaged to a Belgian. That was a lie." He halted and his temper began to wane.

'Nicole' had not denied the accusations of the baroness either and this girl's many contradictions fascinated him. If she was, as the baroness asserted, a servant, she did not deserve his regard, for he could not degrade himself by pursing a lowly servant. A servant who lied to him, the Crown Prince! "How insolent and daring she must be!" He continued questioning himself, his mental anguish pulling him in all directions. Is she a liar? She helped me with the gypsies, she climbed the trees and chose to save me and carry me from danger rather than feed her own vanity. At least I owed her that...

His tortured mind remembered more gentle aspects of their time together: she had returned his kiss at the gypsy camp. He sighed, thinking about her soft lips, her glorious smile. It all had been so lovely! He stood still for a minute. "Did she really lie to me? Am I that clumsy that I cannot distinguish between a courtier and a servant? Why did she pretend to be a comtesse?" He began to get agitated again, and again his anger blossomed.

He became furious with himself for taking the bait, falling into a trap, her trap, for the whole world to witness his fall. He tore up the stairs to the battlements, slipping and falling on the smooth spots of the cold stones. After he spent much of his energy on continued outbursts he sat on the stones and bemoaned his state. He wanted to be alone and experience his depression.

He wanted to hate her. He wanted to hate himself to the fullest extent of a grand putrid scene. He was the Crown Prince of France after all, he deserved his full experience of loving the girl, then despising her for all she did to him. But he couldn't hate her. In spite of she was, he could not despise her. "But... who is she?" He felt his anger rising. "How dare she! 'How dare she makes me love her, or inspire me to build a university!" He shouted, again to no one.

Leonardo, on his way back from the manor, watched as Danielle fled the castle. Her erratic steps made her stumble and finally she fell, sending one of her slippers flying to the side. She lay in mud, stunned and weeping.

Leonardo called out and began to run to her, but he was too far away to be heard or seen. She grasped for the slipper but could not find it. The clock was striking midnight so she got up and ran.

Leonardo continued to run towards her but she had disappeared in the night. He found her slipper, picked it up and gracefully wiped the mud from its elegant frame. 'It is beautiful, like its owner,' he thought. It had been constructed with care, made out of glass and bejeweled with pearls and light colored stones; it took his breath away.

Surprised, Leonardo began to search for Henri to find out what had happened. He thought about the logic behind what he had just witnessed. 'What had made the poor child, my Angelfish, race off in tears - this is not a good sign. And where is Henri?'

He then saw Henri as he stormed from the ballroom. Apparently, something terrible had happened.

Following the path of the Prince, Leonardo climbed the stairs. He began looking in the places he thought the Prince might find solace. He finally found him sitting on the stones crammed between the battlements. 'There he is.'

"What has happened?" Leonardo asked.

Prince Henri scowled at Leonardo and blurted out. "She's a servant. A lowly servant and she deceived me. The baroness exposed her."

Leonardo stepped back, stunned and thinking to himself, 'he is an intelligent and good-hearted young man, but so spoiled and arrogant he cannot see beyond his privileged world.'

"What have you done?" Leonardo demanded.

Prince Henri replied with as much venom as he could muster. "I was born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations."

"Horse shit!" Leonardo shouted in disgust.

"You are out of line, old man," Henri cautioned.

"No, you are out of line. Have you any idea of what she went through to get here tonight?" Leonardo asked. "Do you know that she tried to tell you who she was but once the stone began to roll down that hill she could not stop it?"

"She lied to me."

"She came to tell you the truth and you fed her to the wolves."

Henri bolted from the battlement floor. "What do you know, old man? You build flying machines and walk on water; yet you know nothing about life."

"I know that a life without love...is no life at all. And you will die a lonely angry man if you do not experience Love in all its wretchedness."

Henri's anger reached a boiling point. He got closer to Leonardo. "And love without trust, what of that?" He let slip from between his clenched teeth. "I am surrounded by those who would feed off me. She is just one of them."

"Can't you see it, Henri? She is your match!" Leonardo pressed, hoping the Prince could see beyond his resentment and acknowledge his true feelings.

"I am but a servant to my Crown and I have made my decision!" Henri's voice was firm and resolute. "I will not yield!" He turned and looking directly into Leonardo's eyes. "I will marry the Spanish Princess and I will be what they expect of me, nothing less!"

"Then you don't deserve her," Leonardo said sadly. Then, placing Danielle's slipper on the stonewall ledge, he left the Prince alone with his ruminations.

It had started to rain, and the sound of the falling raindrops echoed in the battlements. Within minutes a thunderstorm brought rivers of water at Henri's feet and flooded the courtyard and surrounding gardens. Henri stood there for almost an hour, looking at the glass slipper, consumed by his anger and replaying the scene of the masque over and over in his mind.

He awoke from his daze and realized that he was completely soaked. A moment of sadness overcame him. 'She looked so beautiful! Why had she lied?' He became furious again mimicking Leonardo's words in his mind, 'she is your match, Henri,' and 'you don't deserve her.'

"The nerve of the old man! She lied to me!" He snorted.

Henri picked up the slipper and retired to his room. He rang for his valet who appeared immediately and helped him to change into a dry white shirt and fine silk breeches. Once the valet left, he moved to the window and looked out upon the gardens. How long will this thunderstorm last? He gazed down for a long while at the courtyard, where he had met her and asked her for her name. 'Nicole does not exist,' he told himself. 'Her name is Danielle. Danielle de Barbarac, a deceitful servant!'

He was tired; he needed to sleep. 'Tomorrow I'll have more clarity to find the answers I need,' he said to himself as he lay in his bed.

Only, he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the image of Danielle burst into his mind as she desperately whispered, 'I can explain,' and then pleading tearfully, 'Henri please.' He didn't want to listen. How could she explain? Explain what?

He stood and picked up her glass slipper. He studied it further. 'This rather remarkable shoe cannot belong to a servant. Who is Danielle? Maybe I should go back to the Manor de Barbarac and…' Suddenly a thought entered his mind. The baroness had said her name was Danielle de Barbarac. The baroness' home was the Manor de Barbarac. So Danielle must be…'

"Oh God, the baroness is lying!" Henri realized, speaking aloud. "She lied to the Queen! She said the comtesse was engaged to a Belgian and had left France. If the baroness lied to the Queen about this, she is probably lying about Danielle as well. But why didn't Danielle deny being a servant?"

Henri felt a knot in the stomach. Something was very wrong. The baroness was lying about Danielle. But why? He should have defended her when the baroness accused her, and then let her explain. Instead, he rejected her.

He could again hear her words again; they tortured him: "I can explain,' and 'Henri please.'

I should go after her, find out the truth. But she probably hates me now, after I embarrassed her in front of the whole Court and let her run away in tears. And... what if she didn't go back to the manor? Where can I find her?

It was too late now, he could not ask for his horse to be saddled at this time. 'Will I be able to wait until morning? Where is she? Was she able to get to the manor, with this rain? What is she thinking? What is she doing now?'

"This is truly a mess." He said aloud.

He needed to calm down, think clearly. Was she a lady or just a commoner pursuing him for his crown?

'No, no, it's not true; I was the one who pursued her,' he told himself. 'Still, she really is a dishonest woman, she lied to me. She could be playing a game to ridicule me. Could I have been so blind?'

"Possibly," he said aloud.

He shook his head to remove Danielle from his mind. I should forget her and marry the Spanish Princess, a woman of my own station. With time, I could learn to love her. Yes, that is what needs to be done. I've made my decision.

He went back to his bed and tried to sleep, but he couldn't. For every time he closed his eyes an infinite sequence of images floated in his mind, images of Danielle arguing with the wagon master; laughing with him at the riverbank, arriving at the masque and standing at the top of the stairs looking like an angel. He was so enthralled...! He remembered his heart was beating so wildly he thought it would come out of his chest. Then the horrid scene, her painful pleading, her running from him in tears.

Just two days ago, when he thought she had left him for a Belgian, he had felt so disappointed! He had despised her for leaving him. He hated her and hated himself for desiring her. He constantly wondered what she was doing, what she was thinking, whom was she charming. 'Is she with her Belgian fiancé, charming him with her wonderful smile? What about me? Has she forgotten me? Is she laughing with her fiancé at my expense?' Henri tortured himself with thoughts of Danielle and her fiancé.

He tried to forget her, determined to get her out of his mind. But he couldn't, he could think of nothing but her, her shy smile, her hair, the way she wrinkled her nose when she was angry, her eyes… he tried to remember the shade of them, how they sparkled that night at the Gypsy camp. And her mouth...how he had felt completely hypnotized.

He smiled thinking about it. She had a warm intoxicating magnetism and a sweet determination that he found absolutely irresistible; and the most beautiful green eyes. 'Yes, I remember those green eyes.'

"I am lying to myself, I cannot forget her. I don't want to forget her," he said aloud.

He remembered he felt drawn to her in the most extraordinary way the minute he met her, in the courtyard. He wanted to know more about her. He admired her wit, her strong opinions, her contradictions. At the river bank, he had started teasing her to get her to react, and then he kept provoking her because he found her reactions amusing. Before he realized it, he was inexplicably in love.

And now he was obsessed with this woman who had inspired him to build a university, and who helped him find purpose. But she also turned out to be a complete stranger. A servant!

He wept aloud. "No, she cannot be a servant because…because I am in love with her." Does she love me too, or is my love for her one sided? More rambling; his thoughts wandered from one place to the next.

His memory played back crucial moments, the moment when she said, 'there is something I must tell you now,' and I said, 'whatever it is, my answer is yes.' And then I rejected her.

Sitting up, he talked to his image in the mirror. "She must have had a reason to hide her name; she likely had wanted to reveal her real name and disclose her station but I did not offer her the opportunity. This will weigh heavy not only upon my heart but most certainly my soul. I must find her and apologize. Will she accept my apology?" This uncertainty was agonizing!

He went back to bed but found himself lying fully awake, regrets making his heart heavy. It was true, she was mysterious, always running from him, but she had helped him, saved his life, and he betrayed her in front of the baroness, when she had needed him the most. He had lost her, and the realization of his loss caused him intense pain. He didn't want to confront this loss. He needed to find her, find out everything about her. But how?

"Leonardo!" He blurted.

He was sure that Leonardo knew things about her. He needed to speak to the old man and ask what he knew. He would do that first thing in the morning. "I must act. Tomorrow morning I will go to her, ask her what it was that she wanted to tell me and apologize. I cannot let her go again. I'll find the way."

And with that conviction he finally fell asleep.

The following morning Henri got up at dawn. He was worn out. Last night was hellish. He had gone through every emotion from exalted joy to anger, to frantic regrets, yet all that remained was sadness. Now, standing by his window, he was torturing himself with doubts.

It was too early for anybody to be awake. He did not call his valet to help him dress. He put on the same simple shirt and breeches, and taking his cloak he left the room. He needed to go to Leonardo. The old man was the only one who could help him clear his mind.

As he walked through the passageway to Leonardo's home, he was thinking about how sorry he was.

He regretted his actions at the masque! He was sorry, and for him, there was no greater sorrow than regret!

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