;;Disclaimer// I do not own Howl's Moving Castle, merely borrowing its characters for my own selfish purposes.

;;Summary// When he didn't show up for their wedding day, she was disappointed, but not at all surprised. Five years later, in a cruel twist of fate, they see each other again, and Sophie struggles to hold together the pieces of the fragile life she's built, not only for her, but also for her child – their child.

;;Warnings// Alternate Universe – this is a contemporary fanfic.

Ratings subject to change.

Great amounts of drama in future chapters.

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Stardust

by DaReChRa

Prologue

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"Oh, Sophie, dearest, but you look absolutely stunning!"

Fannie, who was, by then, heaving in great lungfuls of air and sobbing hysterically, dabbing at her pretty face with a small handkerchief and trying vainly to abate the continuous onslaught running down her cheeks, took another look at her daughter and proceeded to burst into a fresh set of tears. The younger woman, in all her glowing glory, tentatively patted her back in an effort to calm the seemingly miserable female down. Heaven knows to what extent Fannie can go in her spontaneous mood swings.

"Now, now, mother, we'll still be seeing each other every day." Or at least once a week, Sophie added as an afterthought, but was careful not to voice it out loud for fear of how Fannie would react.

Sophie herself had to squash down the overwhelming urge to let her stomach get the best of her and allow it to return her supper (she didn't even try eating breakfast – that would've only resulted in a mad dash for the bathroom) to the outside world. They were mere minutes away from the church in which the marriage ceremony was to be held, and she was seriously considering asking the driver to just pull over and leave her right here, here on the corner of Burke Drive and Bourbon Avenue.

"- and you won't be able to remind me to take my medicine every night, or make Martha and Lettie see reason when they get into their disputes, or –" Fannie paused in the middle of what promised to be a long tirade and brightened visibly, not looking at all like she had just cried a river. "Oh! Why, look, darling, we're here!"

As soon as the words were out of Fannie's mouth, the rented limousine slowed to a halt in front of a grand, wooden building whose few marble steps led to a set of doors that were thrown open in welcome, framed by white roses and billowy silk cloths. Sophie took in a sharp breath, ignoring the faint pang of something she couldn't name, didn't want to name, and didn't allow herself to think any more. There was a tiny pit of dread slowly growing in her stomach…

All she could see were the lights, for some reason. It was broad daylight, and there weren't even any electronic bulbs or anything of the sort turned on. She didn't look at the guests, didn't recognize them, and there was a certain something in their eyes that she didn't want to see.

No, no, everything's going to be fine… They're not looking at you in pity, Sophie. Everything is all right. The decorations are in place, everyone already knows in what order to go down the aisle, the priest is looking healthy today –

The music wasn't playing.

What was going on? They've already rehearsed this a hundred times. Didn't the pianist know by then that when she shows up, it was his cue to start? Or maybe he got the fever at the last minute and now they'd have to make do without the music. Yes, that must be it.

And then, Lettie was there all of a sudden, lovelier than the bride even in a simple floor-length cream dress, with her breathtaking but oddly empty smile and too-bright eyes. Sophie gripped her bouquet tighter and abruptly looked at the tinted windows, the carpet, anywhere but Lettie's face. She knew her sister like the back of her hand, and she was afraid of reading the truth in Lettie's eyes.

Oh, God, no. Please, no. It can't be true –

"Sophie, you look gorgeous – but we still have some things we have to fix here before the nuptials can start, so why don't you wait a bit in the Bridesmaid's room over there? Martha's inside. It'll only take a while, okay, honey? We'll call you out when everything's perfect." Lettie held Sophie by the elbow and led the way. Curiously enough, the route they'd taken included going outside and walking all the way around the church to a back door, which led to a small sitting room, and then through another door where Martha was present. The girl stopped what she was doing – pacing, it looked like – and instead started wringing her skirt, nervously nibbling on her lower lip.

"Oh, Sophie," Martha enveloped her sister in a tight hug, further confusing the bride and increasing the small suspicion implanted in her mind. She couldn't tell if Martha was hugging her because of a subdued kind of happiness or because of guilt and sorrow. She hoped – she hoped fervently –

"We tried calling him, Sophie, on his cell, at home –"

"Oh, Martha, no! Look what you've done," Lettie interrupted before she could get any further. "Now, Sophie, darling, ignore her. I'm sure he's on his way here. Must have had one too many drinks last night, you know how that man is," she laughed, a glorious, tinkling sound, but Sophie could not say that she understood what was going on anymore. The room was spinning – why was the room spinning? – and there was a loud drumming in her ears – that must be my heart. "He'll be here. He'll be here," Lettie chanted, although who exactly she was trying to convince, Sophie was not quite sure.

-

Nine hours after the supposed start of the wedding found Sophie sitting down on the front steps of the still-gaily-adorned church, her posy of flowers, long ago forgotten, lying glumly beside her. She couldn't care any less for the mud that she was sitting on or that the wind had ruined the elaborate design of her hair that Fannie and Martha had taken three painstakingly long hours to complete. In the back of her mind, a voice said that it was going to rain soon, come back inside, Sophie.

But she really didn't give a damn for the rain or the possibility that she'll get sick out here waiting for someone who was not – someone who will never come. Why, oh, why do you insist on breaking your heart, and God, it just hurts. Someone, please make it stop. She couldn't think of what else she was going to do tomorrow, is there even a point in living anymore? Find a job, she supposed. But for who? She didn't want the money. It would be for her family, she supposed. But when is she going to start doing things for herself? When she deserved it, she supposed. Because she must've done something heinous in a past life for the Gods to make her suffer like this.

She didn't cry yet, felt no need to cry at all. Besides, the tears wouldn't come, even as Sophie asked herself for the umpteenth time that day, Why aren't you crying, silly girl? It was not because she wasn't regretful – oh, she loves him so much – or because she was numb inside – goodness knows her heart was slowly dying, only to be healed by the slightest sign that hinted at his coming, maybe he was just really late, only to be broken again when it turned out that it wasn't him, after all.

Even through the haze of pain, Sophie thought that this wasn't very uncharacteristic of him at all. He was afraid of a lot of things, and she should've known that commitment would be on the very top of his list. Oh, she should've expected – she never should've accepted his proposal in the first place. But she thought – 'hoped' would be a more fitting word, actually – she hoped that she could change him, that she could make him happy, because living a life of constantly running away was so depressing to Sophie. She thought that he was running away from things that would make him happy because he didn't think he deserved being happy – maybe that was what he was doing right now, with all this not-attending-his-wedding business.

Or maybe she was giving herself too much credit. Who was she to assume that she knew him well enough to read his mind? Maybe he simply decided he didn't want her anymore, didn't love her anymore, maybe he simply decided that he never loved her at all. Oh, but that last thought was simply too hurtful to dwell on anymore. Where are you now? Sophie had a habit of assuming many, many things. Now, she assumed that everything – every single little thing – was her fault. She never deserved him, anyway – he was so beautiful – and it was common knowledge that plain, dull girls like her did not have any right to look at beautiful people, let alone hope for their love.

The thing that hurt the most was that she had already planned out her whole life thinking that he would always be by her side. She saw herself finally achieving her dream of building a quaint flower shop on the corner of Burke and Bourbon, and he would be there on the first day, congratulating her with one of his kisses that always seemed to turn her into a puddle of mush. She saw herself giving birth to his child, shrieking obscenities and death threats at him for getting her pregnant when she was at fault too (but it was always fun to yell at him, she thought with a small, broken smile) and squeezing his hand lethally while he pecked her soothingly on the forehead, on the nose, on the eyelids – everywhere. She saw herself growing old with him, making his coffee just the way he liked it (no sugar, one tablespoon of Coffee-mate's French Vanilla coffee creamer) because he would be too sleepy in the morning; she envisioned herself dying on the inside, even though she was in perfect health, when he died of old age, since it was only proper that he die first because he was older.

None of this was possible now, because she would never see him again. She would go far, far away, away from this little, unknown town in Wales, away from the oh-so-painful memories, away from him. Sophie wanted so much to forget, because right now, the ache of losing him and the thought of never being able to hold him again was beating the yearning to find him and beg him to love her again by a landslide. She was afraid of being shattered again, anyway, if she did the latter. She didn't think she could handle any more of the hurt. It was too much, too much for the once-fiery Sophie. She was broken, and it was nobody's fault but hers.

A faint rustle and a light sound of a footstep told Sophie that someone had sat down beside her, but she didn't even bother to turn her head and find out who it was, because did it really matter? She could really make do without the pity that was sure to be in that person's eyes. Didn't they understand that she was already drowning in her own self-deprecation? What else did they want from her? Oh, she had already lost so much today.

"Sophie," Sophie allowed herself to be surprised, but just a little, when she heard Megan's voice. The two of them weren't really on very good terms with each other, and Sophie wondered what she has come here for. To gloat? To tell her 'I told you so'? Sophie couldn't say that she blamed the older woman; a small, almost-nonexistent part of her wished that she had listened to his sister. She should've acknowledged the fact that Megan knew him more than anybody else did. But, then again, she highly doubted if she would trade even a minute of her time with him for anything else in the world.

Sophie didn't hate Megan. She didn't dislike her, either, not even just a little bit. But looking back at their past interactions, she had to admit that she admired her for being able to instill such a great fear into her younger brother, and Sophie was slightly jealous that someone actually had the power to intimidate him as much as Megan did. Sophie was also jealous because Megan and her family was the only proof that he actually fulfilled his responsibilities - albeit grudgingly, most of the time. But, most of all, she was jealous, to a most heartrending degree, because he would never leave them permanently. Sure, he avoided having to see Megan and swore that she was evil, but at the end of the day, when all was said and done, he would still come back to them anyway, if only to tease Neil and put Mari to sleep. Thinking of Megan's children only succeeded to add to the throbbing ache in her chest because they had already earned a place in her heart, but she had decided that in order to successfully forget him, she'd have to cut off any and all connections he had with her.

"I'm sorry, Sophie. I really, really am. When I see that incorrigible man I am going to give him the most excruciating verbal beating he's ever had in his life, and I'll bring him back to you, Sophie. Don't you worry, because I know that he loves you and you really are the best thing that's ever happened to him, and that man has never once in his life known what was good for him, anyway –"

"Please," Sophie whispered in a cracking voice, "I-I don't want to talk about him." The redhead was grateful – truly, sincerely grateful – for Megan's support. Earlier that day, it was her who had acted indignant and furious in Sophie's stead, shouting at the guests to stay where they were and insisting that the show will go on, while Sophie was busy wallowing in her grief and staring dazedly into empty space. And it was not because – of this Sophie was confident – it was not because Megan was scared of gaining a tarnished reputation for having an ill-mannered sibling. Sophie had sensed the honest compassion and pure wretchedness that Megan felt.

"Give him another chance, Sophie. Please, just one last chance. He doesn't realize how much he's losing when he didn't attend today. You're the one woman that he's ever truly loved – I know this, I've watched him grow his entire life – and we have to make him understand. Without you, he can never truly be happy again, I know it. There have been many times when Howell has been lost, he just needs a little nudge to go in the right direction, and he never was good with sorting his own feelings out. You just have to help him, you're the only one capable, Sophie."

Sophie wanted to scream at Megan, to tell her to shut up, to slap her, anything to make her stop. The prospect of being able to look at this on a brighter note didn't appeal at all to Sophie, and she's had just about enough of hoping only to get her hopes dashed away in the past hours. She wanted so much to believe in Megan's words, to dream once again of raising children and spending her life with him, but she knew now that Sophie Hatter was never destined for happiness. So she might as well just stop fantasizing now for the greater good, and also for her sake, because Sophie Hatter could only take so much. It was such a stupid idea, to give him another chance, because she was sure he'd only laugh at her and tell her 'Don't call us, we'll call you,' and then slam a door in her face. Sophie asked herself if she had misjudged Megan and praised her too highly when she said that Megan knew him more than anyone else. Clearly, Megan didn't know that, now that he had run away from her, he won't ever take her back into his arms, won't ever look back.

But instead of lashing out, she spoke in a quiet, monotonous voice thick with unintentional coldness, "Leave. Please leave me alone." A gust of frosty wind blew across the landscape, further proof of an impending shower, and Sophie shivered without even being conscious of the action, although she was quite sure it was not from the chill. She hugged herself tightly, desperately, and bit her lip to stifle a choke that threatened to escape her quivering mouth. When she dared glance to her right, she found out that she was alone. Alone again. I suppose I'd better get used to it.

Sighing wistfully, she leaned back, supporting herself by planting her palms firmly on the ground behind her, and stared up at the sky, with its different hues of orange, red, yellow, and even faint blues. "Pitter, patter," she softly murmured, closing her eyes as she welcomed the icy bitterness of the drops that began to fall from the sky, a strong, unyielding rain that promised to drench any mortal that had the nerve to even think that they could best it. Bits of ginger hair clung to her face and she felt the liquid soak through her clothes and continue to her skin in a matter of minutes. To think that the sky had been a wonderful display of colors just a while ago. Now it was a dreary, sorrowful gray that comforted Sophie in a way any other person couldn't have. She'd never thought the rain could be such a wonderful companion.

-

"I love you."

He spares her a glance over his bare, sinewy shoulder. They had just made love for the first – and only – time before the wedding.

She spots the almost imperceptible spark of fear in his blank, green eyes and sighs, brushing back a wayward strand of hair from her forehead. She tries to smile reassuringly. It turns out to be more of a grimace than anything else.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything back. I don't want to ask for things that you're not ready to give. I… I just wanted to tell you that," she guarantees him.

He is too relieved to see through her lie. In truth, she had hoped that she would finally hear those three words from his mouth, too. They say that actions speak louder than words, and he has already proven himself in that department, but a selfish part of her needed his words to cling on to, because sometimes she just isn't certain anymore.

She turns away from him, clutching the silk of his sheets to herself in an act of modesty, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. As a wave of his scent washes over her, sandalwood and something else decidedly masculine that she could not define, she presses her lips together to stop a sob that overtakes her suddenly-dry throat.

He plants his hand on her shoulder and coaxes her to face him, and she looks at the space behind him to avoid his probing gaze. She is sure she will break down if she doesn't.

When she feels his soft fingertips caressing the line where her jaw and neck met, she whimpers against her will and curls up into a ball instinctively, burying her face in her palms.

He freezes for a long moment before tightening his grip, taking her fully into his arms to draw her closer to his chest, tracing exquisite patterns on the small of her back.

"What is it, cariad? What's wrong?" he whispers, his breath fluttering over the sensitive shell of her ear, and she shivers. Although his voice is tender, she makes out a demanding note that promised an unpleasant fate to whoever had caused her tears. Oh, but you know him too well, she chides him, but doesn't actually say it out loud, the cause of my distress is right here, in front of me.

"I'm afraid," she finally manages. He starts to stroke her hair without realizing it, and as she looks up at him hesitantly, she sees that his jaw has tightened and there was something dangerous gleaming in his eyes.

"There is no need for that, sweeting. I'll protect you from every evil in this world."

She opens her mouth to say 'I love you' again, but abruptly closes it, only too aware that if she did so, it would only give him another opportunity to break her heart with his silence or attempts at changing the subject.

I love you, Howl. I love you, I love you, I love you, she comforts herself with telling him in her mind, where he would not hear her.

-

Sophie cursed her treacherous brain for reminding her of the certain memory, then smiled bitterly. How ironic that you should be the one to introduce me with the greatest evil of all when you promised to protect me – heartbreak. It's only fitting, though. You never were the kind of person who would be considered for a medal of honesty. Finally, she let the crystalline tears fall from her eyes, her only consolation the fact that no one would be able to tell she was weeping because of the rain.

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;;Author's Note// Hrm. So there you go. My attempt at HowlSophie. I do believe this is a first in the Howl/Sophie writing community, to write an Alternate Universe set in modern times. I was toying with the idea in my brain for a couple of days and then said, What the heck, why don't I give it a try? And thus Stardust was born. My goal is to have a total of twenty to twenty-five chapters, with at least 4ooo words apiece, except for the Prologue and Epilogue, since those are generally shorter than normal chapters. I don't have a certain time limit, because that'll just make me not write.

…Well, um, I have nothing much to say.

But I do have a question for YOU! Yes, YOU! So, Sophie starts out as twenty-two, in this Prologue, but then she shifts to twenty-seven because next chapter will fast forward to five years ahead. Since Howl is approximately nine years older, should I make him thirty-one in the Prologue, and then thirty-six next chapter? Would you rather I go by the book and make the age difference nine years, or lower it down to two or three years? Personally, I prefer going with the book because… I don't know, because it's the real thing, but then again, a thirty-six year old Howl (although I'm sure he'll still be as angelic-looking as ever; I doubt there'll even be a single wrinkle in sight)? So… feedback on that little predicament will be appreciated :D.

And that's a wrap. Thank you for reading the twisted creations of my demented mind.