"Alright my dear, what story would you like tonight?" asked my Grandmother in a tired, yet knowing tone. I snuggled into her bosom, holding Mira, my stuffed unicorn, close to me. It was a cold winter night, and our little cottage was warm, but I still felt less chilly when I was on her lap.

"Do you even have to ask that?" I said, looking up with a happy smile.

"I suppose not. Alright, the tale of Ella Enchanted it is." She said smiling knowingly.

She then rocked me back and forth in the chair and told me the story from start to finish of Queen Ella, who had been under a curse of obedience until she broke it one day out of the love for Char, the Prince of Kyrria. It was the perfect tale; along Ella's conquests were bits of comedy, adventure, and my favorite—romance. I didn't start to appreciate the romance till I was older. But still, I wished that when I was older I could be just like her.

After a while, my Grandmother finally finished the tale. "And she and the Prince got married and are now two of the most magnificent rulers our great country has ever had."

"Grandmother…do you think I could ever be like Queen Ella?"

"Why of course! Sweet, you are already like her. You have the same spirit and mind that she did, and that alone will help you find your way into adventures." She smiled tiredly at me. "And maybe someday Leora, you can have your own fairytale. But take care love, for the greatest adventure of all is that of love, and whether you marry a Prince or a pauper, it will not matter, just so long as you love him. For, I would rather have you be rich in love and poor in money than the other way around."

That speech was forever imprinted in my memory.

"Love? EWW!!" I wrinkled my nose and snorted. "I'll never marry." My grandmother rolled her eyes jestingly.

I looked up at my Grandmother with eyes of hope. "Do you think I'll ever meet the Queen?"

She looked at me surprised. "Well…" she looked at the ceiling as if it could tell the future. She gazed down at me once again. "I don't know sweet…maybe. I believe the Baron is related to the King." She gazed down at me. "Maybe they'll visit sometime."

"Oh, Grandmother, do you really think so?" I said hopefully, clasping my hands together joyously.

"Maybe, if you're lucky." She looked around for a distraction. "Oh, Leah dear, look! The fire is almost gone; it is time for bed, we have been talking too long. It won't be good for me or for you if we are tired tomorrow."

She carried me over to our cott, and laid me gently down. I hugged Mira tight. She got on the other side and I nuzzled into her. She pulled the quilt up for warmth and I felt so safe and secure.

The Baron of Emba, Emilio Nestrato de Carpuza, was the man my grandmother worked for. He was a distant cousin of the royal family. The town was deep in the country, far from Frell or any other city; therefore, the chances of anyone visiting was highly unlikely. But I suppose my Grandmother didn't want to dash my hopes.

We lived in a cottage in the garden of the manor. My Grandmother was the gardener, and my job varied; most of the time, I was her assistant.

Lady Ursula, the mistress of the manor, didn't like me; she felt I was a distraction. But, since she had nowhere to place me and she loved my Grandmother's gardening skills, she put up with me. I was given tasks to do from day to day.

They were never hard; actually, most of the time I found them to be great fun. I usually helped my Grandmother work in the garden.

I loved the flower bed; the Baroness's garden was a perfect place to pretend. I would make up fairy tales and play with my dolls and Mira. I had three dolls, Laura, Darcy, and Marina. Laura had brown hair with pretty brown eyes; I preferred to think she looked like me. Darcy had red hair and clear blue eyes; she was lovely. Marina had black hair and blue eyes, and was usually the villain of sorts. The flowers were the lovely fairies, who always loved the main character of my story; they would give her (for it was almost always a girl) special gifts, like petals, to fight evil. The radishes would be the evil knights, trying to steal the fair lady. Sometimes I carved faces in them, to make them more evil; they always drowned in the end, because they had to go into Rivka soup.

I didn't really long for any other sort of companionship. I was happy with my dolls and my Grandmother; and Lucilla, the Baron's daughter, was a terror. I stayed away from her. Besides, I wasn't allowed in the house anyway.

Even though my lifestyle was simple, I loved it dearly and would not have changed it for the world. But I still wandered about things.

As I grew older, I began to wander about my parents. I would see other children, and they had a Mother and a Father. I didn't have either. As long as I could remember, it had just been my Grandmother and I. I didn't remember having a Mother or Father.

My first realization of this came when I was 8. I was planting some azalia's for Baroness Capuza. I heard footsteps and looked up. It was Lucilla, the Baron's daughter. She was standing above me, grimacing. She kicked the flower over and ground it into the wet soil.

Baron Carpuza's daughter, Lucilla was two years older than me, and I didn't like to play with her. She looked like a little piglet, an malicious one at that. When I was with her, I had to fight back the urge to punch her. She took such delight out of making my work harder. Since I didn't want to get into trouble, I stayed away from her as much as possible.

"Greetings," she said, her ugly gray eyes glaring at me. She was a rather ugly girl; she reminded me of a pig. She had coarse dirty-blonde hair and sneering gray eyes.

"Hello, Lucilla." I said, looking right into her eyes. Then I went back to my Azalia's, hoping she wouldn't bother me today.

"No, my name is not just Lucilla," declared Lucilla proudly. "It's Lady Lucilla Nestrato de Carpuzo; you shall address me as 'My Lady', or 'Your Beauty', or 'Lady Lucilla'".

What an imbecile. I would screw up the title just to make her mad.

"Sure, Cill. Or, um, Carpuzo. Or, your lady."

She leaned her neck towards me a bit and squinted at me with angry eyes. A demon pig. How interesting.

"I bet you think you're clever, don't you…"

Why yes, I do. More so than you anyway.

"Well, here's a question you won't be able to answer; how come you don't have a Mother and Father?"

I froze. I'd never thought about it before. But why didn't I have parents? Why did I live with my Grandmother and not them? I felt dizzy; why didn't I have a mother? Tears stung my eyes, and I looked down, pretending to be going back to my Azalia's. I refused to let Lucilla think she had won.

Lucilla smirked, satisfied. She turned and walked inside, but not before crushing another Azalia.

This egged at me for awhile, but it was a battle in me. I was so confused. Half of me wanted to know, and the other half of me was afraid to find out. One night I finally decided to ask.

I was about ten at the time. I was sitting on the cot, my legs dangling above the ground, and my Grandmother was going about blowing out all the candles in our cottage. She sat down on the edge of the cott.

"Lay down, Leah. It's time for bed."

"What about my story?"

"Yes, yes, I'll get to that. Lay down first."

I lied down. She sat on the edge of the bed and turned to me. "Alright, what do you want to hear?" She asked, sounding worn.

I paused. "I want to know about my parents."

Silence. A quiet tension filled the air. I wandered why she wasn't answering.

I looked at her; her clear blue eyes were watering and clouded---she seemed to be thinking.

It was completely random, but I thought at that moment how pretty my Grandmother looked; her silvering hair pulled back into a bun with some curly wisps of bangs, her pretty blue eyes staring out into the distance, her face creased gently with time. She must have been pretty when she was younger. Now, she was pretty in a wise sort of way.

I felt awkward. I needed to say something. "I'm sorry Grandmother---you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's just, it's been egging at me for quite a while…"

She turned towards me, her face glowing softly in the candlelight. "Do you really want to know?" she asked quietly, her tone mild but serious at the same time.

I gulped. Did I really want to know? For all I knew, my parents could have been thieves! Anything was possible at this point. Grandmother caught me in mid-thought. I had a feeling that it was something big for my Grandmother to be that tense.

She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I will tell you when you are older, Leah. Now to bed with you. You need your rest."

"But, Grandmother, why won't you tell me? I'm old enough to know!" She shot me a look. "I AM! I won't tell anyone I promise."

She smiled, but it seemed fake. "That's not what I'm worried about dear." Her smile faded. "Now go to sleep. NOW."

I stuck my lip out in a pout. Grandmother bent over to kiss me, but I turned my face away from her. She sighed and lied down. I felt bad, but I deserved to know! It wasn't right that I didn't know anything about my parents.

I didn't speak to my Grandmother at all for the next three days. I was too upset. I eventually forgave her, but my hunger for knowing about my parents stuck with me. I still wandered.

By the time I was twelve, I had become passionate about finding out about my roots. My Grandmother refused to tell me until I turned thirteen. Whenever she was out of the cottage, I would root around looking for evidence about my parents. I found nothing.

I gave up eventually and decided I could just wait till my thirteenth birthday. It wasn't as though I would have to wait forever.