She was a blessing to their family. They had been worried about finding an heir to the kingdom, and when the news arrived that the Queen was pregnant, there was a rejoicing across the land. There was a time, however, when the festivities stopped. The Queen got sick, and there was fear that she would not make it – and neither would her child. The King sent out all the knights in the kingdom to search for a cure, and finally, a woman who worked in the kitchen stepped forward with a pot of soup. She claimed it had healing powers, and the King was desperate, so he got the Queen a bowl and served it to her. The woman stood by the door anxiously, and her young son, barely a year old, toddled in behind her, staring up at the Queen. As if a film had been removed, the Queen's skin regained its healthy glow and she smiled at her husband. She was fine, healed, and it was a miracle. The King thanked the woman, and she said she was happy to help. Taking her son, Samuel, by the hand, the woman led him out of the room and back down to the kitchens, and a few weeks later the Queen gave birth to a healthy baby girl. They named her Quinn, which meant wise, as they hoped she would be. And wise she was. She taught herself to read one summer morning, when she decided that she wanted to be able to read the inscriptions over the staircase. She kept herself entertained while her father was doing business and her mother was planning balls by visiting the libraries, and occasionally, the stables. And this was how she met Samuel.
They were both six at the time, although his birthday was in three days exactly. He was brushing out a horse's mane – one of the easier things to do in the stables. It was his job, and he took it very seriously. His mother had instilled a good work ethic in her boy, and he was determined to make her proud. He was so caught up in brushing the horse's pure white mane that he didn't notice her until she spoke.
"Who are you?" He jumped, dropping the brush. He scrambled after it, grabbing it and staring at the girl in front of him.
"My name is Samuel. My mother is the cook here. I work here, in the stables, your Highness." He said, quickly bowing when he realized who it was. He was only six, sure, but he knew the rules around the castle and had noticed the princess before. She usually kept to herself, and always seemed to be thinking about something. He was only a stable boy, unworthy of her attention. He kept to himself when he saw her, even though he spoke to his mother about her a lot. He told his mother he thought the princess was the prettiest girl in the world, after his mum, of course, and she had smiled and laughed and kissed his forehead, and told him to be careful, because a pretty girl like that had an overprotective father, and it was best if Samuel kept to himself. Spheres as different as theirs weren't supposed to cross. He didn't know exactly what that meant, but he had nodded his head, because his mother was usually right.
"You don't have to call me that. Quinn is fine." She said, looking at him as if he had grown a second head. "People call my father Highness."
"As you wish, Princess. Quinn." He said, correcting himself. She smiled slightly, giving a laugh that sounded like a chirp. He smiled before he could stop himself.
"I like you, Samuel." His cheeks flushed slightly, and he glanced down shyly. She took a bold step towards him, reaching her hand out for his. "I think we should be friends." He glanced at her hand, and then at his own, and back at hers. They were so different. Hers were soft and pale and girlish, dainty little things, and his were dirty and stained and already so rough, hands of a working boy, and yet, he reached forward, putting his hand in hers. She smiled warmly at him, and he promised himself he would do anything it took to get her to smile like that all the time. Her hand was warm in his, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.
"This is the beginning of something spectacular, I can just tell." She already had a vocabulary that proved her hours in the library, and he couldn't do anything but smile dumbly, nodding.
"Samuel!" There was a gruff shout from outside the stable, and he jumped, letting go of her hand quickly.
"You need to leave." He whispered to her quickly. She frowned, folding her arms across her chest.
"I am not told what to do."
"Around here, you are. Please, go." He whispered, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her towards the back entrance of the stables, opening the door and as gently as he could, pushing her out. She stared up at him, darting in and pressing her lips against his cheek. With a quiet giggle, she began to run back up to the palace. Stunned, he put his hand up to his cheek, leaning against the stall walls.
"Samuel!" The voice of the stable boss came through the front door, and soon the large body it belonged to followed. "Get that dumb expression off your face and get back to work!" Samuel quickly nodded, moving back to the horse and beginning to brush its mane again, unable to get the feel of her hand out of his or her lips against his cheek out of his mind.
"Quinn," he whispered softly, cherishing the feeling of the name on his lips. "Quinn."