A/N: Hello there, I am Fee-tan and I started this story because this section really needs some love. There is only one other fic!

This idea randomly came into my head and I wanted to clarify Tycho's past a bit. Also, "I, Coriander" has been my favourite book of all time since the day I started reading it, which is approximately five years ago. I don't think I'll ever find a book that has such an effect on me. Ever. Sally Gardner is a genius!

I hope you'll enjoy this story and don't forget to review ;) This chapter is still a bit of an introduction and also kinda short but it will get more exciting!

Updates won't be as frequently as I'd wish because I am currently also writing another fanfic.

Disclaimer: I don't own "I, Coriander", even though sometimes I wish I did. Sigh, the way Gardner wrote it is just so enchanting.

"The world we live in is nothing more than a mirror that reflects another world below its silvery surface, a land where time is but a small and unimportant thing, stripped of all its power"-Sally Gardner

~A fool and his wig~

1:Rosmore

The woman's eyes were filled with coldness as usual. A raven was resting on her shoulder. She was dressed in a gown that resembled the roses in the garden, complete with thorns. She was standing proudly in the centre of the room, towering above me. The flames in the fireplace were green and every time she narrowed her eyes, the fire rose. In front of the fireplace sat a girl. She possessed no beauty. Her body was squeezed into a corset, that looked like it wouldn't be able to hold the fat in place for much longer, especially because of the distressed movements the girl made.

'It just hurts so much!' Whined the girl.

'Why does that wretch take so long?' I flinched, unable to break the eye contact between myself and the queen.

'What are you waiting for, peasant?' She said. Her voice sent shivers down my spine and I found it hard to move. I had to, however. If I didn't want Rosmore to turn me into an animal. She had called me peasant on purpose, because she knew I hated that of all the offences she could throw at my head, I hated that one the most. I had been a royal. I had been a princess and a very spoiled one at that. It hurt my pride to hear someone call me peasant. More than I dared to admit to myself at the time. I was a vain person, after all.

'My apologies, your majesty.' I bowed and walked towards the chair and the girl who sat in it. I put the tile in front of her two bare feet and planted them in the tile that was filled with water. Half of it splashed against my face, hair and clothes but I didn't bother removing it. I was too hasty to get up and leave the room.

'Then, with your permission, your majesty, I will continue my tasks for the day.' I bowed again.

'The peasant is scared to death!' The raven cackled. Rosmore smiled. It was a smile without any joy, only made out of the pleasure of torturing other beings.

'In that case, we shall keep our little princess occupied for a while longer. You can start with cleaning this room.'

'I apologise your majesty but I believe you're mistaking. I have cleaned this room yesterday.' I didn't dare looking her in the eyes.

'What did I tell you yesterday?'

'Never oppose your queen.' My voice wasn't more than a whisper.

'Than act like it.' A green flame blasted upon me from her finger. I screamed and immediately cursed myself for it. Rosmore laughed, together with Unwin and Cronos, the raven. My legs weren't stable and I felt myself falling down. Tears were in my eyes and it took a lot of effort to not immediately start sobbing. At least the water in my face now gone.

I knew I was pathetic, but it couldn't be helped. That was just the kind of person I was and always would be. When my brother and I were in trouble he would always be the one to protect me, or risk his life trying. Be it with a wooden toy sword or with an iron heirloom wrought by elves.

My brother. O, how I missed him. Him and my parents, who had been killed by the queen, in order for Unwin to marry my brother and claim their inheritance and have no one complaining about it. At least, no one anyone would stand up for. The many acquaintances my parents had had, had been too scared to help Tycho and I. I didn't blame them it because if I would have been in their shoes, I had probably done the same. People like my brother and parents, strong and courageous ones, where hard to come by, even in a land that had been, according to Medlar's stories, viewed upon by others as something out of a fairy tale.

Medlar was the only one left from my old life that was still able to reach me. He was the king's magician, so he often visited the palace that was my prison. He had told me tales about another world for as long as I could remember. Stories about people who evolved and changed themselves, and had managed to contact each other from far distances. People who were strong in a world that was far more cruel sometimes than my own.

Even though wars were fought and tears were shed over and over again in that place, it was always with a different reason and in a different way. There even were countries that managed to stay out of conflicts for a long time. The inhabitants of the other world developed themselves. Medlar had once told me it had to do with something called time, and that something that barely existed in our land.

While I began to dust the furniture, never unaware of the queen's glare following me, my thoughts wandered of to Medlar. I hoped that he would visit again soon.