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Once upon a time, there were two neighbouring kingdoms that faced each other over a strip of water known as the Glass. The first kingdom, Glassmist, was ruled by a mighty, just man who was both noble and kind. The second kingdom, Fairfalcon, was ruled by a powerful man, who had won many wars and settled many conflicts. The King of Glassmist had one daughter who was to inherit his kingdom. The Princess was named Rhiannon, for her father hoped that she would become a Great Queen. However, Rhiannon had lost her mother when she was very young and the King was worried that she would not have a strong role model from whom she could learn about the duties of ruling a kingdom.
In time, the King found a new wife, whom he adored. She was fair and kind and the entire kingdom found her to be a worthy wife of their King. Her name was Lilith.
Though Lilith was initially lovely, she had a strong flaw: she was inclined to be very jealous. She resented Rhiannon, for when the King died Rhiannon would naturally become Queen and Lilith would merely be her stepmother. Moreover, Lilith's own children would never ascend to the throne. She also harboured a great grudge for Fairfalcon, for she had been cast from there when she was young. She persuaded the King to war with the neighbouring country and to lock Rhiannon in a tower until she was of marrying age. Lilith hoped that by overthrowing the neighbouring King and marrying off Rhiannon, her own children would have a throne of their own.
So until the age of sixteen, Rhiannon was locked in the North Tower, and all the while her father was at war with the neighbouring kingdom. Although trapped in an enclosed space, Rhiannon was treated well. She had toys when she was little and when she was older she had music and books. She was even permitted to walk with a guard through the castle gardens once a day.
The day Rhiannon turned sixteen, a note was sent throughout the kingdom saying that a ceasefire had been called. It was the Prince of Fairfalcon's eighteenth birthday and the noble women from every neighbouring country had been invited to a ball. Lilith visited the young princess in her tower, informing her that she must attend, in order not to seem obstinate. Rhiannon naturally protested, wondering why on Earth the King of the country with whom they were at war would want the heir to the throne of that country to attend, but meek and polite that she was, she agreed to go.
Lilith, meanwhile, knew that there would be men at the ball. She hoped that one of them would desire Rhiannon enough that she could be sent to marry him. She herself had had two children in the time that Rhiannon had been locked up: a son and a daughter. Turning to Rhiannon as though she were the greatest joy in Lilith's life, she asserted that she would be made to look like the princess she was.
"Only, my dear, if you swear not to talk to Prince Amariah. You could seriously damage any efforts to end this war by a mere slip of your tongue!"
Rhiannon simply nodded and let Lilith's ladies-in-waiting dress her for the ball. By six o'clock, she was ready to go. Rhiannon travelled in her Queen's finest carriage across the bridge of the Glass, to the marvel of all who saw her. She was not ignorant of the whispers: "Who's that?"
"She's awfully beautiful!"
"I heard that she's the King's daughter."
"The King's daughter is only little!"
"Hush, it's his other daughter…"
But Rhiannon did not feel beautiful. She felt unnatural, in a corset pulled far too tightly and her hair in a knot on top of her head. Her tiara was far too small and was placed with so many grips that they were digging into her head. She felt like the presentation of the woman she was supposed to be, rather than the girl she was.
She arrived at the castle of Prince Amariah to fanfares. Given that it was the height of summer, the ball was to take place outside and so Rhiannon was led through to a balcony. More fanfares were proclaimed as the music ceased and an announcement was given: "Her Royal Highness, the Princess Rhiannon of Glassmist!" She waved elegantly, as she had been taught, down to the crowds below. They were largely ignoring her, given the amount of royalty that had already arrived, but one man was staring directly at her. He made his way through the crowd as she was led down the stairs of the balcony. They met and he kissed her hand.
"Your name is lovely, Highness," he said.
"Thank you. It is taken from our country's Supreme Goddess; she was thought to be a great queen and my father hopes that I shall be, too. What is your name?"
"Amariah. Prince Amariah."
"Oh!" Rhiannon quickly curtseyed, but as she raised her head she accidentally bumped Amariah on the chin. "Oh, your Highness, I'm so sorry. I should, um… Go dance with the other guests…" She fled. She found a group of girls whom she thought she recognised and began to talk to them. She tried desperately hard not to look again at the Prince and failed. Several times.
Amariah was watching her with an amused expression. He obviously thought her a fool… She flushed angrily; she had been raised better than this – and moreover, who was he to judge? He was ignoring his guests! What sort of a host did that?
Turning back to her newfound friends, she chatted and continued to ignore the Prince. Abruptly, an older man rose from his chair at the centre of the High Table. This must be the King of Fairfalcon.
"We have mingled enough, I fear!" he boomed. "Let us dance! Play a waltz," he commanded the band, which soon stopped their pleasant background music and started playing in ¾.
Rhiannon knew that she couldn't escape this and, after all, her stepmother was probably vouching on her meeting her future husband tonight, so despite her hatred of dance, she curtseyed to the man bowing opposite her. She took his arm and they began to dance.
Everyone changed partners several times and Rhiannon found herself beginning to get confused with the steps. She reached for the next man's arm, but found herself interrupted by Amariah. He led her off the dance floor.
"Your Highness?" she asked, confused.
"You're embarrassing yourself. Stop dancing."
"Well, excuse me. I'm here to meet my future husband and how am I supposed to do that without dancing?"
"You've already met one man. Marry him," Amariah countered, amused.
Rhiannon frowned as she figured out what he was saying. She had danced with at least three men… Which did he think was suitable?
"I meant me, you idiot!"
"Don't call me an idiot, fool! I have read many great classical works of literature, and I play the flute, so –"
"I'm joking, Rhiannon, come on. I'm here to meet my future wife too… Apparently eighteen is 'too old' to be wandering the Earth a single man. You know in some cultures, people don't marry until they are in their thirties!"
"I don't believe you," said Rhiannon. "Thirty? I shall probably be Queen by then!"
"Don't tell me you can't be Queen without marrying? Maybe we should get married, to stop this stupid conflict. Then we can both sign our countries over to democracy and live out our retirement and money in peace. We could have three children and live in the Alps…"
"You're speaking nonsense. The Alps are in France! They have a – a President and their monarchy is in ruins! Plus their economic situation is horrific!"
"So you wouldn't have a problem with marrying me? Just democracy? Hmm…"
"Stop being absurd. We can't marry; my stepmother despises your father and our countries are too different. You are Jewish; we are pagan."
"To be honest, I couldn't care less about religion."
Rhiannon broke at that point. This man was bizarre! "Stop being so – so modern!" she protested.
"I'm only teasing. I wouldn't really give up my throne. My people are too used to it; the shock might result in us dying out."
"There are Jews elsewhere," Rhiannon pointed out. Amariah shrugged. "And by the way, if you did want to marry me, you'd have to propose properly. Down on one knee and everything."
"You are intriguing, Rhiannon," Amariah said mysteriously. "I hear my father calling me; I must go." And then, tenaciously, he kissed her. On the lips – in public! Rhiannon was horrified. "See you later," he threw over his shoulder.
Rhiannon seethed for the rest of the night. How dare he? He had called her by her name in public, kissed her, denounced both religion and autocracy and proposed moving to France! She did not participate the rest of the evening and almost cried several times. She felt so violated!
However, eventually, on her way home in the carriage, Rhiannon rationalised the Prince's actions. It was his birthday, he had probably had a little to drink and he came from a very different culture. To him, his behaviour may have been perfectly normal. She retired to bed, much more satisfied.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Go away," Rhiannon muttered in her sleep.
Tap.
"I'm sleeping, I can't come out."
Thud!
Rhiannon promptly fell out of bed. Grabbing her dressing gown, she dashed to the window. She quickly checked it for cracks (it sounded as though someone had thrown a large rock at it), before snapping it open.
"What is it?" she demanded angrily. She was stunned by who she saw. "Prince Amariah! What are you doing here?"
"Come down. I had to see you again."
"No, you didn't. I think we've established that we're very different. Furthermore, I'm wearing a night gown. I refuse to shimmy down some ivy in my night gown, regardless of how often I may or may not have done it in my past."
"Oh, stop with the 'furthermores'. You're not writing a bleeding essay."
"That was what you got out of that sentence? My use of the word 'furthermore'?"
"Just get down here!"
Reluctantly, Rhiannon did as she was told.
"Go on then, what are you doing here?"
"I told you. I had to see you again. I can't stop thinking about you."
"We met, briefly, and fought less than six hours ago and you 'can't stop thinking about' me? What planet are you on?"
"Rhiannon, I'm a Prince. You're a Princess. Falling in love rapidly is what we do."
This was true. Rhiannon's ancestors: Charming, Philip, Snow White, Rapunzel had all fell in love with the first person they'd laid eyes upon. And she grudgingly acknowledged that she was doing the same with Amariah. She faced it: he was handsome, flattering and outside her window at three in the morning. To heck with it: this time she kissed him.
And suddenly, she realised that it was what she wanted: fireworks and tingling and oh Goddess what was he doing with his tongue?
"Fuck. You'll be the death of me," Amariah announced against her lips.
She stepped back. "Language, your Highness."
"Would you call me by my name? If I'm going to marry you, I'm not calling you 'Highness' all the bloody time. And I'll damn well swear if I want to," he announced cheekily.
"Sorry, Amariah," she hissed. "And be quiet, they'll kill us if they find me, out of my tower and you the Prince of a rival country kissing me."
"Hey! You kissed me!"
Rhiannon crossed her arms. "You're a stubborn mule, you know that?"
"I certainly do. So, Rhiannon of Glassmist, tell me about yourself," Amariah grinned easily again.
She took his grin welcomingly and immediately launched into her life story as Aarne-Thompson classification number 510A: the persecuted heroine.
The next day, Rhiannon was sent back to Fairfalcon again. An armistice had been reached, to everyone's surprise. Lilith was furious: she had wanted Fairfalcon crushed. But the King refused her demand that he not sign the Armistice, as he believed that too many lives had already been lost in this ten-year-long pointless war. Besides, the only condition was that Rhiannon be allowed to visit Fairfalcon as often as possible.
And so, Rhiannon was sat in the King of Fairfalcon's courtroom. An elderly King from the country of Silverwald was visiting with his granddaughter.
"Your Majesty," he bowed to the King. "And your Highness. May I present, as a gift for your birthday, my granddaughter, Jezebel?"
Rhiannon had heard of how Silverwald treated women: they were property, to be bought and sold as necessary. They were baby-making machines. She tried not to be disgusted, as the country was a valuable ally, but in Glassmist women were respected. Their Supreme Goddess was a woman, of course.
"Oh, how wonderful," announced Amariah's father. "A wife, so soon! And so suitable!"
Amariah looked horrified. He whispered something in his father's ear, who angrily whispered something back.
"If he is already engaged," the slimier King began, "then there is no reason that she cannot be his concubine. I know that you believe in monogamy."
"We outlawed that practice in this country long ago," Amariah said sharply. "I thank you for your gift, but I do not –"
He was cut off by his father's sharp glare.
"They shall be married this Saturday!" the King proclaimed. "I would have it no other way."
Rhiannon gasped. She had been so sure; had had such faith in him that everything would work out. But of course, politics was more important.
"As you wish, father," said Amariah miserably.
He belongs with me, Rhiannon protested silently. I know everything about him: his favourite music and his dreams and oh! I love him. I feel like I've known him forever.
Out loud, Rhiannon said politely, "Excuse me, Majesties, Highnesses." She fled to the gardens and broke down in tears.
"Your Highness?" a familiar voice asked.
"Oh, Bert, take me home, please," Rhiannon asked her coach driver.
"Certainly. This way."
The journey back, Bert, who was usually silent during trips, asked, "Is everything alright, miss?"
"No, Bert, no it isn't. But I will do my duty. It is necessary."
"Very good, miss," said Bert. "But in my experience, and I know it isn't my place to tell you this, sometimes you should follow your heart. Look at the Queen of England. Even for her, the most famous monarch in the world, sometimes family comes first."
Astounded, Rhiannon said, "No, Bert, it isn't your place. Please continue to drive."
Later, a letter arrived for Rhiannon. Lilith was still hopping mad, but she allowed the note to pass through to the girl in her tower, after reading it of course. She seemed in a better mood as she handed Rhiannon the message.
My dearest R,
I promise you that I love you; only you. I am many things: a stubborn mule, like you said, but I am not a liar.
But I must marry Jezebel. My father has commanded it. He has also commanded that you be a bridesmaid. I am sorry, my love. Think how it will look, politically!
I do wish that my country could modernise. Maybe that will happen once my father is dead; once I am King. Then perhaps I can divorce this woman and we can be together.
For the time being, let us do what we must. Duty before family, as ever.
All my love,
Forever,
I love you,
A
"Well, what does it say?" Lilith simpered.
"Nothing important," Rhiannon said sadly, biting her lip.
"Oh, don't be silly! You are in love with a prince! He loves you! We will get rid of this Jezebel, and everything will be fine! Tell me, who is 'A'? You can be Queen with him, can you not?"
"It doesn't matter. Lilith, Majesty, please leave me in peace." Rhiannon didn't even care that Lilith had read the letter.
"My dear, there is nothing that I or your fairy Godmother cannot fix!"
"I haven't seen my fairy Godmother since I was six. And I doubt that she can prevent Amariah – I mean, A…"
It was too late. The damage had been done. Lilith gasped in shock and realisation. "Prince Amariah? I told you specifically not to talk to him!" She fumed, pacing around Rhiannon's tower. "You are the reason this war ended; Amariah must have spoken to his father – yes. You are ruining my plans!" Lilith cried accusingly, pointing her finger at Rhiannon.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Rhiannon protested.
Suddenly, Lilith's eyes turned dark. Lightning struck outside. "You think that you can lie to me, your Highness?" she demanded darkly. "Ever since the day I met your father I knew you were a nuisance. Well, you won't be able to be Queen if you are dead!" The end of the finger she was pointing at Rhiannon glowed green and black.
"You're a witch!"
"Well done, silly girl. Of course I am a witch. I am the stepmother of a princess! This is a cliché that shall never change. But I am more than just a witch – I am the witch! It is I who created this world after learning the ways of witchcraft! I created a fairy tale world where everything would be perfect; I would be the Princess and marry the Prince and live happily ever after! But no, my Prince died – thousands of years ago now. I learnt how to live forever and eventually, I will be on the throne again! My conquest of the world shall begin…"
"You're mad!" Rhiannon shrieked. "This world was created by the Goddess…"
"No, all these countries here, on the continent of Antarctica, were created by me! I created the climate to keep you here… The rest of the Earth knows not of your existence, as you know not of the rest of the world! The stories of events here are merely legends everywhere else. Now, Princess, die." Rhiannon opened her mouth to correct her; she did know about the rest of the world, but all the while that she had been talking, Lilith had stalked towards Rhiannon. Rhiannon stared at her, frozen. Now, her glowing finger touched Rhiannon on her forehead and she fell to the ground, dead.
"Oh, how sad. I guess you don't get your happy ending, do you?" Lilith whispered in her ear. "Goodbye, sweet princess."
What Lilith didn't realise, was that her powers had shrunk in the intervening years. She had not used magic in a long time and so now, Rhiannon was merely sleeping.
Nevertheless, she was placed on a tomb-table next to the remains of her mother, as was the custom, and surrounded by candles and mirrors. A statue of the Goddess looked over her, in front of the largest mirror set on the wall.
"She is in the Other-world, now," Lilith said sadly at the funeral. "Goodbye, sweet princess."
Rhiannon slept for the rest of the week, her body using the time to heal the slight damage that Lilith had caused when she touched Rhiannon's forehead. Now, Rhiannon had a diamond-shaped, glass birthmark between her eyebrows.
The Saturday of Amariah's wedding, she awoke. Bleary-eyed, she investigated her surroundings. She was at her mother's grave! Why was she there? She rubbed her forehead in frustration, trying to remember. She had been in her room –
Wait! There was something cold and hard in her forehead. She dashed to a mirror and examined it. The glass piece glittered in the candlelight.
I have been blessed by the Supreme Goddess, Rhiannon thought. Turning to the mirror on the wall, she asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me what happened after the ball."
The mirror played back all that happened since then, including Rhiannon's funeral and the events up until she had woken up. Shocked, Rhiannon realised what day it was.
"Mirror, mirror, aid of Goddess Gloria, show me the Prince Amariah!"
The mirror again obliged, showing Amariah getting ready for his wedding, dressed for a traditional Jewish ceremony.
I must go, Rhiannon thought sadly. I must speak my mind.
Not caring that she was dressed in the traditional brown rags of death, she hurried out of the Death Chamber. She ran; oh, she ran! Across the castle, across the Glass, all the way to Amariah's castle.
Out of breath, she snuck into the synagogue. All the people from his birthday ball were there, as were Jezebel's family, dressed in the traditional pastel colours of Silverwald. Rhiannon ducked behind some curtains. She did not pretend to understand Jewish customs, but she thought it interesting that the women of Amariah's family were on the upper level, yet Jezebel's family were all mixed together.
The bride appeared and the music began to play. Bracing herself, Rhiannon jumped out. "No!"
There were horrified gasps from all over the room. "She's a ghost!"
"She's alive!"
"She's ruining this beautiful ceremony!" The last one came from the organiser, followed by sobs.
"Amariah, don't do this. You don't have to marry her. You have a younger sister. Let her be Queen. I'll – I'll even move to France with you," she stammered.
The King of Fairfalcon rose up angrily. "How dare you? How dare you mention my daughter? She is ill! She is a girl! She cannot rule. Amariah knows his duty, as should you, your Highness!"
And Rhiannon suddenly found herself very alone in this crowded room. Amariah was ignoring her. She looked at him: is this killing you, too? What a twist of fate! Rhiannon tried to hold her head up, tried to hold back tears. Maybe her fairy tale was a tragedy, she thought.
The room fell silent as she stalked down the aisle and out of the castle. She felt as though the world were crumbling down around her. In less than four days, everything Rhiannon knew had changed. She had even known that true love prevailed… But it hadn't.
And so, she continued to walk away. Away from everything.
Three years later, Rhiannon was living in France. She had achieved highest marks in her baccalaureate and was studying in Paris. Her father sent her money occasionally. A large sum, but not frequent enough to keep her going. Time passed differently in the world of Glassmist. Instead, she worked in a library to earn money. She didn't care about that world anymore. She did not care about what had happened to Lilith, to Amariah. It was not her problem.
She was at work one day when she saw him. Amariah. He came up to her desk.
"Erm, je recherche un livre, mademoiselle. Est-ce que vous pouvez m'aider ?" he looked up. "Rhiannon?"
She smiled ruefully in reply.
"What are you doing here?"
"I work here, genius. Which book are you looking for?"
"Le Silence de la Mer. I'm studying it at university."
"You're at university? Don't they have a copy?"
"Yeah. My dad died last year. I abdicated and fled to Switzerland. I'm studying French and English Literature here in Paris. And no, it's out at the minute."
"Well, it's over here somewhere."
"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Amariah asked. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."
"Good for you."
"I never got married, Rhiannon. Jezebel's mother said she was better than me."
"Amariah, you were prepared to marry her, even though you talked of running away. And when I was prepared to, you let me down. Well, you're a bit late turning up now. I've seen the light, as they say. I'm going to become a lawyer." She snatched Le Silence de la Mer off the shelf and slapped it into his hand. "Go ask another librarian to take it out for you. I'm done."
She stalked away, for the second time in her life. In the toilets, she took a deep breath and splashed her face with water. She didn't need that life, not anymore.
If happy ever after did exist,
I would still be holding you like this.
All those fairy tales are full of shit.
One more fucking love song, I'll be sick.
~ Payphone, Maroon 5