Once upon a time, there was a wealthy and prosperous kingdom. The king and queen were blessed with two children, both daughters. The younger daughter, though lovely with hair spun from gold and eyes like the sea, was known for her gentle kindness, and often overshadowed by her sister. With glossy sable tresses and striking silver eyes, the elder grew in beauty year after year until whispers of her unearthly loveliness spread through the land, bringing many to the kingdom who desired to look upon her face. Though countless gifts of untold value were offered to the princess, Psyche could love none of the suitors, for they could not understand her worth beyond the chrysalis of her beauty. Her sister, Primrose, though younger and much less lovely, married a king before Psyche was even betrothed. The eldest appeared doomed to loneliness, isolated in her father's castle.

Unbeknownst to the ruler and his wife, the worship bestowed upon their comely daughter had angered the goddess Aphrodite, who commanded her son, Eros, to shoot the princess with one of his golden arrows and compel her to fall in love with the ugliest, foulest creature in all the land. However, this did nothing to stop the offerings that continued to be laid at Psyche's feet by those enthralled with her. Aphrodite, enraged

by the empty altars within her temples, again cursed the royal family. The visits from the suitors ceased immediately, as commanded by the jealous goddess.

The king and queen grew concerned for their eldest daughter when they understood no proposal of marriage would manifest, and in turn, sought counsel with the Oracle of Delphi. The queen was told the withdrawal of suitors had been willed by the Gods. Their daughter was destined to marry a serpent as dire and as fierce as might be thought, who flew with wings above in starry skies, and who subdued each thing with fire. A monster that overcame both Gods and men. The king and queen, though grieved by the prophecy, obeyed the command to prepare their daughter for both a wedding and a funeral and leave her atop a mountain for her husband.

The morning of the ceremony, Psyche lingered in the copper washtub until the steaming water, brought by her handmaiden, cooled. A shiver ran through her slight frame.

"My Katniss," the woman said, noticing the trembling of her mistress's hands. Her words calmed the princess, reminding her of the pet name bestowed on her as a child, when she spent nearly all her time in water.

"Do not weep, Princess, for you honor your parents and the gods by doing your duty. Do not give up hope. There may be more to your fate than we know."

Hope seemed like an impossibility as the king and queen, leading the procession, left the castle near sunset. Reclined upon a litter borne by twelve servants, Psyche, robed and veiled in black lace, raised her chin bravely against the sound of the weeping. The princess commanded the others not to cry, as it was her future, not theirs, that was so horribly fated by the Gods. Behind the litter stumbled her sister, leaning on her husband's arm. After followed the citizens of the realm, noble, gentry, and commoner alike, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the lovely princess's awful husband.

As the sun slipped below the horizon the king and queen, along with every other person Psyche had ever known, left her on the mountaintop. Alone.

Psyche, emboldened by the reassuring words of hope from her handmaiden, refused to lament her freedom. She waited, shivering in the cold and trying to be brave, for the sake of her kingdom, her parents, and the gods. Though she knew she wasn't to question the fate that brought her here, she couldn't help but to wonder what would become of her if she had married one of the suitors who came to woo her, or why the reward for her beauty was such an awful destiny.

The moon was high when a breeze blew the veil away from her face and the tears from her eyes. Psyche looked around wildly, hoping for a glimpse of her husband, but found none.