Chapter 1: The Miller's Daughter

I laughed merrily. I twirled and giggled in the morning sunlight. A boy from the village, Matthew Chandler, had shown me the perfect spot for watching a sunrise. Matthew Chandler was three years older than myself. His family was a big buyer of Father's flour.

Matthew turned ten recently. I guessed he thought a seven-year-old village girl was too much work for a soon-to-be man. He was kind. He tugged my braids and laughed.

"Sit, Mia." He said. I laughed again and sat, watching the rest of the sunrise.

I smiled. "It's beautiful, Matt."

He looked down. "Mother and Father don't know I'm here in the morning." He replied. "I – I can't come anymore." He sighed. "We're leaving for the next village."

I hurt. Matt was my one true friend. He'd even shared his favorite sunrise spot. "I understand."

He breathed deeply. "I knew you would, Mia. You always have." He pressed a hand to his heart. "You're the best friend a boy could ask for."

I threw my arms around his neck. His hazel eyes were tearing up. "I'll miss our games."

He pulled my arms off. "You're going to be a lady soon. You can't go hugging people." I looked down, knowing Grandma would scold me for it. He lifted my chin. "Don't worry, little Mia. Lady Fate will see us together again."

Six years later…

"… And they lived happily ever after." My Grandma finished. She tucked the heavy blankets around my shivering form. "Now, sleep, little Mia."

My name's Amelia, but Grandma likes to call me 'little Mia' since her name was Mia. My full name's Amelia Mia Miller. I'm the only child of John and Mae Miller. Mother died bearing me, and my dad died a few years back from a milling accident.

I smiled at Grandma and rolled over sleepily. Each night, she told me a story from the collection she held. I've heard stories of mermaids, unicorns, genies and all those fanciful creatures. I've heard of True Love breaking the spell on a big beast and a maid who married a prince.

Grandma promised me the best story of all for tomorrow night. Tomorrow is the night before my thirteenth birthday and that is when I get to let down my skirt and start becoming "a woman". Never, ever, have I thought about what I would do when I became a woman. Women don't listen to fairy tales and gossip with their grandma late into the night.

I simply loved my grandma's stories too much to let them go.

She promised to stay up with me until the witching hour. I rolled back over and I kissed my grandma goodnight. She stood and left the room. She'd come back later (we had to share the bed) and sleep, but she always let me get to sleep first.

I dreamt that night of fairies coming. They took me to their lands and I learned all sorts of magic.

In the morning – Grandma was already up and around –, I rose to give the chickens feed and pull out the breakfast Grandma and I would make.

She came in from the outside. "Mia, we're going to look make breakfast and then you and me are going to go collect herbs for me to dry and sell."

"Yes, Grandma." I replied, ever the obedient twelve-year-old.

"I shall tell you the story for tonight." She said suddenly.

I gasped. "Grandma! That was for tonight not now!" For once, I objected to hearing her story. I wanted the special story for tonight.

"Amelia Mia Miller!" She commanded. Obediently, I shut my mouth. I was in no position to be telling my Grandma what to do.

I sunk into my farm-girl self. "Grandma, may I ask a question?"

She smiled. "Sure, honey." She was her normal self.

"What if two people never met to save a country? What if the good king was never killed? What if-" Grandma stopped my running mouth.

"Child, 'what if's will get you no where. They happen because Lady Fate willed them that way. Don't question it." She smiled gingerly. "Now, let me think of the proper starting place."

"Once upon a time." I prompted eagerly. All thoughts of the special story being only for tonight were gone.

"Ah, yes, Once upon a time." She whispered.

Her story began. "A good and kind king ruled over a kingdom. He was beloved by his servants and people alike. If one had thought he was perfect, they were in the false." She started. "At night, after his wife was asleep and the servants abed, he crept into the vaults.

"He counted, each night, the exact amount of gold in his treasury. He shined each piece and made sure they shone with an unearthly glow." She smiled at my dreamy expression. Her voice wove the picture for me. "The king grew vain. He stopped being kind, gentle and caring. He killed his wife for unfaithfulness and murdered his personal slaves for plots against him.

"He became a King of Night." Kings of Night were the village nickname for a bad or conceited person. "One of his many mistresses bore him a son. In the birthing chamber, a prophecy unfolded. His son would overthrow him when the child turned exactly twenty-one.

"The king had the child killed." Grandma said. "But, the king did not account for Lady Fate. The boy-prince escaped in a midwife's basket. He disappeared. The king was told the child had been taken care of."

I shivered. "What next?" I asked eagerly.

Grandma shook her head. "There is no end yet. That story unfolded exactly fifteen years ago."

I gasped. "The child turns twenty-one six years!"

Grandma smiled. "Don't worry, child. The prince won't know of his destiny quite yet. After all, what fun would the tale be if the hero knew of his destiny since birth?"

My shoulders slumped. "Yes, Grandma." I replied.

"Now, child, go run this piece of bread out to the birds."

I carried the words in my heart, repeating the story till I knew it by heart.

That afternoon Grandma died of an unknown source. The village healers called it a "heart attack" but why would her heart revolt?

I knew suddenly why Grandma had told me the story preemptively. She knew she would die before it could be told to me this midnight. It didn't dull the heartache. I was alone, except for my father.

I feared that Grandma's death was caused by her words about fairy tales. Maybe Lady Fate had decided that Grandma had told one too many stories.

I threw the words away, casting them aside like a rag-doll. I cried and cried at night for Grandma. She was my mother, in a way. First Lady Fate took Mama from Father; then, Father; now, Grandma. Where would I go?