Disclaimer: I do not own Stardust – though I would not mind too horribly if someone gave me the younger Dunstan Thorn (hottie).
A/N: This is a Stardust the MOVIE fanfiction (I have not read the book, and don't really have the time to at the moment, though I fully intend to do so sometime in the future). I am sorry if the book already explains everything in this scene and has differing actions. This is my version of what was going through Una's head when she met Dunstan Thorn.
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Her chain clicked softly on the cobblestones as she walked from the wagon to the small stall that she and her mistress had assembled earlier in the afternoon upon arriving at the village near the Wall. It had been a long day already, and it wasn't nearly over yet. Soon the crowds would be arriving at for the evening marketfest, some honest buyers, others mere picky snoots, and still more quick-fingered thieves to keep a careful eye out for. Not that she cared if her mistress was stolen from, but the beatings that followed any missing merchandise were not an experience she wished to repeat this particular day. Perhaps another time when she felt more disobediant and caged, she'd turn the other way just to feel the rise of triumph and freedom in her gut – a sensation that reminded her of her younger days, running wild in the fields with Septimus.
Ah, Septimus, her one childhood friend. He was the youngest of her brothers, only four years older as opposed to Primus's eighteen years of seniority. As children they had played together, pretended themselves to be the King and Queen of all Stormhold, brother and sister monarchs, ruling together. Back then there was no sense of conflict or threat between them, no realizations that one day they would oppose each other. All that came later, as older brother after older brother ragged on the two youngest about how the ruler of Stormhold must be bloodthirsty, strong, courageous, and most importantly of all, cunning. Attempts were made on everyones' lives, brothers against each other, and even she, herself, had played along; poisoning wine with roots to give the one who drank them horrid stomach cramps and loosing creatures in bedchambers that would contain the one bitten to their bed for weeks in utter pain. But never once did she victimize Septimus, her dear brother of whom she was so fond. And then one day after a little spat over riding abilities, she found herself with a knife to her throat, the knife being held by the one person she trusted, her Septimus.
"I should kill you now and have done with it, Sister."
"Brother, what are you doing?"
"I have to kill you someday, you know. Once I've killed all our brothers, then you will be a threat to my reign as well."
"I thought we were going to rule together like we've always said!"
"Me, share my kingdom and authority with a worthless girl? Never!"
"Septimus, what has happened to you? You've changed!"
"I've grown up, Una, as you need to do as well. We're older now and things can never be as they were before. We can no longer be friends. The sons you may bear are a threat to me, and I will let no one stand in my way, little sister, not even you."
The words brought tears to her eyes, even now. That had been the day her blissful childhood ended. The games and pranks she had played seemed so suddenly sinister and she took to leaving her quarters only when she was commanded to by her father. If her closest brother had almost killed her, what then would her older brothers who had no love for her try and do?
It was a question that she would learn the answer of. They would kidnap her from her chambers and steal her away into the dark woods to commit the brutal deed there. They would deafen their ears to her pleas for mercy and calls to their consciences. Blades would be unsheathed, eyes turn cold, and hearts hardened. And she would run. Run, for both her life and the hope of a decent heir to the throne rested upon her escaping. Never could one of the selfish and cruel men her brothers all had become rule Stormhold justly. Never could one ever sire a son who was anything but what they were. It all rested on her, and so she kept running. She ran till she came to a small caravan wagon, parked under an enormous tree in the center of the forest. With haste, she rattled the bolted door, calling in a panicking voice for someone awaken and take pity on her and hide her. The middle-aged woman who answered, after a minute of knocking, pulled her inside, and agreed to give her aid, for some help in return.
"I need a companion on my journey. Swear to stay with me, help with my work, and I will shield you from your seekers' eyes."
"I swear it!"
"Then take this chain, my dear, for it is a magic chain that I picked up years ago. Wrap the end around your ankle, and in doing that, you will not be found by those that hunt you."
And so the chain was put on, and there the chain had remained for the past three years, never once being removed. She had sworn to stay with the woman, a witch as she found out too late, and help the woman, and unknowingly bartered for safety with her freedom. Ditchwater Sal had kept her side of the bargain and had promptly turned the entire wagon invisible till the princes had past, gaining herself a slave.
A slave, not a princess any longer, yet she was alive and apparently forgotten by her brothers. She still had the power to bear a son to usurp them, and that was a power she intended to exercise. However, she waited. She waited, watching all the men she came in contact with, evaluating them, seeing if they would be the one that would sire her child. She needed someone who would care for the baby, seeing how her mistress would never allow her to do so herself. Someone who could keep the child safe, away from the prying eyes of the Stormhold royalty. Someone inconspicuous and who had a pure heart. Someone who would raise the baby well, ingraining moral and love into the child from the very beginning.
Never once during the three years since she became a slave did she meet such a man, and she came under the belief that no such person existed in all of Stormhold. No one to take her son and keep him safe. Her son, for she knew her child would be a male. He had to be a male, and she would name him Tristran – sorrowful one, because he would grow to adulthood without a mother.
Three long years of waiting with no results. Heaving a sigh, she set down the tray she had been carrying and looked up...and caught sight of him. A boy, nearly a man, but an outsider. She couldn't tell how she knew he wasn't from Stormhold, perhaps the way his young face took in all the hubbub of the crowd, or maybe his clothes were slightly different from any she had seen before, but she knew without any doubt that he was from the world beyond – the fabled England. And he was exactly what she needed, someone who could keep her baby safe. Let Septimus and the others try and find her child as much as they like, little Tristran would be hidden away, completely out of reach.
"I don't deal with timewasters," her mistress snarled as she too eyed the young man. "Come tend the stall, I'm off to the Slaughtered Prince for a pint."
Certainly the stars were watching tonight and wishing her all the luck they could offer, for her mistress would be a long time at the inn, and very drunk upon returning. Surely it was a sign that this outsider was destined to be the one.
She played the part of an enticing young slave. The poor boy mustn't know that their night together was anything more than a rebellious girl seeing something she wanted. He mustn't learn how important their Tristran would be – how he would have the chance to save Stormhold.
"See anything you like?"
"Uh, definitely. Uh, I mean, what I meant was, those ones, the blue ones, how much are they?"
"Well, they might be the color of your hair, or they might all your memories before you were three. I can check if you'd like. But anyway, don't buy the bluebells. Buy this one. Snowdrop. It'll bring you luck."
"And what does it cost?"
"This one costs a kiss."
She touched her cheek lightly and he leaned in to kiss it, but at the last moment, she turned and met his mouth with hers. He was so careful, so sensitive, so perfect.
"Is she gone?"
He nodded.
"Follow me."
Her chain clinked softly on the cobblestones once more and she sensed him stop behind her. When she turned, he was holding the metal, examining it before looking at her in shock.
"I'm really a princess, tricked into being a witch's slave. Will you liberate me?"
The innocence of the boy was overwhelming as he knelt there in the dirt, the cursed chain held tight in one hand, a knife in the other. She had asked many a man that question and all had turned away, never caring enough to free a wronged woman. Yet here was this lad, slashing at the chain that had held her prisoner for three years. She watched as it separated and then grew back together as she knew it would.
"It's an enchanted chain. I'll never be free till she dies. Sorry."
"But if I can't liberate you, what do you want of me?"
Poor boy, yet he was the perfect person to sire and raise her child. Their child. Their Tristran. This boy was a good boy, and boy that would soon be forced into manhood. He had no clue as to how he was altering Stormhold's fate as he climbed the stairs into the wagon behind her.
She, Una, she might be stuck as a slave for the rest of her days, unable to wreak revenge on her cruel-hearted brothers; but through her son she could see the tyrants fall and freedom restored to the people. Tristran, with half her spirit and determination, and half this boy's kindness and love – he would find his way back to Stormhold and gain the throne. And as she closed the wagon doors, peering out one last time to glimpse the stars, she knew that the day her son returned would free her heart more than a chainless ankle ever could.
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A/N: Please review!
-- peculiarjuliar