Princess Sybil stared out of the window and sighed.
How she longed to be outdoors again! Running across the lawns outside the royal palace and into the woods beyond. Hair down, feet bare, gown rumpled. Free from the stifling etiquette and constraints of the court, free to be herself.
But she wasn't free. She was a prisoner.
How could my father be so unreasonable? Is a peace treaty really more important than my happiness?
King Robert had been unmoveable. Either she agreed to marry Prince Lawrence of Cavenham, or she would be locked in her room.
She had met the prince a couple of times. An odious creature with a smarmy smile, slicked back hair, and the eyes of a man she would not trust as far as she could throw him. The very thought of him made her shudder.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
When she had spoken about her interests in politics and women's rights in her father's kingdom, Prince Lawrence had smirked.
"Don't trouble your pretty little head with that nonsense, Sybil. Once we're married, you'll leave all the decisions to me."
If she hadn't been a princess, she would have taken a swing at him for that remark! As it was, the glance she shot him could have frozen the nearby river. From that moment, she'd known it was impossible to marry him.
Which meant being locked in her room, alone...
Sybil found a kind of acceptance of her new life after a week or so. Her mother and sisters were allowed to visit her (a mixed blessing, since they spent most of their time trying to convince her to change her mind) and the kind housemaid Anna brought her food and conversation a few times a day.
Otherwise, she had to rely on her own resources. She read many books, worked on her embroidery and slept more than she was used to. But she spent most of her time looking outside, longing for a way to escape.
One evening at sunset, she was leaning out of the window. The sparkling air was clearer than crystal, and the sky was so rosy-bright it hurt her eyes to look at it, so she closed her eyes and breathed it all in.
Chirrup, chirrup, chirp…
She opened her eyes in surprise, to find a small brown bird had landed on the windowsill beside her. It had an uptilted tail, and what seemed to be a cheeky look on its face.
"Hello. What are you doing here?"
The bird hopped closer to her. She held out her hand and it flew onto her finger, where it perched quite comfortably.
"Oh, little bird, I am so lonely..."
The next thing she knew, she was pouring out her heart to the tiny creature. And somehow, she knew it understood.
Each evening from then on, she looked forward to the bird's visit. The long, lonely days became less lonely, because she knew she had a friend.
A few weeks later, Sybil opened the window at sunset, something she now did every evening. Her winged companion let out a golden waterfall of song as it flew to take its usual perch.
She lifted her finger to her face, so that the bird's feathers brushed against her cheek.
"Oh, I've missed you today, my friend. What am I going to do?"
When she looked down at the bird, it tilted its head, as if to encourage her to speak on while it continued to sing.
"My father came to see me and insisted I marry Prince Lawrence. When I told him I could never do that, he shouted at me and told me he would force me to marry him. He's given me a week to change my mind and obey him, or else he will drag me to the church himself."
Her voice broke on the last sentence. She still couldn't believe her father could be cruel enough to compel her to marry a man she hated! All so that he wouldn't lose face in royal circles by failing to deliver on the terms of the treaty.
The bird's song shaded from golden to silver-grey, a melody both mournful and spine-tingling, as if to reflect her mood. She began to sob as if her heart would break, and a tear fell onto the bird's soft feathers.
The air seemed to shimmer around them both, and she felt dizzy. Stepping back, she fell to the floor in a faint.
"Your Highness, are you all right?"
Sybil opened her eyes, and saw a face she had never seen before, a face she somehow already knew by heart.
A man was leaning over her. A man with fair hair tumbling into his eyes, eyes bluer than a spring sky.
Her heart gave a strange, trembling beat as he took her hand.
"Who... who are you?"
He smiled. "You know me, your Highness. I'm your nightingale."
That thought - my nightingale - made her pulses race. She struggled to sit up.
"But how, why...?"
He slid his arm around her shoulders and lifted her up, cradling her against his broad chest.
"I've been under an enchantment. About a hundred years ago, a wicked witch called Edna tried to win my heart and failed. In her anger, she turned me into a bird. Ever since then, I've been destined to fly through the world, looking for the one maiden who could see the real me. Only she could turn me back into a man by sharing one of her tears."
He looked at her and their gazes locked. "You are that maiden. Thank you, your Highness."
Gently, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. His touch, soft as a breeze across her skin, caused her to blush and sent an aching shiver up and down her spine.
"What is your name?"
"Tom, your Highness, Tom Branson."
"Well, my lord Branson, it's a pleasure to meet you."
He winked at her, a wink she felt as if she knew from his previous visits as a bird.
"I am no lord, your Highness, but I do have a plan to help you escape..."
"Papa, I've decided to marry Prince Lawrence, as you asked."
The King smiled and patted her hand. "My dear, you've made the right decision. Prince Lawrence is extremely wealthy and you couldn't ask for better breeding in a husband."
You're talking about the man you want me to marry, not a prize Labrador! But Sybil didn't let her feelings show on her face. Everything depended on her father believing she'd had a change of heart.
"Cora? Cora, my dear – come quickly! Sybil has agreed to marry the prince."
The Queen swept into the room and enfolded her daughter in a scented hug.
"My darling Sybil, a bride! Oh, I'm so excited!"
Princesses Mary and Edith weren't far behind her.
"Sybil, thank goodness you've come to your senses. I think that Papa has made an excellent choice of husband for you – I really don't see why you took so long to realise it." Mary leaned in to kiss her sister's cheek.
Edith looked wistful. "I wish Papa would find me a husband! I'd love to marry a prince and be the centre of attention for the day."
Sybil smiled at her. "Your day will come, Edith, I'm sure of it."
The Queen gazed beneficently at her daughters. "I can't wait to start planning this wedding!"
As she kissed her mother, Sybil's eyes wandered to the door. In all the excitement, the strange man hidden behind her bedroom curtains had gone unnoticed, and he was able to sneak out without being challenged. As he left, he turned towards her and grinned.
I hope this works!
Three weeks later
Sybil looked at herself in the mirror. Dressed in an elaborate confection of silks and satins, with a veil of the finest lace, she looked every inch the fairy tale princess. Right down to the diamond tiara her mother had just placed on her head.
"Darling, you look beautiful. And I'm sure you will be happy and have... well, the most terrific fun."
"Dear Mama, thank you." Mother and daughter embraced fondly.
"Are you ready, Sybil? Time to go."
The King was waiting at the door, an expectant look on his face. Sybil had a moment's pause when she thought of what she was about to do, but then she looked at her father and nodded.
"Yes, Papa. I'm ready."
As she stepped up to the great west door of the cathedral, the bride to be could hear the bells pealing madly through the cheering of the crowd. All was in readiness for the wedding of the year.
When the trumpets began to play the processional, Princess Sybil turned to the King and took his arm with a gentle squeeze. Her sisters leading the way, she walked slowly down the aisle with her father by her side. Looking to left and right, smiling to her guests, she played her part to perfection.
Sybil did her best to suppress a shudder of distaste when she saw her fiancé at the altar, dressed in a superb military uniform (to which he had no right, never having served in the armed forces). There was a look on his haughty face as if he were waiting to take possession of some prized object – no love or admiration showed there at all.
"Here we are, Sybil." King Robert pressed her hand before moving to join Queen Cora in the front pew.
Sybil breathed deeply and squared her shoulders, the way she'd been taught, trying to stay calm.
Any moment now...
The Archbishop stepped forward. "Dearly beloved..."
He began the proceedings with a prayer. The princess didn't even hear it – all of her attention was trained on what would happen next.
Then, at last, the words she'd been waiting for were spoken.
"Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Sybil held her breath – her whole life hung in the balance in the next few seconds. And then...
"I object! This wedding cannot proceed!"
She turned around – there he was!
Dressed in a dark green chauffeur's uniform, Tom was standing at the cathedral entrance. He was lit up from behind by the setting sun, just as he had been the first time she'd seen him, and she felt her heart turn over in her chest.
Dropping her elaborate bouquet, Sybil turned and ran down the aisle. When she reached Tom's side, she took his hand. As their fingers touched, the pair of them turned into nightingales and flew away, soaring up into the sky, leaving the rest of the world behind.
All that remained to the stunned onlookers was the diamond tiara Sybil had never wanted to wear, which twirled on the stone floor in ever decreasing circles until it landed with a clatter.
After an hour or so, the two birds found themselves flying over the wild woods on the edge of the capital city. Tom flew ahead of Sybil, perching on the ground in a little clearing, waving his wing as if to encourage her to join him. She did so and, once his feathers brushed hers, they both turned back into human beings.
"How did you do that?"
"I have no idea, your Highness! But it's handy, isn't it?"
With a wink, he walked away into the heart of the woods. She followed him, with no idea what would happen next.
A few moments later, he brought them to a stop next to a car which was parked by the side of a narrow road.
"Come on, your Highness – this way." Tom opened the back door.
Sybil looked at him. "I'm riding in front, thank you. I've had enough of being in the back seat of my own life!"
He smiled. "Have it your own way, your Highness," he said as he helped her climb up into the front seat, then came around to take his position next to her.
"Do you know how to drive this thing?" she asked.
"I was a chauffeur before the wicked witch put a spell on me a hundred years ago. I think I can work it out! Cars haven't changed that much, have they?"
Tom put the car into gear, then looked at her expectantly. "Where can I take you, your Highness?"
Sybil turned to look at him, putting her hand to his cheek. "Wherever you're going, silly. Don't you know we're in this together? I'm ready to travel, and you're my ticket."
He blushed a little and looked down, then up. "But your Highness..."
"Sybil," she gently corrected him.
"Sybil, are you sure? I'm no knight in shining armour."
"If I'd wanted one of those, I'd have let my father choose one for me. I don't need anyone to save me, Tom. All I need, all I've ever wanted, is for someone to love me for who I am, and to return that love. The rest is detail."
His eyes met hers, and in them was revealed a love so strong, so deep, it took her breath away. Sliding an arm around her waist to pull her towards him, he tilted his head to kiss her. She lifted her lips to his and...
"BO-RING!" James Branson made a face. "We can skip the kissing part!"
His younger sister Sylvia nudged him in the ribs. "Shut up – I want to hear!"
"Come on you two, settle down please – you'll wake your brother," Sybil said, rocking baby Éamon in her arms. "Why don't you finish the story, love?"
Tom smiled at her. "I asked your mother to bet on me. Luckily for me, she did."
The woman born a princess looked up at the man who had been turned into a nightingale and had flown across time and space to find her. She lifted a hand to rest it on the back of her husband's neck, eyes shining, a smile curving her lips.
"The best decision I ever made."
"Oh my darling, I do love you so much," he murmured in reply. Then, he winked at his son.
"Turn away now, Jimmy," Tom joked, leaning down to kiss his wife.
"And they lived happily ever after," Sylvia sighed, hands clasped, face aglow. "I love that story! Tell it again, Mam, tell it again!"
A/N -
This story has a music cue - "The Maiden and the Nightingale" by Enrique Granados. You can find it on youtube. Especially the part at about 3:00 - swooningly romantic!
I originally wrote this fic in two parts on Tumblr, prompted by the lovely yankeecountess, a wonderful writer and even better friend. Thank you! And thank you also to repmetsyrrah, who kindly shared on Tumblr the gorgeous picture of Tom that I've used as the cover art... *le sigh*
I've used different names for the Branson children than I usually do, as you might have noticed. I had a headcanon I wanted to use this time of the Bransons naming their daughters after well known suffragettes (Sylvia Pankhurst was the first one they chose), while their sons are still named after leaders of the Easter Rising (James Connolly and Éamon de Valera this time). Always political, these two, in any AU! :)