Author's note: This is my first fanfic of any kind, so a little scared of putting this up! I'm planning to publish a few chapters and see if there's any interest, and if so, will continue with the story. Bear with the slow opening...
The Crown Princess was putting her children to bed.
There were plenty of nursemaids to do this, but the Princess usually preferred to wash their faces, brush their teeth, kiss them goodnight and tuck them up in bed herself. Tonight, however, was difficult. It was a warm midsummer evening and the sky was still light outside; Aurelia, the oldest child, did not see the point of going to bed when you could be running outside in the palace gardens, and since the two younger ones agreed with everything she said, there had been difficulty in convincing them to lie down. Only the baby, Pippin (his real name was Philip but he was too small still to have such an important name) was already asleep, curled up in his cradle in the nursery, looking sweet and angelic.
Aurelia looked anything but sweet and angelic as she sat up in bed; she resembled a small cheeky elf, with black hair and eyes and a scowl on her face.
"But Mamma, it's too early to go to bed, the sun is still awake and so are the birds, and anyway it's not fair, I'm six years old and I have to go to sleep at the same time as the others!"
"Yes, it's not fair!" chimed in David, the next oldest, while little Chrissie shouted, "No fair!"
The Princess sighed, closed the curtains so that the sun couldn't reach in and keep them awake, and sat down on Aurelia's bed. "How about if I tell you a story?" she said gently.
The tiny Princess thought about it. "Yes, tell us a story, Mamma," she said at last.
"Tell us the one about the hidden princess!"
"No, the one about the glass shoe!"
"That's the same one, silly."
"No it isn't!"
"'Tis!"
"All right," laughed their mother. "I'll tell you. But you must lie down and be quiet." She waited until they had burrowed down under their blankets, and when she could only see the tips of their noses and their bright eyes looking at her, she began.
"Once upon a time," the Princess said, "in a kingdom not so far from here, a little Princess lived with her mother and father and her older brother. Her name was Elena…"
ELENA
When I was little, I was often told that I was the luckiest girl in the kingdom, and it must have been true for I never wanted for anything. I had rooms full of toys and games to play with; I had a little garden of my very own to run around in; my bedroom was every shade of pink imaginable and my bed was a real princess bed with lace curtains around it. I used to pull them closed and imagine I was living in a cave; the cook or any of the kitchen maids would give me a small supply of food to eat, biscuits or freshly baked cakes or some savoury pastries that had been slightly burnt, and with a stack of books to read I could spend hours there.
I knew nothing of hardship or danger or difficulty; and I suppose I must have been a bit spoilt, because the moment I wanted something, I got it. But how could I help it? I was everybody's little darling, an adored Princess who lived in a fairytale, and I was the happiest girl in Tanezia.
When I was eight years old, there was trouble in the neighbouring kingdom of Nabol. It had begun several years before (I learnt this as I grew older, although at the time I had only the vaguest idea of it) when the young king had been presented a slave girl for his household. She was a dark-skinned beauty from the far land of Aradia, frightened but with a proud spirit; and the king fell in love with her, and she with him, the moment they set eyes on each other. He freed her and they were married soon afterwards.
The king, whose name was James, had a younger brother who had wanted to inherit the throne, and he was bitterly jealous of the couple. He had been plotting and scheming for years, and he saw in this interracial marriage a chance to stir up trouble for the king, who was still new to his rights and responsibilities and so gave his brother Thomas, whom he innocently loved, more power than he should have had. Thomas began to spread rumours of dissent. Gradually, whispers spread throughout the land: that the new queen was nothing but a savage, whose people thought nothing of eating unwelcome strangers; that she had bewitched their king into marrying her for the throne; that she was planning to murder him with her sorcery and rule the Nabolese as she liked.
But King James was well liked and respected, for he was a just ruler, and the whispers came to nothing more than a shadow, hardly effective except in a few small villages where there was still a distrust of people with different coloured skin. Soon the Queen gave birth to a son, Callum, and Thomas's bitterness increased. That he should live to see the throne inherited by the son of a savage, he told himself, was utter madness. (As a matter of fact, the Queen Sheidra had been a princess in her own country; but about this he did not know, or care.) And so he redoubled his efforts, gradually and subtly building up a force of rebels who he either persuaded or threatened to agree with him, patiently biding his time until (in the year that Callum turned ten) he had enough of an army to attack the palace.
His plans were foiled, however, by a spy who had managed to get word to the royal household of the attack, and when the rebel army got to the palace, they found King James' army prepared to meet them. Two nights before, the king had sent his children to the Tanezian King and Queen – my parents – along with a plea for help.
And so I met Callum for the first time.
CALLUM
I remember that the journey over had been one of the longest in my short life. The carriage rattled along in the darkness. My little sister Lydia and I, watched over (and held, in her case) by anxious attendants, were mute, from exhaustion and fear. At least, she was scared. I was not, because – as I told myself, scornfully – princes were never scared. Princes were heros. And if heroic obedience was required of me, then that would be my part to play.
So I had not protested as our mother bundled us into the carriage, kissing us gently on the forehead and telling us to be good for King Stefan and Queen Alba. Her beautiful worried face was the last thing I saw as the horses pulled us away from our home and all the certainty we'd ever known. The moment we arrived at the Tanezian palace, we were rushed straight to bed, where I slept instantly.
What felt like a few seconds later (though it was a good ten hours), I was woken by a hissing noise. Warily, I opened my eyes.
Standing over me were two children, a boy about my age and a younger girl. They both looked very Tanezian: pale skin, dark hair and eyes. As I stirred, the girl squeaked, wide-eyed.
"Shh, Marcus, he's waking up!"
"Well that's your fault, dumbo, you said we should go and see if he was awake yet." They were whispering vociferously.
"He's been asleep for ages. I heard that it's bad for you to sleep for too long."
"No you didn't, you just wanted to play with him."
"Well what's the point of having someone to play with if he's asleep?"
At this point I decided to intervene. "Actually, I'm awake," I pointed out. They jumped and looked at me again.
"Hello," said the boy. He looked friendly. I decided I liked him.
"Hello. I'm Callum."
"We know," said the girl. I decided I didn't like her. She was too pretty; she had fluffy curls and her eyes were big and green, and she was wearing a pink dress with lace on it. I didn't like girls that giggled or said 'I mustn't get my clothes dirty!' whenever you asked them to do anything interesting. She looked as if she would be that kind of girl. Besides, she had woken me up.
"I'm Elena," she said with more self-importance than I thought necessary. "I'm eight. How old are you?"
"Ten," I said shortly.
"Me too!" said Marcus, and grinned at me. "Want to come and see my model train?"
"All right!" I pushed the heavy quilts aside and pulled on my shoes – I'd been allowed (through sheer exhaustion) to sleep fully clothed.
"Can I come?" whined his annoying little sister.
"Sorry, 'Lena. No girls allowed," said Marcus, and we ran out of the room together, laughing, and leaving the little Princess behind.
ELENA
Callum and Lydia lived with us for several months, while the rebel force was well and truly squashed with the help of my father's army. Lydia was only three at the time and so not interesting to me, but Callum I worshipped with every fibre of my being. He fascinated me; I had never seen anyone like him: his brown skin, his sparkling black eyes, his thick eyelashes as long as my own, the way he was so self-assured; to me, he knew everything that there was to know.
He spent every moment with Marcus, who was about the same age as him, and I spent every moment trying to get them to include me. My efforts for a while were completely fruitless, until the two of them decided that it would be more fun to torment me than ignore me; they would dream up impossible tasks for me to attempt, such as a treasure-hunt with no clues, getting from one part of the palace to another without being seen by anyone, going a whole day without speaking a single word, or climbing the biggest tree in the palace gardens. This last task, they swore, would enable me to be part of their elusive 'club' (which I later discovered consisted of nothing but a few mysterious passwords), if I got up to the third big branch. Longing to be included, I borrowed a pair of Marcus' old trousers and, covering myself with scratches and splinters in the process, triumphantly (if slowly) made my way up to the branch in question. There I sat, inordinately pleased with myself. From where I was, it was hard to read the boys' expressions, but I was sure that they were reluctantly admiring my tree-climbing skill. It was only after a few moments that I realised: I had no idea how to get down.
When I finally managed to make this clear to the boys, I half-expected them to laugh at me, and vanish. Instead, Marcus ran to get help. Callum, however, spat on his hands, put on his most determined look, and began to climb after me.
That has always been one of my favourite memories: clutching, terrified, the rough bark while Callum, scratched, dirty and with fierce determination in his eyes pulled himself up to me. Marcus returned with some palace guards just as Callum swung himself up to where I was. I watched him warily: I wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't make me jump off. Instead, he inched forwards cautiously.
"All you have to do is get your legs round the trunk, Princess," he said, in a teasing voice, but I could hear the worry behind it. I shook my head stubbornly. I suddenly had an irrational fear that the tree was somehow alive to my presence, and that if I moved it would shake me off like a dog. I clung tighter.
"It's easy, silly. Look." He demonstrated, but I refused to move. Peeking from the corner of my eye, I saw that the guards had no idea what to do. Finally one of them shouted up that they'd search for a ladder, but I knew that the only ladders we had were for apple picking in autumn and they were not nearly long enough.
"Callum," I whispered, "I'm scared."
He sighed. "All right, Princess. Climb onto my back."
"What?" I squeaked, sure I'd misheard him. I was hardly heavy for a small eight-year-old girl, but he was only a skinny ten-year-old and I was certain that there was no way he could climb a tree with me on his back. However, I underestimated his strength of character. Within a few minutes, under the astonished gaze of the guards and my brother, the young prince was making his precarious way down the tree with me clinging like a baby monkey to his back, my eyes screwed shut with fear.
When he reached the last two metres of the trunk, there were strong arms to fall into, and so we reached the ground without breaking any bones. We were then carted off to my parents, who were furious with the three of us: the boys for teasing me, me for behaving in the most unladylike way possible, and all of us for the danger we'd put ourselves into. We were all sent to bed with no supper; but Callum sneaked into my room to whisper, "You did jolly well to get up to the branch, anyway."
I sat up in bed. "Can I be in your club?"
His black eyes sparkled at me. "All right then."
When peace was restored in Nabol and Thomas banished for ever from the kingdom, Callum and Lydia were sent back to their own palace, but from then on we were firm friends and often saw each other. In fact, as I got older and my parents grew to know King James and Queen Sheidra better, there began to be talk of a betrothal between us. Callum was heir to the throne, and a blood alliance between neighbouring kingdoms was common. Although we were never officially told, and never mentioned it to each other, we both knew of this.
The years passed quickly: I was happy; I still had everything I wanted, and now I had an exciting future in Nabol to look forward to. It was a peaceful time for both realms, and everything prospered.
Then, one morning, I opened my eyes to a day I'd been longing for: my sixteenth birthday.