Five years later the main square of Arkadia City, a bustling marketplace of townspeople, livestock, and various goods, was filled as never before. Nearly everyone in the kingdom's capital gathered to hear the announcement of the great Prince Bellamy's bride-to be.
Prince Bellamy was an attractive man, with thick dark brown hair, olive skin, and sparkling brown eyes, whose royal attire gave the impression of a man of incredible power and bearing. He stood tall upon the castle balcony, overlooking his people. On his left were his aging parents, the King and Queen. On his right was an older, dark-skinned man with a shortly trimmed beard. He was both the Prince's mentor and his match in strength, Count Charles Pike.
Prince Bellamy raised his hands and began to speak, "My people." Nothing could be heard but the commanding sound of his voice. "A month from now our country will have its 500th anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry a lady who was once a commoner like yourselves." The prince paused and smiled. "But perhaps you won't find her so common now. Would you like to meet her?"
The crowd boomed a thunderous "yes!" towards their prince.
Prince Bellamy raised his hand, gesturing towards the archway at the back of the castle square. "My people... the Princess Clarke!"
The crowd turned as Clarke slowly made her way through the dark archway into the sunny square. She was resplendent, wearing a white silk dress embroidered with countless pearls and glittering pieces of gold. And then, with no instruction at all, the people began to kneel before her in waves, with many muttering the words "our princess."
Clarke was in shock, her eyes swelling with tears for reasons she could not explain. She never dreamed of anyone kneeling before her… except one person who did when she was a commoner, not a princess. But Clarke tried to push the thought out of her mind as she looked up at the castle balcony at her prince. Her tears immediately stopped, her expression stiffened.
Clarke's emptiness consumed her. Although the law of the land gave Bellamy the right to choose his bride, she did not love him. Despite Bellamy's reassurance that she would one day grow to love him, the only joy she found was in her daily ride.
She barreled along the countryside, her hair whipping in the wind as she maneuvered her mare through the forest, leaves crunching under her steed's hooves. She galloped for miles, with a small voice in her head telling her that if she kept riding, she could leave Arkadia, going where not even her prince could touch her. But her thoughts were interrupted when she saw three figures ahead, standing at the riverside.
Clarke reined in next to the peculiar trio, two women who couldn't be much older than herself and a man so tall it was as if he were a giant.
One of the women stepped forward bowing her head. Her face was covered in symmetrical thickened scars, her light skin in contrast with her dark, hardened eyes and hair. "A word, my lady? My name is Ontari. This is Octavia," the woman nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of the thick sword that hung from her hip. "And he's Fezzik," the giant flashed a grin, his thick, curly brown hair moving slightly in the breeze.
Clarke studied the travelers as Ontari took a few steps forward. "We are poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?" Although the woman was smiling, there was something about her that made Clarke uneasy.
"There is nothing around here, not for miles."
Ontari let out a chuckle. She was right next to Clarke now. "Then there will be no one around to hear you scream."
It all happened so quickly. Ontari gripped Clarke's wrist and pulled down with all of her strength, ripping Clarke from her horse. She crumpled on the ground with a loud thud and had barely processed what happened when something hard made contact with her skull and everything went black.
It was dusk as Octavia worked to get their small ship prepared for departure while the giant, Fezzik, carried Clarke's unconscious body onboard. Octavia curiously looked at Ontari as she ripped tiny pieces of fabric from an army jacket and tucked them along the saddle of Clarke's horse. "What are you ripping?"
Ontari didn't stop nor turn. "It's fabric from the uniform of an army officer of Polis."
"Who's Polis?"
Ontari rolled her eyes pointing across the water. "The country across the sea, the sworn enemy of Arkadia." She slapped the horse's rump and it took off in the direction Clarke had come. The pair started climbing into the boat as Ontari continued. "Once that horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Prince suspect the Polithians have abducted his sweet princess." The mad look in Ontari's eye made Octavia uncomfortable. "And when he finds her body dead on the Polis frontier his suspicions will be confirmed."
Octavia looked straight at the ground while Fezzik made eye contact with Ontari. "You never said anything about killing anyone."
Ontari was clearly getting annoyed at this point. "I've hired you to help me start a war. That's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition." She grinned.
"But I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent girl," the giant continued.
Ontari whirled on Fezzik. "Am I losing it or did I actually hear the word, 'think' come out of your mouth? You weren't hired for your brains, you dim-whitted land mass."
Octavia spoke up. "I-I agree with Fezzik.".
Ontari was in a fury now "Oh-ho-ho, the drunk has spoken. What happens to her doesn't concern you. -I- will kill her. And remember this," Ontari rushed towards Octavia, getting right into her face. "When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn't figure out how to buy brandy. And you, "she turned on Fezzick as he stepped back as much as he could as Ontari advanced. "Friendless, brainless, helpless, and hopeless. Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed? In Greenland?"
Ontari glared at him, then turned, leaving them.
Octavia approached Fezzik, who was clearly distressed by the insults he had just received. Octavia reached up and put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "Ontari just likes to fuss."
Fezzick looked down at her. "I think she likes to scream at us."
"She probably means no harm," Octavia shrugged.
"Well she's really very short on charm."
Octavia grinned widely. "Ohh, you've a great gift for rhyme!"
Fezzick began to smile. "Yes, some of the time."
Ontari whirled on the pair. "ENOUGH of that." The boat began to sail off.
"Hey Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?" Octavia asked, moving the sails.
"If there are, we'll all be dead!"
"Okay Fezzik, no more rhymes now, I mean it.
"Does anybody want a peanut?"
Ontari screamed hopelessly into the night.