"It is not in doing what you like, but in liking what you do that is the secret of happiness" - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


"Anabelle wake up, you lazy bones," a sweet voice called.

"Ten more minutes," she murmured, snuggling down into the soft feathered pillow her head rested upon.

"Anabelle, the prince is coming today to ask for your hand, we have to get you ready," the voice spoke again pulling the bedcovers off of her, exposing her to a cold draft, which caused her to shiver.

"I'm going to be engaged," she squealed, opening her eyes and staring up at her handmaid excitedly.

"You are miss," Julia laughed as she helped her out of her bed, stripping her of the long white nightdress she had worn to sleep in and helping her into a large metal bathtub.

"Ohh this is nice," she breathed as she eased herself into the scolding rose petal scented water, her head falling backwards against the brim of the tub, her eyes closing in pleasure.

"You're going to be the queen someday," Julia told her as the handmaid began to wash her hair, massaging her scalp with her fingers as she combed through the mass of dark curls.

"I'll be queen," she laughed happily imagining a life as royalty, one day married to the prince who would be made king upon his father's death.

She'd one day be king Richards wife, ruling over the Twelve Kingdoms justly and fairly. While Julia worked her magic, cleaning her hair and skin, she allowed her mind to run wild with fantasies of her life with the fair-haired prince, a man she had been promised to since they were both infants. She'd grow to love the blue-eyed man eventually and they'd have a family together, doing their duty to preserve the royal line, she'd be happy, they'd both be.


It was midday and Anabelle was walking through the grounds of the manor she had grown up in. The prince wasn't due for another three hours and she'd slipped away from the festivities of the house, to get some fresh air. The gardens were fragrant, rich flowers blooming in all directions, each one bright and colourful. This was one of her favourite places, it was peaceful, a place she could come without the expectations of those within the confines of her home.

Anabelle found a bench deep inside the enchanted garden, hidden away from anyone who dared to try and spy on her from any of the many windows of the gloomy grey manor. Content and alone she opened the book she had brought with her and began to read silently to herself as small fairies fluttered through the air around her, settling themselves on flower petals, their translucent wings sparkling in the midday sun.

"What are you reading," a joyful voice asked a while later, Anabelle let out a terrified scream at the sound, her eyes flying to a redheaded man who had found her, he had a kind smile and hazel eyes that made her gasp, she recognised those eyes, from where she didn't know but they drew her to him. Anabelle stood, flattening out the skirt of her cerulean dress as she approached the man.

"I didn't mean to startle you Miss Anabelle," the man told her, running his hand through his red hair awkwardly.

"It's okay, I was in my own world, wasn't expecting anyone to find me. I'm reading a book on fairy tales," she told him, placing a worn leather bookmark carefully between the worn well-read pages to mark her place before she closed her book and settled it into the satchel she carried on her shoulder.

"I never really gave much stock to fairy tales," the man said, with a laugh.

"Why not, magic is real, why not fairy tales," she asked quietly, holding her hand out for one of the fairies to land. The man smiled at her, both of them watching as a small purple fairy flew towards her settling itself on one of her outstretched fingers, its legs swinging in the gardens light breeze.

"No fairy godmother has ever come to help me, I've had to claw my way to where I am," he told her.

"Is that so, and where exactly are you," she asked him, her eyes tracing the freckles on his pale face, memorising each and every one of them.

"I'm the Royal Jester," he proclaimed proudly.

"Is that so, you don't look like a jester to me," she said. The man pulled out a wand and with a flick of it his simple clothes transformed into a striped red, gold and green costume, a belled jester's hat affixing itself atop of his red hair.

"I don't always dress the part," he told her quietly, his eyes sorrowful.

"Why are you sad, Mr Jester," she asked him softly.

"A girl I've watched from afar, who I have grown to love from a distance is to be wed to another," he breathed, smiling at her miserably.

"You should tell her you like her, perhaps she'll choose differently," she told him, reaching forward to squeeze his hand with the one the small fairy wasn't sat on, trying to offer him a small amount of comfort. The jester smiled, reaching up to move one of her fallen curls, fixing it behind her ear, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone, caressing her flesh that flushed prettily, as she stared up wide eyed into his hazel eyes.

"I should tell her, should I," he asked her quietly, his eyes tracing her face, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips.

"Yes," Anabelle whispered.

"I'm in love with you Lady Anabelle," the jester told her, his hazel eyes pools of love and desire as he stroked his thumb across her lips that had opened into a small O of shock. The jester smiled at her tenderly before leaning forward to press his lips to hers.

Anabelle had never been kissed before, but it was kismet, magical, everything the fairy tales had led her to believe it would be. She felt her toes curl and butterflies fluttering in her stomach as the jester deepened the kiss, starving her of oxygen but leaving her wanting more. The jester's hands roamed her body, never venturing below her clothes, but leaving every inch of her body tingling while a dampness formed between her thighs. While his hands roamed, he kissed her passionately, his tongue gliding against her own as she whimpered into his mouth. Anabelle felt like she was floating in the clouds, her mind dizzy with an all-consuming desire for more.

"ANABELLE," WHERE ARE YOU CHILD, THE PRINCE IS HERE," a screech sounded. Anabelle flinched at the sound of her mother's voice, pulling away from the man who had been kissing her into oblivion.

"You should go," he said, a sad smile on his face, as he leaned in and kissed her forehead sweetly before stepping away from her, his face resigned.

"No, you kissed me, I can't just go," she breathed, reaching for him.

"You have too, there's a prince waiting for you, and I am nothing but a poor jester. I can't offer you the life Prince Richard can, you deserve the world Anabelle, but I can't give it to you," he said pulling something out of his pocket. With a final sad smile at the ground he threw the small round item to the floor, green smoke filled the area, masking the jester from view and causing the fairies to scatter.

When the smoke cleared the jester was gone, leaving Anabelle with nothing but a pit of sadness in her stomach and lips that tingled, the taste of peppermint still on her tongue.

"I didn't even get his name," she whispered quietly to herself, her eyes watering, a sad frown upon her face.

"There you are, come Anabelle, Prince Richard wishes to ask for your hand," her mother spoke, as the older woman rounded the corner towards her. With reluctance, she allowed the woman to lead her inside towards her destiny.


The hall was filled with people, all of them dressed in their finest silks and jewels. Anabelle had been led to the front of the room where the prince stood with his father, she'd curtsied dutifully, kissing the hand of her sovereign as she greeted her king.

"Anabelle, we thought you'd fled," he laughed.

"No my lord," she responded her head bowed low, her cheeks flushed.

"My son has a very important question for you," the king said, patting his son on the back good-naturedly. She nodded, her mouth dry, she'd known this moment was coming, had known it for years. King Tomas moved away from the pair, taking a seat in an ornate throne as his heir knelt before her on one knee.

"Miss Anabelle Knight before this congregation of our nation will you accept my proposal, will you marry me, joining our households together and help me to rule over the Twelve Kingdoms as we fulfil our duty to our families," Prince Richard asked.

Anabelle looked down at the fair-haired prince, who spoke of duty but not of love, feeling overwhelmingly disappointed. She wanted passion and romance, spontaneity; she didn't want this predetermined life. Her eyes moved from the man before her who had begun to fidget uneasily, scanning the crowd of on lookers until her dark eyes eventually settled on a hazel pair that made her belly flutter and her heart sing.

"No," she spoke firmly, "I'm in love with another," she responded, as gasps rang out around them. Ignoring all those around them she ran towards the redheaded man and kissed him, her arms locking around his neck as he closed his arms around her in a warm embrace, kissing her eagerly in return. Anabelle didn't want to be queen or a princess, she was content to turn her back on everything the royal family had to offer for a life with the love of the royal jester.