Scarlet

By: RaspberryGirl

Scarlet ran from the common house and across the town square. Tears stung her eyes as she splashed through puddles of dirty rainwater, not caring if mud squished into her shoes or clung to the hem of her skirt.

How long would it take for Peter to notice that she was gone?

Probably never, Scarlet thought bitterly. Not while Rosalind's there.

Scarlet slowed down to an aimless walk, feeling as if the life had been sucked out of her. Eventually she found herself standing in front of her father's shop. The girl sank down by the door, burying her face in her drawn-up knees. She could already feel a cold wetness creeping into her back. Drops of water dripped from the roof and into her hair. A chilly breeze whispered by.

"Scarlet!"

Peter appeared in the street. He looked right and left, searching for someone. "Scarlet!"

Scarlet tried to make herself smaller, but she knew Peter would find her sooner or later.

"Scarlet!"

The girl felt hands grip her and she knew Peter had finally caught her. The young man pulled at her to stand up.

Scarlet yanked her arm away, refusing to show Peter her face. "Leave me alone." Her voice quavered. "Go back to Rosalind." It had only been through the raw strength of will that Scarlet had managed to keep the tears at bay, but one look at her face and Peter would know he'd hurt her.

"Scarlet, please. I'm sorry." Peter floundered for the right words. "I—I just got preoccupied. Scarlet, are you listening to me? Come on, get up."

"No."

"Scarlet," Peter pleaded. "Don't be mad. I told you, I'm sorry."

"Go away."

"Look, let's just forget about Rosalind, all right? What we should really be doing is helping Mar—"

The opening of a door interrupted Peter's words. Scarlet heard footsteps stop and chattering voices fall silent as they caught sight of the girl and the shepherd kneeling in front of her.

"Scarlet!" cried Martha. "You silly girl, where have you been? I—oh!"

"Now what's the matter with her?" the Prince sneered.

Scarlet shifted her position, looking up at the small crowd that had filed out of Ivan's house. Although everyone bore anxious expressions, none of them seemed eager to interfere in the conflict. They watched Scarlet and Peter intently, as if they were actors in a dramatic stage play.

"Scarlet?" Peter's voice was gentle.

Scarlet sighed. Over the years, she had found that when it came to Peter, it was extremely difficult for her to stay angry with him for long periods of time. Already, she was beginning to feel the last strands of her resentment dissolve.

Giving in, the girl stood up, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. "I'm fine," she muttered to no one in particular.

Josephine caught a hold of Scarlet. "Come," said Josephine cheerfully. "Look livelier!"

Ivan, Martha, and the rest of the group began heading towards the common house. Josephine followed, dragging Scarlet and Peter along, jabbering nonsense.

When the town square and the common house came into view, Ivan and the townsmen stopped to let Prince Coren take a look.

The Prince passed his judgement swiftly. "Plain," said Coren, looking unimpressed. "And that tree by the well in the center looks ridiculous. I've seen chicken houses that are better decorated."

"Ooh." Josephine clutched Scarlet and Peter closer to her as if for protection. "You shouldn't insult the tree. Not that tree. Even if you are the Fairy Prince." When Coren only stared at her, Josephine continued, "Haven't you heard the story?"

"No," said Coren flatly.

Josephine shook her head pityingly. "Everyone knows the story. Ivan will tell you the tale, won't you, Ivan?"

"Of course." Ivan smiled good-naturedly. "If that is what His Highness wishes."

Coren grimaced. The idea of hearing a story about vegetation didn't quite appeal to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Josephine answered for him.

"Ivan, what are you thinking?" cried Scarlet's mother. "Of course the Prince of Fairies would want to hear the tale! Anyone who lives in a mushroom palace would want to!"

"I do not live in a mushroom palace," Coren said through clenched teeth. He stalked away, the group of townsfolk following.

As soon as he entered the common house, cheers of welcome greeted the Prince. Bright banners and fresh flowers decorated the place. A long table had been set up on a low platform at the far end of the room, while more tables and benches crowded the lower level. Most of the seats were already taken, and Scarlet wondered in dismay where her family was to sit.

"Your Highness." The town magistrate rushed forward, bowing so low he could have kissed Coren's boots. "This way." The balding man held out a pudgy hand towards the dais. "You, too," he added to Ivan and his family.

Ivan led the way through the maze of tables with Martha guiding Josephine. Peter turned to Scarlet. "We'll talk later," he said. "And cheer up." He edged down a narrow aisle to look for an empty seat.

Whatever you do, don't sit next to Rosalind, Scarlet thought.

Threading through the assembly, Scarlet climbed up to the podium and found a place between Josephine and—most unfortunately—Prince Coren.

The town magistrate motioned for everyone to be quiet and signaled for the wine to be served. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Prince's caravan guards and attendants had reappeared. They were now filing in to sit at the magistrate's table.

"Shh! Quiet down!" The town magistrate was trying unsuccessfully to settle the chattering townsfolk. Making shushing noises until spit was sailing in all directions, the magistrate seemed to be having a spasm or fit. At last, in exasperation, he stood up, waving his arms frantically. "I said, quiet!"

The common house became silent.

The town magistrate cleared his throat, a dignified smile now brushing his lips. He held his goblet in the air. "I would like to propose a toast," he declared, and everyone stood up as well, "to His Highness, Prince Coren for gracing us with his presence. And to this kingdom, Terrallis, of which he shall one day be King. May His Highness live long and happily, rule wisely and justly. Long live Coren, Crown Prince of Terrallis!"

"Long live Coren, Crown Prince of Terrallis!"

The magistrate drank his wine in one gulp. Everyone followed suit.

"Let the feast begin!" the magistrate proclaimed.

In front of the dais, two long benches stretched the width of the room, brimming with platters of food. The magistrate's servants brought some of the dishes up to the magistrate's table while the rest of the townsfolk helped themselves.

"Now, about the story," Josephine reminded. She grabbed a roasted chicken-wing and crammed it in her mouth, smearing the sauce all over her cheeks. "Go on, Ivan. Scarlet, Fairy Prince, listen well."

"I am not the Fairy Prince," Coren said, his voice strained.

Ivan intervened before the talk could take an unpleasant turn. "I'll try to make the tale short." He smiled sympathetically at the Prince, then began:

"Long ago, when St. Jordan was no more than a stretch of grassland, a group of settlers arrived in this valley and decided to build a town here. The leader of this group was a brave man by the name of Jack Jordan, the famed Giant-Slayer.

"Now, although Jack and his followers desperately wanted to build a town to call their own, there was one problem: a dark wood grew near the site of their future town. From experience, Jack knew that the specters of the wood would soon give his people mischief.

"To deal with the creatures of the enchanted wood, Jack went to an old hermit for help. For a day and a night, Jack haggled with the old man, and in the end, a deal was struck. Some say Jack gave the old hermit a cow, others claim he traded away his first-born child, but whatever it was that Jack promised, the Giant-Slayer returned triumphant—a magical seed in his hand.

" 'Plant this seed where your town is to be,' the old hermit had told Jack. 'Water it. Nurture it. After three days and three nights, a tree will spring from the seed—an enchanted tree which shall protect your town from evil magic for all the generations to come.'

"Jack returned to his companions and did exactly as the old man had instructed. Sure enough, everything happened as the hermit had said. Needless to say, the tree has protected Jack's town ever since. It still stands today." Ivan paused dramatically. "And that is how St. Jordan came to be."

"Wonderful storytelling!" Josephine cried, clapping enthusiastically. "Simply genius!" She leaned forward to speak to Coren, her brown hair trailing in her food. "Heed my advice, Prince." Josephine's eyebrows wiggled oddly as she tried to lower them in what was supposed to be a grave expression. "Insulting magic trees almost always leads to misfortune."

Scarlet stole a glance at the Prince for his reaction and was astonished to see the look of interest glinting in his eyes.

"Amusing," Coren murmured. He spoke to Ivan. "Now, about that wood you mentioned...does it still stand today? Is there a story about the wood as well? If so, I want to hear it."

Ivan raised his eyebrows, and even Josephine looked surprised.

"You see," Coren explained, "I'm fairly certain the tale of the wood concerns my great-great-grandmother."

"Indeed?" Ivan took this chance to sneak a few bites of food. "As it turns out, there is a story about the enchanted wood. I will gladly tell Your Highness the tale; however"—Ivan gave a crooked grin—"I beg Your Highness for a chance to eat after I'm done. My belly has started complaining, if you understand my meaning."

"Yes, of course." The Prince gave a vague wave of his hand. "Now get on with it. But skip the part about the princess, the spindle, and the hundred years sleep. I already know it."

"Your Highness has heard the tale before?"

"Only in vague bits."

"I see." Ivan rubbed his beard, a faraway look in his eyes. "Does Your Highness remember the rose briars that grew around the sleeping princess's castle?"

"Yes."

"Very good." Ivan's eyes twinkled. "Now, although the princess's castle has long crumbled to dust, the briars that once guarded it still exists. Over the years, the brambles have slowly transformed into a forest—the same forest that currently surrounds St. Jordan today."

"But what about the specters that lived in the wood during Jack Jordan's time?" Coren asked. "How did they get there?"

Ivan gave a faint smile. "Magical creatures are attracted to magical things, Your Highness. Since the Briarwood had once been under an enchantment, it was only a matter of time before fairy creatures came to dwell in it." Ivan's expression grew solemn. "Your Highness may think otherwise, but dark magic still lurk in the wood."

Someone cleared his throat. "Your Highness." It was the town magistrate. He shot Ivan a severe look, as if speaking too long to the Prince was an unforgivable crime. "Your Highness, forgive my intrusion, but may I inquire as to why you've stopped in St. Jordan? If you've come here for any special purpose, I will be glad to assist you in whatever you need."

Coren looked thoughtful. "Actually," he began slowly, "there is something I want."

The town magistrate's eyes glinted eagerly. "Your Highness?"

There was a pause before Coren finally said, "The thing I seek is a magic cloak. Have you ever heard of it?"

Author's Note: Some of you may have noticed the bits and pieces from other fairy tales mentioned in this chapter, such as Jack the Giant Killer, Jack and the Beanstalk, Sleeping Beauty, and a hint of Rumpelstiltskin. If you got all four, good job!