The King had been sleeping quite peacefully when the door to his chamber hit the wall with a loud bang. This sleep shattering noise was quickly followed by another noise that was sure to inhibit sleep. He shot straight up in bed and attempted to focus his blurry vision on the frantic maid standing at the end of his bed, attempted to discern what it was she was frantically trying to relate to him. He caught only certain words, Princess, mad, and fainted were among the most prominent. And thankfully so, for they clicked a note of warning in his alcohol and sleep weakened mind and brought his attention to control, focusing solely on the young lady in front of him.
"Slow down," he said calmly and authoritatively, "slow down and tell me again what has happened to the Princess.
"She's gone mad sire," said the maid very, very slowly. She did not understand the king. She had been talking slow to begin with. "I heard her screaming from the Prince's chamber. A horrible scream. I thought she was being murdered. When I entered the chamber she stood pushed up against the back wall clutching the sheet around her, and pointing accusingly at your son… her husband. She was afraid of him sire, and kept yelling that he was not her husband, that he was not Prince Jon."
"Well… was he? Is that my son?"
"Of course it is your majesty! I saw him with my own two eyes. Blonde hair, a big man, blue eyes. It was your son as surely as I am my mother's daughter."
The king might have laughed, for he had blessed the girl's birth, and had known her mother as well, but this situation sat heavy upon him. He had grown to love and respect his daughter in law and did not wish to think that the madness that grew in her mother's heart grew in the daughter's as well. "Where is she now Celia? And how has my son reacted to all this?"
"It is hard to tell your highness. The Princess fainted… and your son simply looked at her as if he did not know her, then walked out of the room and into the dressing chambers. Sire, I fear something is gravely wrong. I saw them yesterday. I've seen them for the past six months. Everyone in this castle knows how much the one loves the other. They were meant for each other, and yet… today. You must come at once."
"Yes, of course. Who is tending to the Princess? Did you fetch the castle physician?"
The maid's eyes froze, realizing that she had perhaps been quite hasty in her actions, and might have thought them through a bit more. Without a word, she ran from the room as fast as her two short legs would take her.
The King cursed under his breath. Apparently, his daughter in law was still lying in an unconscious puddle on her bedroom floor. Quickly throwing some pants and a shirt on, and discarding his nightshirt, he ran down the hallway to the bedchamber that the Prince now shared with his bride.
The Prince was nowhere to be seen, but he was certainly to be heard. He had found his valet and was being dressed and prepared for the day. Strange. The King had hired the valet with false hope, knowing his son never let anyone help him do things he could certainly do himself. The King had thought the man could pack and do menial chores for his son so that the young husband would have more time with his lovely wife. Apparently not.
His lovely wife lay crumpled on the floor of the bedroom, close to the cold stonewall. The king knelt down and put his hand beneath the back of her neck and her knees, making sure the sheet was properly placed at all times. When he lay her down across the rumpled bed and pulled his hands from the back of her head, his fingers were glazed in dark red stains. She had hit her head on the wall when she had fell.
And his son had left to get dressed. Checking his growing rage at the young prince, the king checked Elaina's breathing. Finding it steady, even if her face was somewhat pale, he stayed beside her until Garmond the physician showed up just moment later. He was a tall, tall man, with long, steely gray hair that he held back with a thin piece of leather. He had a kindness in his brown eyes and about his thin lips that the king had always appreciated. This was the man the king hoped would birth and care for his grandchildren.
His grandchildren. There would be none if his fool of a son was not careful and attentive to his wife! Knowing that Elaine was in good hands, the king stormed through the door that led to the dressing room that adjoined the bedroom to the sitting room in the prince and princess's chambers.
His fat excuse for a son stood happily in front of a mirror, admiring the most elegant suit of clothes the king had ever seen Jon wear.
"Jonathan Jacob Mathew Rembarto! Do you realize that your wife is in your chambers unconscious, bleeding, and quite possibly very ill?!"
Jon turned around and looked at his father with confusion in his eyes. The King could have sworn that he was just about to ask who he was. But he did not. "Father…" it was almost questioning, but the tone of his voice soon changed. "She was being absurd, flinging accusations that I am not her husband! Do you wish me to praise her for such betrayal?" The foreign blue eyes flashed. Blue eyes. His son did have blue eyes. Whom had he gotten them from? The late queen… did she have blue eyes? It didn't matter; his son obviously did have blue eyes- and blonde hair- and always had.
"Betrayal! She is sick Jonathan! And you left her lying in the floor, bleeding!"
"Oh, so she was bleeding. I heard her head hit the wall, but I did not figure it would harm her. She seems to have a hard head to go along with her stubborn and barbaric personality."
"You are a disgrace! What has come over you! You love her! Or you did. Maybe she was right; maybe you are not my son. You are most certainly not her husband." The King's voice raged with unleashed fury. He had never been disappointed in his heir. The boy had always been a man to make his father proud. But now…
Fear danced in the pale weak eyes of the man Elaine knew could not be her husband. Desperation glinted there with waves of maliciousness. That single fact should have told the king that the man before him was an imposter, if the King's mind was not being so stubborn in insisting that this blonde coward was his son. Confused and suddenly very tired, the king turned and stormed from the room. He turned in the doorway, and stared down the imposter Prince. "I will have Elaine's things removed from your chambers. She will be moving back into her own until you can find it in your heart to be a real husband. Till you can find the courage to be a real man."
Cassius had never before worn silk. He had never before been perfumed and primped to within an inch of his life. His long blonde hair had been washed with scented oils and brushed to shinning and now hung flowing above his shoulders. The clothes fit him impeccably, and the maid, the king, and all the wedding guests referred to him as Prince Jon. So, he assumed, he must be that man. The thing was, Cassius had been quite sure that his name was… well… Cassius. He had been quite sure that he had been hired by the nefarious Duke of Wellington as a guard and assassin. But, when one falls asleep on a hard, smelly blanket in a room full of men, and then wakes up rolling in silks and cushions with a soft woman by your side (even if she does jump from the bed screaming at you) one does not question it. Cassius sure as hell wasn't going to question it.
He sat at the head of the table next to a short courtier. The man was a part of the wedding party that was to take place over the next month. He nudged Cassius in the ribs before asking, "Where's that delicious bride of yours Jonathan? If I had known she was still alive, I'd've had a go at her myself. But I guess you're the lucky one who discovered her. Who would've known that there were two Princesses of Darwin!"
"Princess?" asked Cassius unconsciously. "All Princesses have golden hair, princes too if I remember right. Elaina most definitely does not."
The young courtier looked at the prince curiously. The man was acting strange. He remembered the prince from yesterday: a besotted, serious man who never let his bride leave his side. Today the prince was frivolous, and much different in so many ways. Was it his hair? Had the prince trimmed it? Parted it on a different side? No, that was not it. But the confused young courtier just could not put his finger on it.
Elaine walked into the breakfast hall, her head held high, her back ram rod straight. Cassius's eyes followed her all the way across the long room. She was not beautiful, he had decided. The dark curling hair that had spilled over her shoulders that morning was now pulled back tight in a simple braided bun at the nape of her neck. A single silver ribbon wound its way around the top of her head to weave in and out of the dark strands of the braid. Her dark eyes sparked with danger and challenge. She wore a simple gown of deep green velvet that swirled about her feet, breaking the terse and rigid purposefulness of her steps. "I believe we were speaking of princesses without golden hair. I did not believe they existed before I met my wife," stated Cassius, covering the flaw he had made earlier.
"Of course," laughed the courtier, "there have only been three royal children born with dark countenances. Of course we all know that that happened because the traditional ruling houses of Darwin and Caraway became corrupt, and the two heros, King Jacob and King Richard defeated them and were established as the rulers themselves."
Cassius had heard this tale. The tale of the only two kingdoms not ruled by the a descendant of the great emperor who once ruled the kingdoms as a whole. He had never thought, however, that princes and princesses had golden features because they all essential came from the same blood line. It made sense now though. "So, the two Princesses are two of the dark haired royals. But you said there were three. I seem to have forgotten who the other one is… you know… I don't spend much time worrying about such things. It's beneath me."
The courtier rolled his eyes at the Prince's snobbish words, thinking that the Prince had seemed so humble and approachable the day before. "Yes, there is but one more dark complexioned ruler. A Prince… I think. But… I can't put my finger on a name. Or a face… strangely. I could have sworn I knew them all…" the courtier's words trailed off as he stared blankly into space, trying with all his brainpower to put a face and a name with story he was telling the Prince. Prince Jonathan. Why did that seem to fit there? He looked at the prince who most assuredly did not fit the dark haired and dark eyed description. Looking closely the courtier could only wonder how in the world the eldest princess of Darwin came to married to such an arrogant pig of a man.
Elaine would spare no look for the man whom everyone thought was her husband. How could they not see?
The maid had murmured something about madness, insanity. Elaine knew it was not so. She knew the man she had fallen asleep with and the man she had woken up with were as different as night and day, and not just physically. If her Jon had been here, she would not be walking across the breakfast hall, watching him from the corner of her as he flirted with golden haired princesses and bellowed at bad jokes at the top of his lungs. She would still be in bed with the man who loved her, or perhaps riding together across some field, or dreaming lazily beneath a tree. She would not be watching his shoving food into his mouth so fast she was sure there would soon be none left for weeks to come.
She was not hungry. She had other tasks and matters on her mind. She swept the black cloak she had draped across her left arm around her shoulders and pulled up the hood as she stepped out the large front doors of the White Castle of Caraway. In no time, she had the young stable hand busily at work readying her horse, his only payment one of her smiles, which he found rather strained today.
The horse was pure white, a gift to her from Prince Jon. A granddaughter of his horse Wilson, he had told her as he lifted her gently onto the mare's back.
"Maya," she whispered to the mare, "something is wrong." As she swung her leg over the horse's strong back, she grumbled aloud to anyone who might be listening, "I thoroughly dislike magic sometimes."
She sped off into the forest in the general direction of the village. She and Jon had spent much of the last six months riding. Since most of her time had been spent at princess lessons with that pain of a tutor Lord Rogers, she hadn't spent much time with her betrothed. That is, until Prince Jon and Elaine reminded the red headed tutor that the future queen barely knew how to ride, was rather afraid of it actually, a result of a riding accident and a runaway horse. So he became her tutor for two hours everyday.
Elaine smiled as she remembered it.
And then was almost toppled off her horse.
"Elaine!" yelled the man who her horse was charging straight towards. She stopped the horse right as the man jumped out of its path.
"Damian! Are you all right?" she jumped off of her horse and ran towards the old wizard. "I was just coming to see you! Oh I'm so glad to see you. You have no idea!" She threw her arms around the old man, who happened to be frowning, and put her face in his shoulder, finally bursting into the tears she had stubbornly pushed to the side all day long.
Damian pushed her to arm's length and used two fingers to push her face up to look at him. "You should not be out and about. King Jacob sent me a message, I was just on my way to the castle to see you."
"I know what he's told you. He's told you I've gone mad. But I haven't Damian, I know I haven't. Surely you know I haven't, don't you Damian?" There was something in his eyes, in the down-turned corners of his mouth that made her question him.
"He told me, young girl, that you fainted, and had a head injury." Damian lifted his other hand to feel the back of her head. "There is a definite bump, and it still bleeds," he exclaimed as he pulled his discolored hand away from her hair. "Come, I must take you back to the castle."
Elaine pushed out of his commanding embrace and took several steps away from him. "Damian! You must listen to me! I don't care about the bump on my head! I don't care about the dizziness or the headache, or about the blood. That will heal. I care about the pain here," she said as she beat the center of her chest with a tightened fist. "This hurts Damian. It bleeds. I must find Jon. There is some evil magic at work here, there must be, and you are the only one I can think of to help. Please Damian… please." The girl sunk to the leaf strewn forest floor in a puddle of tears and gasps. Locks of her dark hair had escaped the well-worn bun at the nape of her neck and hung lifelessly about her pale and tear stained face.
Damian stooped beside her, rubbing her back and pulled her to stand against him. Just as his walking stick had eased the pain in her leg six months ago, so to the support he gave her this day eased the pain in her soul. "I will listen to you Elaine, but you must go back with me to the castle. Once you are well, and safe, I will listen to all you have to say. I know you are not insane my dear. We will fix whatever is the problem."
She tried to speak, to argue the matter, to scream maybe, but he silenced her and helped her onto Maya. As he led the horse out of the forest and back toward the castle, he stilled her mind and pushed her into an unnatural sleep he knew she would not easily forgive him for.
The dreams were worse this time. They were inescapable because she could not will herself to wake. She was trapped once again in a never-ending sleep. Only this dungeon was a devoid of all light, all sound, all feelings except for those of darkness. That's what the place was: darkness.
And then there was an opening, a rent in the darkness that surrounded her. It was not a crack of light, merely a strand of lighter black, a dark gray that offered dim and bleak hope. But hope nonetheless.
Then her eyes were open. She sat up immediately, eyes wide, and pushed all the way back against the head board of the great bed. Damian stood in front of her, as did King Jacob and Garmond the castle physician. She stared Damian down. "You will listen to me. I am in bed, I am safe, and though I've not been well for the dreams you knew would plague me while I slept, I am well enough now with daylight streaming in through the window. As well as someone can be with three fearsome men scowling down as them." She scowled back in return. The king and Damian looked toward Garmond for an assessment of the princess's health.
"Well," said he, "she sounds as if she could battle an army, though I would not recommend it. A day or two of bed rest and her confusion in certain matters should be cleared away." Noticing that the scowl on Elaine's face seemed to deepen at his words, he made a hasty retreat. "I have other duties to attend to your majesty, and really, Damian is more suited to deal with matters regarding the princess's health. She is in his capable hands."
As he closed the door behind him, Damian pulled up two chairs to the side of Elaine's bed. Both he and King Jacob sat, the king taking his daughter in law's hand and rubbing a thumb reassuringly over the back of it. "Tell us what ails you sweetling," he cooed as if talking to a frightened child.
"I did indeed promise to listen Elaine, and if you are ready to talk, I will surely give you my full attention." Elaine saw worry and love in the eyes of the two aged men, and gained faith in her story by the way the king's eyes reminded her of her Jon's. She was not crazed. Her real husband would look similar to the man before her in twenty years time.
"I went to sleep with you son, with Jon, and woke up to a stranger. Surely you two can see it. Surely you two feel it as I do, though everyone else seems to be under a blasted spell of some sort, surely you two, who know the prince as well as I, know that that man is not he!"
"He is… different today," spoke the king truthfully if somewhat hesitantly, "than he has been. But… being married can change a man."
"Change a man who has risked his life to save me into a man who went to get dressed after I fainted from shock and hit my head on the wall? No, marriage cannot change a man in that way."
"He did what?" exclaimed Damian. "Why would the boy do such a thing? No, I cannot believe that he would, not knowing the way he feels for her!" he said to the king.
"Nor could I believe it Damian. But I saw it for myself. Poor Elaina lying in a mess on the floor, her head bleeding, and my ignorant block of a son primping in front of his mirror smelling of roses. But… that was my son standing there."
"No!" yelled Elaine, "Do you not know what your own son looks like? He is tall and handsome with the deepest black eyes and the softest black hair. He has a devilish smile and strong arms. He looks nothing like that swine that is parading as Prince Jon, who everyone for some unbelievable reason believes is Prince Jon!"
Both men exchanged worried looks. Damian pulled King Jacob from his chair and out of the room, leaving Elaine to contemplate their rudeness and secret words.
"She is indeed sick Damian. She has deluded herself into thinking that Jonathan is a man he is most certainly not. Why, Jon has never been strong a day in his life. Although, until today, I thought him a good man, a decent man. But that is not important in her matter. What is to be done Damian? She refuses to believe he is her husband, and her husband refuses to acknowledge her as a wife."
"What do you mean?"
"I asked him to come to her, to show her that he is the man she loves, and who loves her. But he won't. He said that he would much rather be flirting with the pretty little blonde countess whose husband was so old as to die any moment. I ask you, does that sound like Jonathan?"
"No, indeed it does not. And if this is the way he is treating his bride, I can easily understand why she has deluded herself. Send Jon to me in Elaine's room. I wish to speak with him, and for them to speak together. Leave us now, I will talk to her alone."
The king turned to walk away but Damian stopped him. "Oh, and tell him I will not take no for an answer. If the boy knows what is good for him, he'll be here immediately." The king nodded his agreement, making up his mind to drag his son to the side of his sick wife if he was forced to.
"So," began Elaine as Damian reentered the room, "what is to be the verdict. Am I insane?"
"You've always had a strong mind Elaine. That is why I cannot believe so readily that you have sunken into madness. Answer me this question. Is there anything other than appearance that signifies to you that this is not Jon?"
"Yes," she said quickly and confidently. "Since the moment we met, our souls… clicked. They knew each other. They sparked off one another. I fought it of course, I feared it, but it was undeniably there. And the dreams. They've plagued me ever since I was under the sleep enchantment for three whole days. The only thing that has ever given me peace at night is lying by his side. I slept wonderfully last night, the best sleep I've had since that little adventure half a year ago.
"But this morning was different. A cold feeling, a dream seeping into the warm protection of my mind, awaked me. I forced myself awake and knew before I even opened my eyes that things were wrong. And then opening my eyes was like opening them to a living nightmare. The feeling that descends upon me while in my dreams has stolen into waking life ever since this morning. It will not lessen, it will not let up. If that were truly Jon, it would be gone, but it is not."
Damian could feel the weight of her words, the truthfulness. He knew that there were often terrible side effects to such enchantments as the immortal princess had used on Elaine, and that often, the only relief from them came in the form of the person or thing that had saved the victim from the enchantment. In Elaine's case, it was Prince Jon.
Damian's thoughts were interrupted by the door being slung carelessly back on its hinges. "I do hope this does not take up time. I'm awfully busy the rest of the day," drawled the lazy voice of the imposter prince.
Damian swung her head around to glimpse the man who stood leaning against the doorframe. He was short and pudgy with long blonde hair and narrow, watery blue eyes that held a look of bored disdain in them. It was the same Prince Jon as always. Wasn't it? Yes, demanded a voice in his head, it was. But another voice, just as persistent argued that it was indeed and obviously not Prince Jon. Prince or no, the indifferent look in his eyes did not sit well with the old wizard. "It is you wife boy!"
"Oh, yes, is she with child yet? Or will I have to bed her again tonight? Really, can you know this soon? Shouldn't we wait a month or so before pushing us together so quickly once again?"
"YOU LEAVE THIS ROOM THIS INSTANT! AND DO NOT RETURN."
The man left, scurrying down the hall as fast as his short little legs would carry him. Damian turned to Elaine who stood fuming atop her bed. Though it might have been a comical sight had the situation not been so dire, Damian did not laugh. He gently begged her to reclaim a sitting position, then sat back in his own chair to gather his thoughts. "You are right Elaine. He is not Prince Jon. It is strange, so many memories are confused," he said while shaking his head back and forth and rubbing a hand over his eyebrows. "I have the distinct memory that Prince Jon is a good and noble man, and that you two love each other dearly. But I've also this strong conviction, I wouldn't call it memory, that that man as was seen in the doorway was the Prince! But I know you! And knowing you, I know you would never love such a man as that. The more I think about it, the more my head aches. Something must be done, but what? I wish I could remember the man you say is the real prince. Something in me is trying to, but it's been locked up. I can feel it now. Yes… great magic indeed. Evil magic. But why?"
"I don't know Damian. But I must find out. And if this man is here, then where is my prince? You will help me Damian, won't you?"
"Of course, of course, but where to begin?"
"Well, let's start with this question. If everyone else believes this man to be my prince, then why don't I? Why was the magic not able to touch my memory?" Elaine crossed her legs Indian style under her gown and pushed emotions aside in favor of cold logic.
"Very astute question my dear. Very good. Well, perhaps because of what you are," answered Damian cryptically.
"I'm afraid that will need some explanation."
"We'll, what are you?" asked the old man matter of factly.
"I am a princess. I am Elaine, Elaina. I am Prince Jon's wife. But not that Prince Jon," she ended hastily.
"No, no. Not who are you… what are you."
Elaine's eyebrows pulled together in great confusion as she pondered the intricate differences of such a question. But then her eyes lit up with recognition.
"I am a storyteller," she spoke quietly.
"Yes, dear girl, you are. And a talented one at that. You've always been able to sense magic haven't you, because you are familiar with it from your stories?"
"Yes, I have. I sensed the magic in the enchantress's forest, and the magic about my sister."
"Your sister has magic?" asked an astounded Damian.
"Yes, quite a bit too I believe. But that is not important at the moment Damian. Are you saying that I'm able to sense the magic being done here, and that by sensing it, I was able to avoid it?"
"Something like that. Also, storytellers have a nose for the truth. For all stories, no matter how fantastical, contain some grain of truth. Stories also tell of true human emotion and landscape. Yes, storytellers are very much truth tellers. You see the truth in this situation better than anyone else can because you are a storyteller."
"It almost sounds illogical Damian," said Elaine, one eyebrow raised high above the other.
"Yes, but sometimes the harder to believe something is, the more indication that it is indeed true." Damian smiled, and Elaine almost felt like laughing. They had not figured out a single clue to the puzzle but somehow a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She was not crazy.