The years went by and after twelve years, their daughter, Angelica, was the most beautiful girl in the land. Her hair was softer than silk and the shade of ripe conkers. Angel's eyes were brighter than the stars at night and bluer than sapphires. Her skin was fairer than freshly fallen snow and her smile was as charming and cocky as her father's. She was the princess, and boy did she want that title too. However, it was not the riches or the luxury that made royalty quite so enthralling to the young princess, but the fact that all the stories proved life as a royal to be adventurous, dangerous and daring. Yes, Angel was quite the adventurist and adored danger like a merchant adored his stacks of gold.
She'd leapt over meter gaps between cliffs sixty feet above ground without a speck of fear; she'd fearlessly approached elves despite they adoration with visitors, and listened to stories and songs and music, she'd watched them dance and act and laugh without even a flinch; she'd even challenged a pair of hungry and frightening trolls to a game of chess without wincing at their menacing looks. Yes, Angel had done just about everything people labelled as 'dangerous'. And, despite the warnings and orders and pleas, she carried on being… Well, being Princess Angelica.
One day, however, whilst Angel was drawing a picture of herself leaping from rock to rock across restless rapids, she heard her mother and father arguing. Ella was insisting that what Angel was doing was life threatening, but Char was just laughing it off, saying that if he could survive an attack from his Fan Club then Angel could survive running into a troll.
Angel adored her father. He loved her and he believed she would not be silly with her plans of adventure. However, sometimes Angel felt fear. Not the fear of falling off a cliff, not the fear of being attacked by trolls, not even the fear of being sung to by elves. The fear she felt was the fear that her mother was scared for her. She could tolerate the danger of being injured or being lifted up to heaven, but she could not tolerate the fact that her mother was fussing about her, frightened for her safety. Sometimes, when Angel was about to doing something adventurous and most likely dangerous, she would pause and imagine. She would imagine that she had been lifted up to heaven and she was visiting her parents.
Her wings would fold as she landed on the ground but instead of finding her cheerful father, always complimenting her, and instead of finding her mother, smiling at her and hugging her, thanking the gods that Angel was alive, she would find a horror. A nightmare. She would find her mother in a black gown, kneeling next to Angel's old bed, weeping and refusing to leave her position there. She would find her father next to her, unable to perform his royal duties, rubbing Angel's mother's back and whispering soothing words. And then the sadness Angel had caused would plunge towards her like the rapids she had once hopped over. At that point, Angel would stop daydreaming and insist she would stay alive for her mother. She could stay alive even when she was performing her adventures.
So, Angel paused from her scribbling and crawled towards the door. She silently peered through the crack into the elegant room beyond and saw her father, Prince Char, sitting in his throne and rubbing his head. The next person she spied was her mother, pacing back and forth in front of him, determined to make him see the danger Angel was in.
"What if–" she was starting a new complaint.
"You keep saying 'what if' so I'm going to say: what if not? You have said 'if' almost a thousand times now, but what is the word 'if' if not a word and only a word? It suggests something, it does not insist something," Char explained to her. "And I know that Angel would never put you through any pain you could not live through."
He's right about that, Angel thought with a nod. I've imagined more than once about hurting mother and I would never do that to her!
"She may not put me through that pain deliberately Char, but…" Ella whimpered, stopping her pacing and brushing away a tear, "what if she…" she gulped. "I can't even say the word!" she cried. "What if something happens to her that she didn't mean to happen? We can't stop death, it just happens!"
Angel winced. Her mother's words made her wonder if her adventures were a bad idea.
But daddy wants me to be happy, Angel decided. Adventures made me happy, so mother can't take them away from me without arguing with daddy.
She gasped. Angel didn't want her mother and father arguing on her account like they were doing at that moment. She wanted her parents to be happy and if they were unhappy then she was unhappy.
"But how can I stop them arguing?" she sighed. Getting up, she decided to go meet her friend Peewee, Slannen's half-elf half-giant son. The name was ironic; considering the half-elf was actually due to grow to human size.
The short, black gelding Angelica always rode trotted calmly through the thick layers of trees. His name was Wind Whistler and he was a mustang, broken young and sold to Char at the age of four. Angelica had been six at the time and she could still remember it clearly…
She and her father had been standing in the castle grounds as people led brilliant stallions, pretty mares and gentle geldings forward. Char had been holding Ella's hand and Angelica had been standing in front of the pair, her wavy brown hair in two pigtail plaits. She had held out her hand for each horse and each one had lowered their heads, eager at the thought of such an adventurous rider choosing them.
Horses could sense personalities and emotions, so they had quickly fallen for Angel, an adventurous and determined child with a kind heart.
Then, a man had stepped forward with a short, black wild-eyed gelding, fresh off the plateau and recently castrated and haltered the moment he had been spotted. The gelding had also been groomed and shoed and was around 14.2 hands high. His once wild and tangled mane had been hogged, much to the gelding's obvious distress, and his tail had been shortened to thirty centimetres long. The crazy hair which had once covered his gorgeous, golden hooves had been cut so that there was short hair running up his ankle and then stopping just before the knee. His fur was groomed so that it had a stiff sparkle and his eyes were bright with anger and fear.
In the other large hand, the man had held a 16hh calmer mare with her flaxen mane hogged but had still been long enough to be plaited and balled up. Her forelock, however, had stretched down to the top of her muzzle and covered her eyes. Her tail, unlike the gelding's, had still been long and hung a centimetre off the ground. Her hooves had had no natural hair and her golden hooves had housed glinting silver horse shoes. Her silky golden fur had been groomed but hadn't been stiff with sweat like the gelding's.
Angel had taken to the gelding instantly and Char had also bought the palomino mare for Ella before all the horses who were left were led away. The gelding had had no name, but Angel had soon leapt onto his flat back and ridden him across the landscape. Soon, she had discovered his wild, but controlled, speed and named him Wind Whistler.
He was now ten years old but had not grown and lacked no excitement at speed. However, his self-control had increased expeditiously and he calmly trotted beneath Angel at that moment, his hooves, now without the ridiculous, useless horseshoes, moved familiarly over the uneven ground, following the trail they often followed.
"Peewee?" Angel yelled into the trees. "Are you there?"
"Angel?" Peewee appeared ahead of her, a guilty look pasted onto his face as he rubbed his arm. He was wearing all black and his usually neat red hair was ruffled. He had grown hurriedly and he was now about the height of Angel's mother. However, it was suspected that he would grow to around six foot. "Y-you shouldn't be here," he stammered. "You'll g-g-get hurt."
"No I won't," Angel frowned. She grinned. "You would save me."
"Yeah," Peewee bit his lip. "But, err, Angel? What if…I was part of the…threat?"
Angel paused, musing over his words, before it dawned on her. He was going to hurt her! She turned Whistler abruptly, causing him to rear up as he pivoted on his hind legs, and turned his rump on Peewee.
"Yah!" Angel yelled, snapping her reins and nudging his sides. "Gallop! Gallop!"
Whistler charged through the trees, ears pricking just as two boys dressed in black leapt down from the trees. They stared at Angel, who was smirking, and then at Whistler, whose eyes were also as eager as the rider's. Suddenly, Angel leant back, clicked her tongue and kicked, feeling the muscles power beneath her as Whistler pounced and flew over them, landing a meter behind them before galloping on proudly, his hind legs kicking out.
Suddenly, a large bulky man in normal clothes appeared in front of the pair on a handsome chestnut. Whistler reluctantly skidded to a halt as two identical dapple-grey ponies stood on either side of the chestnut.
"I am Samson and this is Coronel and Dancer," the man said gruffly – it took Angel a moment before she realised he wasn't using the horses' names. "You are Princess Angelica, are you not?"
"Depends," Angel replied cautiously. "Outside the castle, I'm Angel."
"Don't worry, we're not with the thieves," he reassured her. "We're here to protect you. We've your…invisible guards."
"Daddy sent you after me?" Angel gasped, wondering if her father really was as carefree as she thought he was.
"No," Samson replied. "We are employed by our herd to protect you and Wind Whistler."
"Herd?" she noticed for the first time that the horses wore no tack. "You're employed by…horses?"
Whistler snorted and took a step back, tucking in his chin and flicking his tail in irritation. The chestnut neighed fiercely back and the greys nickered reassuringly. However, Angel's gelding refused to listen and struck out his back legs, catching his rider off guard. The princess gasped and gripped his mane as he bucked and kicked, slowly moving backwards through the dense forest.
"Eh!" Coronel yelled, kicking his grey – who had a blue wall-eye – forwards.
"Don't go!" Dancer moaned, kicking his grey forward who had two yellow-green eyes. "We were just chatting!"
"Stop!" Samson ordered, and the trio froze. The chestnut snorted, tossing his box-head, and marched forward between the two greys and stopped in front of Whistler and Angel. "Get your gelding under control! We're trying to protect him."
Angel gulped and nodded. "Y-yes sir."
"Follow us," Samson muttered. His right thigh squeezed against the chestnut and the stallion turned before cantering away. The greys fell behind Whistler and, sighing, Angel clicked her tongue and asked her black gelding to lope after the chestnut.
"Ugh," Angel grumbled. "Here we go."
Prince Char knelt down and glanced under the double bed in his and Ella's bedroom whilst Ella searched Angelica's bedroom again. Suddenly, the door swung open and a soldier crashed through, panting as if he had just run across the whole of the kingdom.
"Huh…" he panted. "Your…huh…Highness… Ugh!" He stood up straight again. "Princess Angelica left this morning and rode out on her gelding, Wind Whistler. She hasn't been heard from since."
"Thank you," Char nodded before standing and jogging over the window. "You may go."
"T-thank you sire," the soldier gasped, his lungs filling with air, before closing the door and hurrying down the corridor.
"Why I'll be," Char murmured. "Maybe Ella's fussing finally paid off."