From the Eyes of a Princess

The starlight lingered among the whitecaps and waves, glittering like gems in the surf. Gulls called distantly and the roar of brackish water barely reached her as the waves slammed against the stone pillars of the harbor. Air hung thick with the scent of sea salt, though there was no lazy breeze wafting from the ocean. The night was moonless, dark and somehow more still than it should be. It was calm…uncanny.

Eyes shifted towards the dark castle grounds, but her gaze lost focus somewhere between the cobblestone pathways and the balcony of her bed chamber. Absently, she crossed to the other side of the balcony; she couldn’t see beyond the city walls in the velvet cover of night, but she could imagine the rolling hills of grassland, the forest further beyond…the sharp angles of the mountain peaks as they jutted towards the glittering indigo sky.

Princess Alessandra heaved a quiet sigh as she leaned against the balcony railing. Smooth stone chilled her arms despite the thin layer of fabric from her nightgown, and she shuddered absently as goose flesh crawled across her skin. Beyond that mountain pass, people suffered. Mothers wept the slaughter of their children, men died trying to protect them; that was the nature of war, she knew.

That was her mother’s doing.

In the two years since her father’s passing, the queen had become “erratic,” as her tutor, Professor Westwood, called it. To Alessandra, erratic didn’t quite cover the change.

‘She isn’t even my mother anymore…’ she thought to herself. Alessandra thought about those stormy nights as a young girl, when the queen would comfort – even caudle her. Her melodic hums that drowned out the howls of wind against the stone walls of the castle, that seemed to harmonize with the rain as it pelted the window. She’d once been kind, warm-hearted…

Now, she was just another tyrant; she had a thirst for power – a lust for it. Alessandra didn’t know when exactly the war had started. She’d learned of it after the fact – after the slaughter of innocent had already taken place. When she’d overheard her mother and the general discussing the defeat of their neighboring kingdom…. Alessandra’s heart leapt as she recalled the grief, the confusion, and the fury that shook her that day.

And then, days later, she’d heard the unthinkable.

“In order to gain the power that you seek, you must sacrifice the blood of someone dear to you,” he’d told her. She’d never seen the man before – a lean and limber man with sleek silver hair that seemed to dance when he moved.

“With this potion, I won’t need an heir,” her mother had replied coolly. Ice prickled in Alessandra’s veins as she recalled the coldness of her mother’s words, how quickly she’d accepted the murder of her daughter. Heat stung her eyes, and she blinked back the tears.

Trembling hands gripped the pillar beside her, and bare feet found the smooth stone railing. She leaned against the pillar, griping it tightly. A soft sob escaped her as she considered the option. If she was doomed for death, why not end it now? Prevent her mother from creating whatever magic the stranger was convincing her to concoct? Perhaps…the rest of the kingdoms would be better off that way…

Alessandra’s gaze drifted downward to the stone path below her. The drop would kill her, of that much she was certain. Wind bristled as the world came to life around her, the sea breeze caught in the fabric of her night gown so that it billowed around her. She swallowed hard, imagining what it might feel like falling, the wind tearing around her and plummeting down…down... Would it hurt when she met stone?

“Don’t do it.” Though gentle and kind, the words startled her; Alessandra whirled, gasping as she felt the railing slip from beneath her foot; for a moment, she was falling. Then suddenly, she felt the supple fabric of gloved hands wrapping around hers and gracelessly yank her back to the balcony. She crumpled to the marble floor, and he staggered sideways as he reeled. It was a young guard, clad in the silver suit of the patrol officers.

“That was close,” he said. “You don’t have to resort to death.”

“What are you doing here?” the princess demanded haughtily, as she stood. “Did my mother send you?”

“I-I, erm,” he stammered, and her brows furrowed. He didn’t wear a helm, she realized, as the sharp cerulean of his gaze met hers beneath shaggy blond hair.

“You’re not a guard at all, are you?” His expression shifted, shock spilled over his features, and the color left him for a moment. “You’re a mercenary, then?”

“I think we prefer the term ‘vigilante,’” he replied coyly, and she scoffed.

“So, you’re here to kill me?”

“We plan to ransom you in order to force the queen to withdraw from Redbourne and prevent the treaty from being signed,” he answered honestly, and she turned to the railing once more. Eyes drifted across the palace city, losing focus somewhere between the edge of the city and the distant rolling hillside beyond the border.

“You’re wasting your time,” Alessandra responded softly. The words were solemn, almost sad, falling like a gentle rain over his ears. “My mother would see me a prisoner or dead before surrendering her conquest. Dispatch me now, it would matter not to her.” Silence fell over them, and the blond shifted his weight cautiously.

“Why are you so desperate for death?” the impersonator asked finally, allowing himself to approach the balcony railing beside her.

“…It doesn’t matter anymore,” she answered quietly, a quiver tugging at her words as she shook her head. “I am a prisoner as a princess…trapped here in this world. My father has passed and my mother…isn’t my mother anymore. My fate is set in stone.”

“Your fate?”

“If I still breathe, she will kill me one day soon.”

“The queen?! But why?”

“What does it matter? I’ll meet the same end either way.”

“…Come with me,” he suggested.

“I already told you, she –”

“Not as a hostage,” he interrupted. “I mean join our resistance.”

“Become a ‘vigilante?’” she jested, and he chuckled.

“Why not?” the intruder pushed himself away from the railing and she followed him as he walked back into the dimly illuminated chamber. “Think about it: you wouldn’t just be a princess – you could be whoever you want to be outside the palace!” Chestnut eyes considered the blond. Perhaps the blond was right; here, she was a prisoner awaiting death – but out there… “To hell with royalty. Come with me,” he pleaded again, more encouraging this time, and a smile tugged at soft lips.

“You must step outside,” she said, and his brows furrowed. “I can’t very well go traipsing about in my night clothes.” She gave a soft smile, though she beamed inside, warmth radiating inside her and her heart fluttered as he grinned back at her. He cleared his throat and nodded, and turned to the door. “By the way…we were never properly introduced,” she added, and the blond whirled. “I’m certain you know, but I am Princess Alessandra Charlene Lockwood of Ambervale.” Before she could stop herself, Alessandra gave a curtsy, the movement more habitual than genuine as she bowed.

“Greyson Winters,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if he should bow or curtsy or not, so his weight instead teetered awkwardly. Their gazes lingered for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “Don’t take too long,” he offered as he slinked back outside.

Alessandra smiled to herself as the door closed behind him. Now…now maybe she could find a way to end her mother’s tirade – maybe even help her remember who she was before all of the magic and potions and power… Maybe they could be a family again. Alessandra’s gaze found the open balcony once more, the breeze wafting through gauzy sheers. She’d never been beyond the castle before…but this…this was her chance to make things right.