Chapter Text
She sighed as her eyes roamed over the last period in her book. It was a small noise, one that probably wouldn't have been given much notice around ordinary people. But her mother wasn't ordinary.
"What is the matter, my darling?" her mother asked from across the room where she sat working on her embroidery by the fire. She glanced over the top of her book her from where she'd laid down on the sofa to read. She knew what was wrong...but she wondered if anyone else would understand it exactly. With another sigh, she picked up her book and looked over the last paragraph again.
"'And as day faded into evening,'" she read aloud, "'Princess Amaretha became Queen Amaretha in the sight of all her loving and adoring subjects, though the only eyes that mattered to her were those of her friends sitting in the back, clapping louder than any others and smiling with a look of pride no man or woman could match. They alone knew the struggles she'd endured, the adventures she'd taken, the perils she'd fought to reach this very place, and if it were not for their faithful intervention and knowledge, she would never have arrived without them. From that moment on, she vowed she would be the greatest Queen her kingdom had ever seen, not for the many, but for the individual. She would treat everyone in her kingdom with respect and love, not as a group of faceless nobodies but as equal individuals, each just as important as her friends-'"
"'And to this day, in that kingdom, a Queen the likes of Queen Amaretha has never been known,'" her mother finished for her, a small smirk on her mouth as she went back to her embroidery. "The Rise of the Queen of Magdelarnia, I read it myself when I was your age. It was one of my favorites. Tell me, what did you think of it, my darling?" What did she think of it? She closed the book and looked over the royal purple cover one last time and laid it over her stomach as she only managed to give another sigh. "Oh," her mother piqued from across the room. "Not a favorite of yours?"
"Oh no," she argued, quickly sitting up and resting the book on her lap. "No, no, it was quite good, an amazing adventure, everything you told me it would be…"
"But…" her mother prodded, never missing a stitch.
"But it's over," she admitted. "I mean…she led this great life, had wonderful adventures, met amazing people and friends…and then it just ends. This book represents two weeks while the rest of her life is summed up in one sentence. 'She did everything she wanted to do and was the best Queen they'd ever known, the end.' It's just…it's…"
"A happy ending," her mother provided. "A happy ending with no more struggles or fights. It's what all good stories are made of!"
Was it? Was it really what all good stories were made of? Because it seemed more and more to her that stories were not made up of happy endings. They ended with happy endings. They were made of adventures, struggles, daring sword fights, magic spells, disguises, planning, plotting! Happily ever after…it was just three words. According to this and every book she'd read, the struggle was worth more than the happily ever after! And yet...
Maybe she was just crazy. Maybe she was just a minority that enjoyed the struggle far more than the happy ending. Not that she didn't enjoy happy endings, they just always seemed...too perfect. Was that possible?
She sighed as she laid back upon the sofa. Yes, maybe she was just different.
"Perhaps it's just that I'm always sad to see the characters go," she reasoned aloud. "At the end of a book I've grown to love so much parting is never easy. It's like saying an eternal good-bye to a friend."
"That is why you must always keep your library brimming with books, my dear girl," her mother smiled. "So long as you have books, you'll never be lonely."
That small reminder put a smile on her face. Yes, that was the one great thing about ending an old book, with each happy ending there was always a new book with a brand new adventure that awaited her before the next "happily ever after". Or…
She supposed sometimes there was no harm in going back to some old friends once and a while. Good-byes didn't always have to be eternal afterall.
She eagerly pushed herself up off her sofa, letting the wooden legs scrape against the floor as she moved to the bookshelf they kept in this small room, their "family room" as her mother called it. It was the place that they all often retired to after dinner for a few hours of peace together before bed. Here, her mother would catch up on her sewing, or singing, or her own reading. Her father, as he was now, stashed away at the desk across from her sofa was writing letters. And she could allow herself to get lost in whatever grand adventure her favorite books, those worthy to be in this room instead of the library, took her too.
She set Amaretha's story on her father's desk to be returned to the library first thing in the morning and pulled an old worn book from the shelf. Her Handsome Hero. If she couldn't go on an adventure of her own, then she may as well tag along as her favorite hero, Gideon, a peasant born to take over his father's unpopular profession as a shepherd. His story was one of valor, bravery, honor, and love as he set off to slay a dragon and defeat the evil sorcerer, Yensid, who threatened his town and Tabitha with marriage. Along the way, he proved to everyone, especially the beautiful Princess Tabitha, that a lowly shepherd had what it took to be more than just a man who watched goats.
"Oh! That one again!" her mother chastised, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "Twice this month, you'll grow tired of it if you're not careful!"
"Let our girl be, Collette," her father finally inserted as she took her seat. "There are worse things she could do than read an old book you got her interested in."
"It's the best!"
She and her mother both glanced at each other and broke into smiles and laughter as they realized they'd spoken the same words at the same time. Her father was right. It had been years since her mother had first read the book to her, and she'd fallen hopelessly in love with the adventure it presented to her. Over the years, books had come and gone, but only this one, this story that she couldn't read without hearing her mother's voice as the narration in her head, remained her favorite.
She glanced over at her parents; her father at his desk, eyes unmoving from the letter he was writing and her mother at her sewing chair, unhindered in her work by their conversation. Suddenly, she had one of the best ideas she'd had in a while.
"Mother," she pushed herself up, gently took the sewing from her mother's hands, and set the book in her lap. "Will you read to me?"
"Oh," her mother giggled, tracing her hands over the cover of the book, "my girl, you are far too old to need me to read it to you."
"I don't need you to read it to me. I want you to. Please, I'm sixteen, how much more time do I have to hear you read me our favorite story."
"Oh my girl," her mother sighed, reaching up and gently stroking her cheek tenderly. "You're right! You're right, of course, of course," she beamed, then took her daughter's hand and led her back to her sofa. Her mother sat against the corner of the sofa, and she happily fit herself against her, laying her head against her shoulder so she could see the pages of the book. Her mother reached up, pushed hair back from her face, and smothered the top of her head with small kisses before she finally took a deep breath that told her she was about to begin.
"'Once upon a time in a Kingdom that time has forgotten, there was an ordinary-"
"Your majesty!" the door squeaking open disturbed their bliss and made them all turn in its direction. A servant. Her stomach flipped over. They knew not to disturb them in this room, not unless it was something serious! She and her mother watched as the boy, only a few years older than her, trotted inside, a piece of old paper folded in his hand. "A scout from the eastern border sent this for you! He said it was urgent!"
Her father took the note from him, unfolded it quickly, and leaned into the candlelight to read it as she and her mother held their breath, waiting for news. But instead, her father scoffed angrily. What was it?!
"This is ridiculous! Don't disturb me with this nonsense! Find that scout and make sure he is properly censured for reporting such idiocy and spreading nothing but fear with his lies! I want his name by morning's light! And find the child and see it's put to work where it belongs!"
"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" the boy grabbed the paper again and quickly scrambled out of the room, leaving nothing but silence as they stared over at the suddenly quiet man behind the desk.
"Papa?"
"Maurice, what was it?" her mother asked, concern in her voice.
"Nothing my darlings," her father growled in irritation. "Some scout claims he saw an ogre in the mountains."
"A child? Again? But Maurice-"
"Not a child," her father corrected. "And adult! Probably had too much to drink. Can you imagine…an adult ogre disobeying our treaties?! If they can't control their breeding, they can at least control the wandering their children do! A full-grown ogre...it's a ridiculous notion, and I'll not have such rumors spread about the castle of all places! If word spread to the people, we'd have a riot on our hands!"
Yes, it was silly. Fully grown ogres never ventured over the mountains, they kept to the little Valley they had on the other side and never caused any problems so long as no one crossed the invisible barrier the mountains had created for him. Their children, however, sometimes wandered over the boarders in their childish ignorance, but it was infrequently because the ogres knew the punishment for allowing their children to do such a thing. The ogre would be captured and sold off as livestock, usually to a farmer to help with the harvesting. It was cheap labor she understood that, but she hated the idea of children, babies even, no matter how big they were being used in such a way. Her father, clearly, had no problem with it. His upset was a little thing; her father hated to be disturbed during their evenings together. Frankly, they all hated to be disturbed. This place was their sanctuary! It was a time they could be mother and father and daughter instead of King, Queen, and Princess. Rude interruptions...they were frowned upon in the castle, but even she knew that it couldn't be avoided entirely given their status.
"Maurice, why don't you put that silly pen down and come and sit with us, my dear. Listen to the story," her mother urged.
"Because Ogre's may not be a threat in this Kingdom, but if our finances don't hold-"
"The finances will be fine until tomorrow, you can spare an evening with your wife and daughter!"
"I'm already with my wife and daughter."
She and her mother exchanged glances. He was with them, just as he was every night, but until he put down his pen and left that desk he wouldn't really be with them. Her mother nodded at her and moved her shoulder, encouraging her to get up. So she did. She opened a drawer at the table and filled her father's pipe before wandering over to her father and placing her hand against his own. "Please, Papa," she whispered, offering him his pipe. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he looked at her.
"Please, Maurice," her mother added, "she is right, our girl. How much more time do we have to sit together, just the three of us, in this room?"
"Not nearly enough, I'm afraid," he muttered, taking his pipe and staring up at her with sadness in his eyes that she didn't understand. "Alright," he sighed after a while, "how can I resist the 'please' of my two beautiful girls!" he joked rising and pulling her against him, his hugs were always the best thing she'd ever known. "All right, Collette, my love," he whispered, moving around her and taking his place in the chair by the fire, the one across from her mother's where he happily lit his pip and allowed himself to relax. "Begin again."
Her mother opened her arms for her again, and once more, she fitted herself beside her, just as before. Her mother sighed, kissed her forehead tenderly, and returned to the book.
"'Once upon a time…'"