An Idyllic Dystopia

The princess could feel a painful heat rapidly spread across her chest as the clock struck midnight and her balcony doors creaked open, ever so slowly. She hurried to him, her soft curls escaping from underneath her straw hat, clutching the golden hilt of her sword with one hand and the strap of her bag with another. She paused at the door, and slightly inclined herself to look at the shadow outside. It was him. With a sigh of relief, she took one last look at her room, and edged open the doors enough for her to fit through. She knelt down on her balcony floor and rummaged through her bag for her arrows. She pulled one out, and looked up to find him tying another rope to the balustrade. “What are you doing? I don’t need a rope,” she whispered to him, brandishing her arrow. He turned to look back at her, his eyes radiating the only light through which he could be seen in the moonless night, and confusion. “How else are you going to get down?” She pulled out the second arrow and got up, placing her bag on her shoulder and gently closing the doors.  “Just get down safely, and make sure the guard doesn’t find you. The one on this end,” she pointed to the other end of the balustrade, where his rope had been tied, “is known to shoot the heart of anything he takes aim at.” He stared at her. She sighed.  “Quick, climb down, and I’ll untie the rope and throw it to you once you’ve reached the ground.” “But how will you come-” “Move it,” she hissed. The princess watched as the man slid down the rope and almost lost his balance as he attempted to set foot on the ground. She sighed a fourth time that night as she untied his rope. He was staying close to the shadows, but scurried over to get the rope and rushed back. Good for him, she thought, as she traced the wall of the castle to find the hollow spaces between the bricks. She thrust an arrow into one, and did the same with the second a few spaces beneath the first. She heaved herself, and with great balance, she swayed from the first arrow to the second. Having gained confidence in her abilities, she latched herself firmly, pulled out the first arrow, and thrust it into a lower space. She continued moving downwards at a steady pace, and felt her lips curve into a smile, in tune with the cool night breeze. She sensed the spaces getting smaller, and assumed that the ground was close. She knew she had reached the bottom when she heard a low, surprised gasp, and lightly launched herself onto the soft grass. She hauled the arrows out from the gaps and stuffed them into her bag. “We need to hurry,” she said to him. “If we don’t want to be caught.” “The night couldn’t be any more unfavourable, and I don’t know the way.” She scoffed. “Please, I was hoping there wouldn’t be light. I grew up in this castle. Of course I know the way.” “I thought princesses were never allowed into the sight of even the majority of the guards, let alone the commoners?” “I wouldn’t have climbed down this wall if I was a princess who listened. Let’s go.” The man hurried to follow the princess as she took off silently into the distance. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Queen Annelisse of Oryn couldn’t take her eyes off of her crown, dazzling in the sun’s rays. Despite having owned it for years, she realised that she had never once spared a moment to its acknowledgement. She tried to fill the hollowness she had been harbouring in her heart since that dawn with the luminescence the gold seemed to possess. She remembered her mother, who, very many years ago, had brushed her hair herself, and had told her that she loved her very much. She had told her that the King was a good man, and that he would take good care of her. She reminded her that her marriage was very important for the kingdom’s future, and that everyone’s eyes and expectations would be on her. She had told her to always behave herself. The Queen sighed. Perhaps the princess had not inherited the qualities of a good woman from the mother, for finding her in her room, where she was supposed to be, was a rare sight. The girl had even begun cross-dressing when she was thirteen when she was told that princesses do not wander, and her skills of deception had been polished to perfection in a mere year.  The day the marriage contract was signed between the Kingdoms of Oryn and Nivis, the Queen was fazed by the princess’s silent acceptance. She had not expected her to bow her head in the first place, let alone agree to it without a tumultuous reaction.  The contract was twelve months old, and so was the growing unease in the Queen’s heart.  Everyone else may have bought it, the indiscreet charade, but the Queen was no fool. She did not believe the princess didn’t have anything in that wayward head of hers.  She called for her maid. “Your Highness?” “How are the preparations going?” “The royal family has arrived from Nivis. The prince’s brother has gone up the Cerulean Tower to fetch him.” “What about the princess? Has she been prepared?” The maid hesitated. “Your Highness, the princess’s door has been locked since dawn, and she refuses to open.” The Queen stormed out of her room, without a word. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ As the sound of gushing water neared, the princess began ceasing her tireless running. She felt reassured as she walked into a clearing ahead of her and saw the Lucent that marked the kingdoms of Oryn and Zeva. She rolled her trousers upto her knees and waded into the river. The cool waters rejuvenated her mind, and she looked to see if the man had followed.  She decided that she wouldn’t go back for him if he hadn’t kept up with her. Thankfully, he was there, drawing sharp breaths and clutching his knees. “Whoa, is it your first time running?” “It’s my first time running away.” She huffed.  “Why is a prince whining? Come and wash your face. Cold water ought to refresh you.” The prince didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried over and dived into water. “HEY! You were just supposed to wash your face! Why are you taking a bath when you don’t have any clothes to change into?” The prince rose up to the surface and gave her a cheeky grin.  “I may not have any clothes, but I was willing to bet that you definitely do.” She sniggered.  “Do you want to prance about town in a gown?” She paused, taking a good look at his face. “I guess it could be a good disguise, since you’re pretty enough to be a lovely little maiden.” “I don’t think a princess who escaped her kingdom dressed as a peasant would be carrying around gowns.” She had to give it to him; he was quick. She pulled her hat off and retied her hair. The princess got back onto the bank and took out a few tangerines from her bag. She waved at the prince. “Taehyung,” she yelled from where she sat. “Aren’t you hungry?” He looked at her and yelled back. “Do you have any strawberries?” “What? Strawberries are expensive! I’ve got tangerines if you want them.” “I want strawberries!” The princess hadn’t realised that behind his dignified facade, there lay a spoilt brat. “Hey, Runaway Prince, you can’t get whatever you want when you’re hiding.” “I think I should at least be able to get strawberries.” “Do you want a tangerine or not?” The prince could hear his stomach rumbling, but he knew, deep inside, that it was rumbling for strawberries. He got out of the cold waters and vigorously dried his head. “I’m going to look for strawberries.” “What?” “I said, I’m going to-” “No! Get back here. I don’t know who you’ll end up asking strawberries from.” He narrowed his eyes, gave her a stern look, and walked off into the forest. The princess sighed. If he didn’t return in an hour, she was leaving for the better. She laid down on the dewy grass and placed her hat over her face. She prayed for a good dream. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Theodore pushed away low branches away from his face, and ducked under sturdy ones. He lamented diving into the river as he tried to pull away his shirt that clung to him in a disconcerting manner. A forest wasn’t going to be the driest place, and it didn’t help that he was wet from head to toe. He shook his head once again. The wild strawberries on the ground cover looked luscious to his eyes. He knelt down near them and examined them in his palm. He remembered his father telling him when they had gone to look around the fields, when he was just a boy, that wild strawberries were poisonous to human beings, as good as they looked. He fought the urge to pull them out and pop them into his mouth. “Why are you hesitating?” Theodore jumped and fell onto his back. He steadied himself on the ground and turned to find out who the smooth, yet condescending voice belonged to. A black cloak, holding what looked like a wooden staff, approached him as though it were a shadow. The hood was drawn low, but the prince could see not a trace of a face. There was nothing but darkness in the place that should’ve been occupied by a head. A ghost. He had just seen a ghost. And the ghost was walking toward him. Before he knew it, Prince Theodore was screaming. The posture of the cloaked figure seemed to indicate that it was taken aback by his actions. It stopped moving. The prince was scrambling to his feet and was frantically foraging for anything he could wield as a weapon. The figure just stood there. “What,” the voice asked, “are you doing?” Theodore, in his panic, did not realise that it was the spectre who was speaking to him. “Weapon,” he replied unconsciously, as he pushed aside the shrubs. “…I need a weap-” “What’s that there? On your waistband?” Theodore stopped his search and looked at his waistband. His sword. He pulled it out with tremendous speed and brandished it at the spectre, with a look of triumph. And then his face scrunched into an expression of confusion. “Thank…thank you?” “Ah, no worries,” the spectre waved its arm and his apology away casually, “but why were  you looking for a weapon?” “I thought…But wasn’t that…Aren’t you a ghost?” The spectre seemed to be taken aback once again. “Why would anyone,” it said, flailing its arms around in a confused manner, “assume that I’m a ghost? I have a great sense of fashion!” The spectre pulled back its hood to reveal a mop of periwinkle hair and a bright smile enhanced by the deepest dimples Theodore had ever seen. He couldn’t help but break into a smile himself. “Do you still think I’m a ghost?” “What’s your name?” “Originally,” his tone sounding high - and - mighty as he approached him, “Zephyrus of the Ford dynasty.”  “But?  “I go by just Joon,” he held out a hand as enthusiastic to help as his voice. “What’s yours?” “I’m Th-” An arrow flew past the prince’s eyes, merely a thread’s breadth away from them. Joon was surprised as well, although very less relieved than the prince, as the both of their heads turned to the direction of the shooter. It was the princess, with her bow now aimed at cloaked man. Her eyes looked more intimidating to the prince than the near-death he had just witnessed. “Who are you?” The prince hastened to get up. “He’s Joon, he’s not-” Her redirecting the bow in his direction was enough to stop him from uttering another word. Her eyes were still fixated on the man. “Do I have to ask you again?” Joon raised his arms in surrender, his smile fading, one arm still holding the staff. “My name’s Zephyrus Ford, but you can just call me Joon. I am a…well, I don’t know if you-” “Cut to the chase! What are you?” “I own a bit of land, and I farm for myself in it. But I-” “So you’re a farmer.” “Well, yes, but I’m-” “But what?” Joon sighed, and his eyes darkened. He put his arms down. The princess stared. “Do you mind not interrupting me? I’m trying to tell you something-” The princess’s eyes widened. “How dare you!” She took aim in less than a fraction of a second and released the arrow at him.  Joon’s eyes were unfazed.  He raised his finger, and the prince gasped. The arrow ceased moving in mid-air, and remained suspended right in front Joon’s eyes.  The princess was shocked to the core, but did not let it seep out to her exterior. Joon walked away from the arrow and approached the princess. She reminded herself that she had a knife hidden in her waistband as she continued to give him a hard stare. Intimidate your enemy, her father had told her, before you battle. He paused in front of her.  “Whoaa,” an excited prince’s childlike voice broke the tension. “Joon,” he said, circling the suspended arrow. “How did you do that? It’s really floating in mid-air!” He felt the air around the spectacle with his hands, his boxy smile making a strangely beautiful collaboration with his inquisitive eyes. Joon turned back to the princess, smiled brightly, and held out his hand. “Shall we start again?” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Open up! Open up right now!” The maid stared at the Queen devoid of her composure in disbelief. It was the very first time in three decades that she had been seen so animated, and so unsound. She continued pounding at her daughter’s door. One of the maids attempted to calm her down. “Your Majesty, please-” “Break this door down!” “Your High-” “This instant!” All of them knew to obey the first command the Queen had given in a hysterical screech. Annelisse backed away from the door, her hands clutching her throbbing head. There was absolutely not a shadow of a doubt on her mind. The princess had run away. How was she to tell this to the King? How was she to tell the royal family from Nivis that her daughter had run away from her wedding? The prince. She stormed into the room the second she heard the sound of the door breaking down. At the sight of what lay right ahead of her, her heart stopped beating. The princess was in her bed. In her head was lodged a sword, still quivering. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The princess decided to give him her friendship. “A farmer by birth. But, I practice magic and alchemy. I call myself an alchemist, but many commoners and knuckleheads call me-” “A wizard! Joon, you’re a wizard?” The both of them looked at Theodore, who was staring at Joon as though he were the Universe’s greatest miracle to ever exist. “That.” The prince, half-scared, slowly moved his hands to the arrow and wrapped his fingers around it ever so gently. He plucked it out of the air. “Will you,” he said, hurrying over to the two of them, “please teach me your ways?” Joon patted the prince’s head. “If you prove yourself to be worthy.” The prince beamed as though he was a sun, and Joon’s little laugh radiated innocence like it was the moon looking earnestly over at its angel of light. “But first, you’ll have to tell me your name.” Theodore internally winced. The last time he had tried to tell someone his name, it had almost cost him his eyes. He looked up at Joon with a smile. “I’m called V.” “Alright then, V. Why were you hesitating earlier?” “Oh, because the wild strawberries looked delicious.” Joon beckoned a bushel of them, and it settled into his hand. “Have ‘em, they’re as good as they look.” The prince’s eyes narrowed. “Wild strawberries,” he said, measuring each word, “are poisonous.” Joon looked genuinely confused, even to the princess. “What day is it today? All sorts of strange things keep happening. Whoever put that idea into your head?” The prince scoffed. “Everyone knows that wild strawberries are poisonous.” Joon shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He popped a few strawberries into his mouth, and to Theodore, he looked like was enjoying them quite a lot.  The princess took one from his hand, and relished it. The prince stared. He took the rumbling of his stomach as a cue to lunge at the alchemist’s hand. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Queen stood, staring at the sword that had cut through the white sheets of the bed. Blood. There was no blood. She ran to it and pulled it out as though it weighed nothing more than a feather and threw  it aside. She was nowhere to be seen. Annelisse turned to her maids, her eyes burning like embers.  “Search the palace, I need to find anything that can lead us to her,” her voice betrayed not a trace of fear or anguish. “Let the prince not know.” All of them hurried away, and the Queen stared at the young maid who chose to stay. Her head tilted to a side, she stared at the sword as though it were an object of great interest. “Did you not hear me?” The maid seemed to hear the Queen for the first time, and looked appalled that the she was being addressed by her.  “Apologies, Your Highness, there seems to be something worth investigation on the broadsword.” She hurried towards it and tried to pick it up to the best of her abilities, and was surprised when she failed. She was bewildered by how she couldn’t lift it, while the Queen, who was so fragile, could. Annelisse had walked over to the maid’s side without her ever knowing it, and seeing her  reach for the sword startled her. “That’s a Zweihänder, not a broadsword,” she ran her hand across the blade and turned it around. On the other side was a careful inscription. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “V?” He turned to look at the princess. “There is no V anywhere in your name. How and why did you come up with that?” “V stands for the ‘v’ in the name Vera.” “Who’s Vera?” “The woman I love.” His eyes lost a little of the sparkle they had. “Loved.” The princess decided not to ask him anything. Instead, she turned her attention to Joon,  who was perhaps ten spaces ahead of them, looking as though he was talking to himself. He looked merry nevertheless, his gestures vivacious. “How much longer till we get there?” “We’ll be there in a minute, just follow me. I mean,” he shouted back to her, “I know my way home, princess. Maybe trust the only guy you know in a forest a little?” The princess questioned her choice. Was a marriage to the harlequin walking beside her truly that bad? She glanced at him. He was staring up at the sky through a little tinted glass he had and was smiling. She decided that surrounded by two ignoramuses was better than being married to one.  Joon had stopped walking and was standing in a dry, circular patch in the midst of forest grounds covered in wild grass. “Welcome to my haven! Make yourselves at home,” he said, sounding cheery as the daisies that were in a neat circle along the circumference of the patch. Before the cynic could say anything, Joon tapped his staff on the clear ground and smiled. As though a veil was being lifted from the top, bricks began coalescing at the bottom. Defined by a line of what seemed to be white little sparks, the house seemed to grow as it showed itself.  V’s eyes remained expanded as a brown little cottage sat in the previously empty patch, now prettily encircled by the flowers that had clearly been tended to. “Nice disguise, don’t ya think?” “Not really,” the princess said, in an irritatingly nonchalant tone. “The daises are blatantly obvious if the empty patch doesn’t give it right away. Why would a farmer need to hide his home anyway?” “I think,” V chimed in, bubbling, “that’s a fabulous disguise. I couldn’t tell!” Joon beamed, and the princess hid her face in her hands. “Come on in, then. It’s a cozy little place, my home.” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The shadow felt its way through the hallowed halls of the Stygian tunnel, feeling anticipation raise its ugly head in its chest. It had done what the contractor had wanted it to do, as much as it didn’t feel right. But it couldn’t care less anymore. It would be receiving what it needed, now that it had done the contractor’s work. The tunnel ended into a dimly lit room, and the killer was grateful. He would need all the light he could get.  The contractor’s expression was just as detached as it always had been, which confused the killer. He was always poised, but when he talked of his mission, he would become animated. The killer had expected that he would have at least the glint of satisfaction in his eyes once he had accomplished his task.   But it was nowhere to be seen. “You,” the man snarled at him as he saw him approach. “You couldn’t kill a single girl.” The killer stopped in his tracks. “What,” he said, slowly, measuring his every word, “are you talking about? I drove the sword into her head with my own hands.” “You imbecile, the girl wasn’t in her bed at all.” His calm voice grew into a roar, “How could you not notice?!” The killer now understood why the princess had seemed so still when he was nearing her bed, and when he was killing her. He corrected himself in his mind. He hadn’t killed anybody. His heart eased. The contractor sighed. “Just go do it again,” he waved the killer away, looking resigned. “And kill the boy as well this time.” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Ortum imperii. The rise of an empire. This wasn’t the work of the princess. She had run away, yes, but she hadn’t placed the sword there. The Queen twisted and twirled the sword in movements familiar to her arm, feeling the weight of the elegantly done weapon.  This was the work of a conspirator. Before her mind could map out anything else, she heard the frantic breathing of a maid as she rushed into the room, hurrying to her. “Your Highness,” she struggled, drawing short breaths. “The prince! He is nowhere to be found!” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________