Once upon a time in the land of Zinnia, the most humane empire on Wreath, lived a young boy who was bullied for being too fat. He couldn't help it for he was the grandson of the Royal Chef and was beloved by all whom he called family.
Still, on the behest of fitting in, he revoked his passion for food so he could make friends with someone who wasn't as edible as the gingerbread man his mother made.
On days to no end he would run around the village park, picking up trash as ordered by the bullies whilst they laughed at his sweaty and exasperated state.
Then, one day, a change of fate struck him; for the prettiest girl of their village dirtied her hands by grabbing a fistful of mud and threw it in the bullies' faces. She shouted with all the air her lungs could carry in one breath and berated the bullies out of the grounds.
And the warm winds, the golden sunset, the dirt on his face and the trash in his hands bore witness to the moment she turned to face him and smiled.
She stood in front of the sun, hallowing her dark head, and his heart skipped quite a few beats.
All the girls wanted to be friends with her. All the boys brought her flowers and jewels. But she never gave them the time of her day. He too wanted to give her his everything, but unfortunately he happened to be the owner of nothing.
He couldn't give her the deed to his ancestral home (not because he did not want to, but because he searched for it high and low to no avail) and neither could he give her his favourite clay pottery (because he loved it too much).
So, he gave her the next best thing in his life — a gingerbread man! He learnt how to make bread, whip the icing and mush it all together to perfection in a grand total of four days.
And she liked it. She took his gift, instead of all the other gifts, and ate it in front of him. In front of everyone.
That was the day he knew that he MUST learn how to cook and he MUST win her over with it.
Win her over he did, with sweet breads, cream puffs and cupcakes in the first year. They became inseparable friends, completing eachother's sentences and exercising together to burn out all the sugar intake.
Her dream, he learnt, was to be a Knight. Her father was a Knight and she idolised him. In order to be like him she had crafted a wooden sword for herself, a secret only he knew and she would practice in the woods for hours on end.
Her raven hair would shine golden under the patchy sunlight gleaming through the trees overhead. He would sit by rocks, river beds, tree stumps and cave openings to see her swing a sword, aim for a fish's heart, climb trees or light a fire.
He'd cook the fish at the end of the day, collecting herbs from the woods on a daily basis in order to improve their palate and discover new means to better his hobbies.
And she would always smile the brightest while eating. She ate beautifully, hungrily, passionately, making a chef feel like their effort was worth it.
Soon they crossed the milestone of adulthood and her family was hoarded with potential marriage matches. Though his stood out the most for he was appointed as the new Sous Chef at the Royal Kitchen of Awryn Castle.
What could be more better than marrying your best friend?
He knew her secret and supported it, she loved his craft and respected it, they were beautiful together.
She passed the Knightship trials, at the age of eighteen, soon after their marriage and began official training in the Awryn Castle grounds where he worked.
They'd sweat with hardwork in the morning and in passion during the nights. The world was their oyster, their creative souls were flying and their love knew no bounds.
Until a child came into picture.
It was a news rained upon him, quite literally — she screamed at him in an open field while the heaven was pouring its grief.
He was beyond estatic about it but she wanted to keep it a secret. She did not decrease her work hours and he feared for her health along with their child's.
He'd make her better food than he provided for the royalty but she'd rarely eat it with the same vigor as she used to. She feared she'd put up weight and lose her Knighthood.
And she did.
One fall, a slash on her arm and a visit to the physician was all it took for the news to spread. He begged her to take time off but her employer had already replaced her.
Not physically, but mentally.
The chief Knight would ignore her efforts, demand she sat out duels and never assign her any work.
So, she left.
He was ecstatic and he hoped to make this the best period of her life so she smiled and hugged him...but he was rarely home. And she was stuck to a bed with homely tasks at hand like sewing or knitting which made her feel incapable.
Her hands yearned to pick up a sword again. To master the wild and travel the world. Her soul longed to be with her husband but instead she was confined to a huge soundless home without a flicker of joy.
The birth of their child pushed her melancholic soul into a sinkhole of work and joy. She was hopeful again. She had something to do, someone to live for, someone to be with.
Rosalie Fern was the light of her life and the last thread her soul was hanging by.
And it broke when the child died.
It was a common disease, an aftermath of the Great war, which not only took Rosalie away but her mother's will to strive for her life.
He did not know what struck his marriage for he was always stuck in his kitchen, trying to be better, to be on par with his excellent wife.
But one day, he returned to an empty home. All his love lost. And he felt what she had felt in that soundless huge house, a deafening cry of loneliness.
There was single note left on the bed they shared, it said, "I love you but I cannot live like this anymore."
And it broke him, but he understood.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
"HOW CAN THERE BE NOTHING TO REPORT?! NOT A PEEP ABOUT THE WIDOW'S CASTLE, NOT A WORD ABOUT MY QUEEN, NOTHING?! YOUR INCOMPETENCE IS BAFFLING!" The King bellowed, his navy eyes darkened to a pitchblack with rage.
In front of him were kneeled seven knights of high calibre, gulping for their lives. The king's unsheathed sword caught the gleam of the flickering candles placed on the wooden table behind him. The small room was dark enough to not let the Knights converse with eachother through the panic in their eyes.
"T-They seem to be preparing for the Founder's day...?" One of the Knights spoke up, voice barely above a meek whisper.
The King let out a groan of frustration.
"This woman will be the death of me," he sighed under his breath, only to be checked by the man standing in the corner of the room.
He was clad in white with only his face on show, body a distorted funnel made of cloth.
"Please, my sire, do not speak ill, your fate will shine as long as the charm of luck remains close to you."
"For a puritan your trust in a mere charm is concerning," The King raised his head, a wicked glint in his eye. "Why don't you summon this capable charm of yours, let me see for myself how well your claims take ground?" He ordered.
"Why sure, my sire, but what do you have in plan?" The man asked in a monotone.
"I don't appreciate questions, Icarus," The King tapped his swordpoint on the ground and a shiver ran through every Knight's spine.
The man walked out the small wooden door and the King pointed his sword at the throat of the knight in front of him.
"Tear me a piece of your cloth," he ordered.
The Knight gulped, "Y-yes, your majesty," and obliged with haste. With shivering hands he tore his shirt's sleeve and offered it to the King.
"Hold on to it," the King said as he rested his back against the table. He was tall and the shadow casted over the wall behind the knights likened to a demon waiting to devour on their souls. As he folded his hands against his chest, the fabric of shirt strained to keep his growing muscles in check.
The king was young and it showed in his handsome face, lorn by the loss of his wife. There were signs of sleep deprivation beginning to grow underneath his eyes and his dark curls screamed lasslorn from a mile.
In his current state, a party to celebrate the Founder of the nation was not something he desired. But it was being inflicted upon him by his very own step mother, most beloved Queen Dowager of the empire and the shadiest soul he had came to know in the twenty-six years of his existence.
The door opened and a pale child entered before Icarus.
The King hadn't expected the charm of luck to be a literal child with chubby cheeks and a gummy smile, staring him straight in the eye.
The gall.
"Blindfold her," he ordered the Knight. Icarus took his corner again as the Knight tied the sleeve over Lucy's eyes. She wasn't allowed to utter a word unless spoken to but there was a bounce in her heels as she was being confined to darkness.
"Is it done?" The King asked and the Knight nodded and kneeled back in his position. "Good, now say your goodbyes," there was a maniacal smile in his dark eyes as he raised his sword to behead a Knight.
The sword was about to swish when Lucy's childish giggle tore through the heavy tension in the room.
"I'm so excited," she giggled, not being able to help herself. "Are you send me back to mama and papa?"
The King's sword halted mid-air, apparent confusion interlaced curiosity in his eyes, "Why do you think so?" He asked in a drawl.
"This is how they brought me in! I liked being here, it was so pretty!! and I even made friends! But I think going home would be much better!" Lucy held two thumbs up and wiggled them, the gummy smile never leaving her face.
Something about her optimism irked him to no end. He couldn't help the words flowing out of his mouth, "Isn't the castle the best place of the land? Why would you want to go back?"
"The castle is pretty," Lucy dragged, rocking on her heels, "but it's pretty lonely. I miss when moma papa would tell me stories! I love stories! Do you? My favourite is about The Prince and his Peace! You know in which he slayed evil elves every year until he met the Princess and decided that peace was a better option and he doesn't need to prove himself to his father?? Moma told me they're making it into a play! Plays are so fascinating! Have you seen a play?"
"That's a lot of questions," the King sighed and his swordpoint dragged across the graveled floor. "I was never really told stories, but please, do tell me all about the Prince and his Peace. I think the protagonist resonates with me," the King all but chuckled as he took a seat in front of her.
"No no!" Lucy gasped, "The Prince is the coolest! No one stands a chance against him!" She placed her hands over her waist and frowned, "I'll tell you the story just so you can know!"
"Untie the fold," the King ordered as he placed the sword on the wooden table.
A Knight got up with shaky legs and wobbled two steps to reach the child and untie the knot.
Lucy blinked her brown eyes open. It irked the King how even her eyes seemed to be in synchrony with her mouth, smiling and expressing.
"Ah! There's so many people here! I could put a play for you if everyone agrees! I will be the Prince!" Lucy patted her chest and clapped, making the King burst out in a genuine laugh.
"Humour me," he scoffed, his eyes lightening up.
All the Knights jumped in agreement and a knowing glint shone in Icarus' eyes.
That's how, on a warm afternoon, seven knights and a child enacted the story of how Romerius Quill found the land of Zinnia, inhabited by elves and used Dorian Montrose's many resources to wipe out the entire race and confine the few living into the Siofra Hills.
In present day, Lucy acted like a melancholic Prince trying to win over his father's favour by indulging in slaying elves. Lucy's version of the Prince was high and mighty who walked with his chest puffed, head high and slayed evil elves (played by the Knights) with a singular blow.
Of course there was a deep, throaty, laugh attached to the end of every adventure which made the King feel like he was more of a villain than a forlorn prince.
Comically, Lucy played the Princess as well as the Prince by merely switching places and voice tones each time she spoke.
The Knights acted as the tree off which the Princess had fallen into the Prince's arms, the rock on which the Prince sat as the Princess would sing, the animals the Prince would hunt to please the Princess, the bird noises when the Princess proposed to the Prince and the clapping crowd at the closure of the Prince and Princess getting married.
Which was Lucy pretending to kiss the air, recreating the image on the last page of the story's picturebook.
"The end!" She exclaimed, panting, and the Knights all clamoured behind her with big grins on their faces, waving hands to add flair to the ending acene.
"That was good but you're not going home," the King nodded, looking at her small smiling head finally phase into a frown. Then, he merely walked out, leaving the sword behind and a satisfied smile on his face.