Friends
In a kingdom ever peaceful and pleasant, winter would start on the princess’ name day. But the feasts did not reach the home of a peasant, as their land turned lifeless and gray.
To honor the hard work of their country folk, the king descended onto them and shared his strong liquor. Citizens would drink until they turned to oak, griping without inhibition as he wasn’t a stickler. The king remembered every carp and every joke, a list of problems to solve so they wouldn’t get any sicker.
Then, one day, the princess was forced by her father to come along, convinced by the promise of a new toy. The whole way she grumbled and remained headstrong, until she got enamored by the farmer’s… girl.
Princess Amora, with hair bronze like chestnut, always stayed by her father’s side. Outside the castle, she would cling to him and never ever leave his side. Until, on that morning right after her birthday, she followed him to the small house by the riverbank. The farmer’s house.
There she saw cows lying in the snow, sheep huddled together, and birds singing atop naked trees. The whole time, she held the sleeve of her father, loath to let go.
When they arrived at the house by the river, the farmer came out and bellowed so jolly the robins sang along. The old friend of the king welcomed them into his house with a warm smile and even warmer drinks.
They sat by a fire, enjoying hot milk and fresh bread. The king and farmer talked for hours, boring poor little Amora to death. But then, for the first time while being outside of the castle, the princess left her father’s side—when, in the corner of the room, she saw the farmer’s daughter, a girl of her age.
Amora walked up to her and asked her name. Jody. She had hair black as the night and eyes sharper than the butcher’s knives. The princess then asked the farmer’s daughter to play with her.
For the rest of the day, the two chased each other with sticks, sled down snowy hills, pestered sleeping cows, climbed barren trees, and tumbled across the icy river. Immediately, they became friends. Even when the sun nestled inside the mountains and night waited by the doorstep, Amora and Jody wanted to go on into forever.
The king had to pry his daughter out of the farmer’s home, the little princess protesting with all her might, no toy able to calm her out of it. That night, when the fathers tucked their daughters into bed, they were told the same thing: they wanted to play more.
“Can I see her again!? Tomorrow—I want to see her again!” went little Jody.
Her father tucked her in nice and warm, making sure no snowflakes would prickle her skin. He bopped her on the nose and said:
“If you help clean out the stables and ask nicely.”
“Ple-e-ease! I want to play with her again!” peeped little Jody.
“Now, now,” bellowed her father. “Keep begging like that and maybe the fairy will come give it to you.”
“Will she let me play with the princess?”
“Snatch you away she will!” roared her father. He threw his arms high like a bear and gobbled his daughter up, tickling her belly and making her laugh and squirm with tears. “She will ring her bell chime and steal you away! Never to be seen again!”
“No! No!” screamed the small girl. “I don’t wanna go,” she laughed.
“Then you better go to bed, little Jody.” The father pinched his daughter’s little nose.
Night turned to day.
Winter turned to spring.
Time went by like a burning candle. Each year, when the princess’ name day passed and snow befell the land again, the king would visit the farmer’s house. And every time, Amora went along.
She would reunite with Jody, and then they spent the entire day together. When they were kids, they fought snow trolls and poison imps. When their tenth winter passed, they waged a snowball war and rode the biggest cow. When they grew into young ladies, they galloped through the forest with the kingdom’s fastest horses and explored a cave for the hidden treasure of a long dead baron. When adulthood stood close before them, they fled far away, past the forest and up the mountains, to be alone and sing to each other until the sun disappeared behind their backs.
Every year, their bond deepened. Friends they were always, but with each passing thought, cherished memory, and buried fantasy, something more grew in their blind hearts.
Then, on the princess’ nineteenth name day, a message was sent to all the households of the entire kingdom, coming directly from the king.
’To any noble son yet unmarried.
From the day of our next full moon, to one month after, you are granted a full stay inside our castle walls. In this brief time, you may bring your best nature before the royal eyes. The last evening bell will ring, and if our dear princess finds you fair, she shall ask your hand in marriage.
Love be returned.’
“What is this?” demanded the princess. In her hand, she held one of the letters.
“Our compromise,” answered the king. “I have given you enough time to find a suitor. But seeing as you won’t, I had to force the matter.”
“You promised I would get to choose,” yelled Amora.
“And you do. Count yourself lucky, no other princess in the entire realm gets to be doted on by so many men.”
“I don’t want to marry them like this.”
“You will and that is final!” Despite the king’s harsh words, it always pained him to see his daughter so saddened. “At your age, your mother was the happiest she had ever been. Marriage is something beautiful my dear. You, our little princess, were and still are the biggest joy in our world. I want the same for you, to live your best life.”
The king touched her cheeks, like he would when she was little. It warmed her heart and made her feel loved.
“Will you do that for me?”
“I will… father,” acquiesced the princess.
“Tomorrow at noon. All the suitors will gather in the courtyard. You may peek a glimpse at them through the window. Would one of them not suit your tastes, I can certainly arrange for them to… leave early.”
“I shall see and tell you if I do.” With her age, the princess had learned how to deliver a successful lie in front of her father, and this was one such occasion. She held no intention in her heart to watch the men’s arrival. After all, the king would never let her send all of them away.
And thus, the castle bells rang when the sun hung highest. Their front doors opened to the rest of the kingdom. In total, thirteen suitors entered, both lowborn and highborn. They wore their prettiest smiles, rode in on their strongest horses, and carried along their smartest wit.
Every man brought with them a gift to woo the princess. Ones from rich houses delivered flowers of exotic colors, wines from far-off lands, or jewelry with the finest gems. Poorer families had made their own gifts: soft robes, woven bracelets, fresh cheese, or a carved flute.
But amidst them all, there was one suitor who had brought nothing. Hair blacker than the night and eyes sharper than swords, no one could recognize to which house this mysterious man belonged.
After the grooms stabled the horses and the stewards collected all of the gifts, did the castle doors slide back shut. The guard captain, one of the most prestigious and loyal protectors of the castle, lined up all of the suitors in a row and checked them one by one. He made sure no weapons were concealed, no poisons were brought, and no trickery was done.
All of the suitors he found splendid, apart from one. The guard captain stood before a man shorter than the rest.
With great spirit he spoke:
“Never have I seen a man with such fair skin. Never have I seen a man with such bright eyes. Never have I seen a man with such clean hair. Never have I seen a man such as you.”
He pulled the man out from the row.
“Because you are not a man!” declared the captain.
The poor suitor, with hair like polished gold and eyes sky blue, got dragged out of the courtyard on false pretenses.
“Have you never heard of self-care?” he baffled. “All I do is tend to my body and I become a woman in your eyes?”
The guard captain did not care.
“The invitation called for sons only.”
“And I am!” cried the suitor. “Son of Beaumont. Brother of Euros.”
The guard captain still did not care.
And so, only twelve suitors remained. They would enter the castle and be invited in as esteemed guests, treated with respect and honor. But one of them—the stranger with pitch-black hair—held onto a frantic heart, gathering the courage to carry on.
The king’s handmaiden gave the men a tour through the castle. They were shown the kitchen, the pantry, the buttery, the chapel, the garderobes, and lastly, the bedchambers. The Hall of Guests went the entire width of the castle, with private quarters lined up one after the other.
Each suitor would stay in their own chamber, provided with a bell to call on a maid. All the men, once again, stood in a row as the king’s handmaid finished her tour.
And perhaps by chance, or fate, the princess happened upon the suitors as she wandered the castle. All of the men bowed in respect to Amora, with one slower to follow.
“Please, continue,” forgave the princess.
The new guests met her eyes, adoration filling them. They stared at her with reverence, wanting only to be seen before the fair lady. But almost immediately, Amora had her sights on another. She swore, with all of her mind and wits, she recognized a familiar face within the assemblage of suitors.
“That be all,” croaked the maid. “Be off to your rooms now, sweethearts.”
As the suitors went to the rooms they were given, the princess held her gaze on one in particular. Her eyes unraveled that person, interested in all the little twitches and kinks behind the surcoat. It piqued her curiosity.
The suitor she watched went through the elmwood door fourth from the right.
Night quickly set upon the castle. Maids cackled inside the oratory. Guards kept watch in the gatehouse. The king went to bed early. Slumber seeped through the halls, placing everything into a lull—apart from the princess.
She had snuck out of her room, slipping through the castle on her own. Amora made her way to where the suitors lodged, checking that she wasn’t followed. When truly alone, she walked up to the elmwood door fourth from the right and went inside.
The room’s guest had not yet gone to bed and gasped in surprise when the princess appeared before him. Amora, however, seemed annoyed. With a big huff—her arms crossed—she said:
“What are you doing?”
The suitor was flustered.
“What is the problem, your highness?” A raspy voice muttered into a scarf.
“Take that thing off—stop joking around.” The princess acted very impolite. “This isn’t the time, come on...”
The suitor unwrapped his scarf and disrobed the coat covering his body.
The princess knew it; sure enough, it was Jody in front of her. The farmer’s daughter, who had inherited the old man’s estate a year before. The new, young farmer had snuck into the castle, in the disguise of a man.
“What’re you doing?” demanded Amora. “I’m sorry I can’t come over, but I’m a little busy as you can see. Not like my father—”
“That’s not it,” interrupted Jody. “I’m not… I…”
The princess recognized the hurting expression of her friend and proposed to sit down by the candle-lit nightstand.
“Why are you here?” puzzled Amora.
The answer lay at the tip of Jody’s tongue, yet she still had to gather all of her courage to let it out.
“I love you,” declared the farmer. “I have for so many winters. Every year, it’s the same. I have tried—I have,” she begged. “I never… I can never stop loving you. Every spring I distract myself, with the farm and… father. Every summer I grieve, knowing my love will stay unanswered. Every autumn I manage to move on, and I believe that the year will be different. And then, every winter, you come to me, we play, we talk, we laugh…” Jody looked up at the princess with every drop of her longing spilling out. “And I fall in love with you all over again.”
The farmer took Amora’s hands. She then spoke her sorrow into them.
“When I read the letter—I couldn’t bear the thought. I’m sorry, I know it’s selfish, I know you... I just couldn’t—I couldn’t be apart from you anymore.”
“Do you want to marry me?” asked the princess. “It’s not even my idea, and my father would never accept—”
“All I want is to be with you,” answered Jody. “For as long as I still can, for as much as I’m allowed, I want to be with you.”
Their heads touched together.
“Are you sure?” whispered the princess. “I don’t want to break your heart.”
“I am,” assured the farmer. “All I wish… is to fill my heart with your warmth, so I can last through the winter.”
They both closed their eyes and bathed in each other’s touch. Then, Amora started to giggle.
“You absolute dunce,” she said. “How long have you been thinking that up? Don’t tell me after I gave you that poem album.”
Jody had gained both a blush and a pout. In the eyes of the princess, she looked like a blown-up tomato.
“You did!” shrieked Amora. “You are made out of absolute che-e-e-ese!” The princess had turned into her usual teasing mood.
“I tried, ok!” However, Jody did not let herself be pushed around. “Come on Amy, here I am spewing my heart out. This is really hard for me, you know that. And… I really am upset.” The farmer’s voice had cracked, making her sound like a child on the verge of crying.
“Sorry, sorry.” But the princess was still in the process of wiping off her tears—tears of laughter. “You’re serious?”
The farmer held her friend’s hands again.
“I want to be with you as much as I can,” she said. “I love you, I do.”
That did not entirely surprise the princess. She knew, somewhere deep down, Jody’s feelings for her were real—but even more so than that, she knew the truth that they could never truly be together.
“So what is your plan? Hang about until they uncover you?” wondered Amora.
“I will act as any other suitor, so we can freely spend time together.”
“Hm-m-m,” doubted the princess. “Sounds delightful.”
“Do you… do you love me too? Like I do?” spoke the farmer with skittish curiosity.
“I…” Amora looked inside herself and found a shy heart. “I don’t know.”
“Would you hate me if I tried to convince you?” Jody had a way of talking that was so simple, yet so daring as well—thought the princess.
“Well… guess you’ll have to woo me like all the others.”
“Have I never before?” The farmer’s repertoire didn’t seem to miss cheek either.
“Oh, you did. Then you threw dirt in my eye, remember?”
“I just wanted to pretty your face up.”
The princess slapped Jody on the arm. It was a weak blow, but with some sense of passion behind it.
“Lucky father didn’t see. Would’ve beheaded you.”
Amora got up. The hour grew late, and she couldn’t stay out for that long anymore without raising alarm.
“Hopefully he won’t catch us together now,” teased the farmer. “No telling what he’d do with you in here so late.”
The princess was surprised by that side of her friend, or perhaps she had never noticed it before. Regardless, that flirtatious tenor caused her heart to skip for the first time. After that moment, her eyes saw a different woman before her.
“Good night,” said Amora.
“Good night.”
“And Amy,” spoke the farmer just before the door closed. “Happy birthday.”
The young lady smiled back and said:
“Thank you… truly.”
And then the princess left.
That night, sleep did not come to the two young women for several hours. The blood racing through their bodies needed centuries of thought before calming down. And even then, they still missed a warmth in their hearts.
