The Highest Tower
Episode 1: The Highest Tower
Princess Mary
“Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in a large castle with her doting father, the king, and her lovely mother, the queen. One spring, the queen fell while riding her horse, and though the princess had been assured that the injury was minor, an infection set in, and the queen perished. Upon the queen’s death, the king, desperate to remarry, settled for the first royal blood that would have him…” I began.
Lady Margaery, who was acting as my scribe, cleared her throat, interrupting my dictation.
I sighed and glanced over at Lady Margaery, who had paused with the quill in her hand. “What is it now, Lady Margaery?” I snapped.
“My princess,” Lady Margaery began hesitantly, “Your father waited the proper mourning period, and I recall him holding several balls before he selected a new queen. May I remind you, I arrived at court during that period, and that was when I was assigned to be your hand maiden.”
I furrowed my brow at her, “This is my story, and I will tell it however I please.”
Lady Margaery opened her mouth as if to argue, but then relented, “Of course, my princess,” she said, dipping the quill into the ink and poising it. She looked at me expectantly.
Giving Margaery a pointed look, silently warning her not to contradict me again, I continued, “The new queen was evil to the core, and even the princess couldn’t escape her wrath. The queen despised her new stepdaughter and commanded that the princess be locked away in the highest tower of the castle…”
Apparently, Margaery was feeling contrary, because she paused transcribing and gave me an incredulous look.“Didn’t you insist on moving out of the royal quarters to teach your father a lesson? I recall you saying that you wanted him to suffer from your absence.”
I glared at her. Of course, I couldn’t argue, because she was telling the truth. I was shocked when my father announced his plans to remarry; of course, he had not come to this decision of his own.
The noble men in the kingdom had begun pressuring him shortly after my mother's death. This was not just for political reasons, but in hopes my father would produce a male heir with his new queen, none of them thinking me capable of ruling in my father's absence.
Of course, I didn’t just stand by and let it happen. My father threw several balls, which I insisted on attending, and I would listen to the gossip between the cupbearers and porters and discover who my father fancied, and then would devise a plan to sabotage them.
At first, it worked. My father’s balls became a regular event at court. The parties became so commonplace that the nobles grew tired of them. However, I loved parties and was content to keep the good times rolling. But then one day, I was alerted to the arrival of a foreign princess from the land of Hepatitis, whom the servants claimed had a beauty unmatched by that of the former queen.
I assumed the princess’s beauty was exaggerated. I doubted any woman, commoner or noble, could compare to my mother, who had hair the shade of honey, eyes as blue as sapphires, and cheeks that bloomed like spring roses. Not only has no other woman held a candle to my mother’s beauty, but the noble women from the surrounding kingdoms had been so plain that the noblemen added a talent show to the festivities in hopes of finding my father a bride who would be entertaining if not pretty.
Now I wished I had taken precautions, because I had been unprepared when Princess Isabelle made her appearance at court.
She had raven hair, large onyx pools for eyes, and crimson lips that peaked into a sharp cupid’s bow. I lost my breath as she approached, and I heard my father audibly gasp beside me, and though I had already been plotting against her, I knew I lost the moment she held my father’s gaze as she bowed.
From that moment, my father was smitten, and after a brief courtship, he announced his intention to remarry.
Of course, the kingdom of Muck rejoiced, and though my mother had been a popular queen, I could see her memory begin to fade as the kingdom emerged from its grief. Eventually, it seemed as if I were the only reminder that my mother had ever existed.
After the ceremony, the queen moved into the royal wing, the part of the castle where I had been raised in quarters not far from my parents.
Though my mother's rooms had become little more than a shrine, I was shocked when I returned one evening and found an army of servants removing my mother's belongings.
I had marched straight to the throne room to confront my father, “Father, are you aware that there are servants moving mother’s things?”
My father gave me a weary look as he put aside the documents he was signing. “Queen Isabelle requires a space of her own, and besides, your mother has no need for a room in the castle when she has a kingdom in the sky,” he reasoned.
I had approached him, resolving to remain strong, but as I spoke, my voice began to crack. “I needed her room,” I told him, “Just for a while longer.”
My father glanced at his steward, “Reggie, would you mind giving us a moment?” The steward rushed to collect the documents he had brought to my father and offered a slight bow, “If it pleases King Albert, we shall reconvene after dinner,” the steward announced.
My father gave him a slight nod and returned his attention to me. “Mary, I know you miss your mother, but life must go on. I have a new queen, and soon you will have a king of your own and little princes to fuss over.”
“Not any time soon,” I replied, petulantly crossing my arms.
When my father raised a brow and remained silent, realization washed over me. “You mean to marry me off, don’t you?” I hissed at him accusingly.
My father pinched the bridge of his nose, “Mary, I know your mother promised you could marry for love, but you are a princess, and alliances must be made…”
I gaped at him. He had never spoken like this before; in fact, at one time, he promised me I could remain at the castle my entire life if I chose. I knew his new stance must have been influenced by my horrible stepmother.
I felt my cheeks burn as I gathered my skirts and prepared to depart, “Fine, but I refuse to live in the same wing as the queen. I shall be moving to another section of the castle,” I threatened.
To my shock, my father waved a dismissive hand, “Anywhere but the stables,” he permitted.
Angry, I had marched down the hall, determined to make my father regret dismissing me. I gathered the servants that could be spared and demanded that they move all of my things to the highest tower at the far end of the castle, hoping to punish my father with my absence.
“Princess Mary?” Lady Margaery interrupted my thoughts, “Shall we proceed?”
I glanced over at Lady Margaery, “That is all for today,” I sniffed, “You are dismissed. Please tell Jane to bring me a snack, I am feeling famished.”
Lady Margaery placed her quill back into the ink blot, then stood and offered me a curtsy. “Yes, my princess,” she said respectfully. She paused when she saw the forlorn expression on my face, and though she appeared as if she wanted to comfort me, she knew from past experience that her efforts would be fruitless.
Casting me a pitiful look, she turned and exited the room. Only moments after she closed the door did a deep feeling of loneliness begin to set in once again. Though the desolate feelings were cold and empty, they made me feel justified about my disdain for my father and his bride.
