The Princess and The Pirate

The preparations for the Solstice Ball were always hectic. The handmaidens and gentlemen of the bedchamber all seemed to be relentless in their work as the other servants prepared the enormous castle for the Ball. The unpleasant clattering that rang through the stone castle was accompanied by the sweet and savory smells of a grand feast.

The prince and princess were trying to follow instructions as their Solstice costumes were being tailored, put on, yanked off, and tailored again. The princess accomplished most of these tasks with ease. She was soft spoken and friendly, complementing the work of everyone as they passed. Her brother, on the other hand, struggled. He was gruff and swore with the tiniest prick of the needle. He didn’t appreciate what the Solstice Ball stood for. Their father was finally handing over the crown to Maria.

“Father, this isn’t fair!” yelled León, the prince. He was pacing back and forth in his father’s study, proclaiming that the throne was rightfully his. “I am the oldest!”

The king, a strong man in every sense of the word, stood silently, watching and listening to his son pace and rant in the king's study, clad in purple, black, and gold ballroom clothes.

“That’s not what your mother wanted,” the king sighed, having heard all this before. “The queens hold the power here. I only held the throne until your sister came of age.”

León huffed and continued making his argument, one that he had lost more times than he could count. Luckily, the king was a kind and patient man.

“Son, you will still be part of the court, but you will not be king. That is the end of the matter.”

With that, the king stood up and left.

León stood there, dumbfounded. His father had never dismissed him like that before. His father would rather give the crown to a naive girl who had killed his mother than to him, the dutiful son. León fixed his purple coat jacket and tied up his long blonde hair into a ponytail. If his father wouldn’t give León the throne, he would just have to take it himself.

“Maria! You have another gift from a suitor,” a timid handmaiden called through the princess’ door.

Maria sighed and looked around her. There was nothing but presents from suitors. Since it was announced that she was certainly going to be queen, they hadn’t stopped coming in. She instructed the handmaiden to bring it in and put it wherever there was room, which was close to nowhere. Even the large canopy bed had been used for the gifts today.

Maria took another glance at her crowded bedroom and sighed. She had no interest in marrying any of these men. None at all. Half of them she hadn’t met and the other half she simply wouldn’t entertain the thought of a romantic bond between the suitor and her. Perhaps she simply wouldn't marry. It wasn't unheard of, but the people would certainly... talk.

“Who’s this one from, Isabell?” Maria sighed, sinking into the only empty chair, a small and simple rocking chair her father had handmade for her when she was younger.

“There’s no name. The card is rather vague as well. It just reads ‘You told me these were your favorite flowers when we were young. Are they still?’” Isabell answered as she sat a bundle of violets on the bed.

Maria’s eyes lurched towards the flowers. What a strange thing, to lie about your favorite flower, but she had lied about it for years. She’d only ever told one person that her favorite flower were violets. People would talk if they found out.

“That man must be mistaken. Your favorite flowers are roses.”

“Yes, they must not be remembering correctly… Um, Isabell, could you go fetch me something to eat? I just realized I haven’t eaten all day.”

As Isabell left, Maria grabbed the violets and read over the note. Maria knew exactly who had sent these. She stared at the gifts, deep in thought until Isabell came back with fruits and nuts and rolls all laid across a silver platter. Maria tucked the note into her purple dress and tossed the flowers. She couldn’t allow anyone know where her feelings might lie. She hadn’t thought about that part of her in years. The smell of sweets and flowers overpowered the room as the sun set and the room cooled from the sea breeze. Maria couldn't worry about all that right now. She had a ball to help host.

“Open the gates!” shouted the king. “It’s time to celebrate.”