The Kidnapping of a Nasty Princess
It was all for naught, the princess thought. All of it. All the fancy parties and the exorbitant dresses and the lavish dinners with desserts you could not even pronounce or enjoy because more than a bite was never allowed. No, it was expected of her to make rounds, try out all the desserts that were beautifully crafted and created in her honor, or another’s, or another’s. She must leave room for more, always. That was the prim and proper princess of the Court she was raised to be from birth. The piece of the puzzle molded to fit every shape and every occasion.
There was always someone to honor. An endless list of people with titles handed down or earned, rarely earned. The mindless chatter that always occupied the background white noise of the princess’s mind. The forced smiles and conversations she performed by heart. The display of sheer perfection she had mastered. No, it was all for naught—
The princess was jolted back to reality with a gasp.
“Get up,” the man stepped out of the shadows and grabbed a rough hold of her arm. The princess gathered her dress as she was pulled to her feet. The odor of a life on the streets reeked off the man’s sweaty neck. The moonlight lit his features. His cold eyes stared into her soul sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold air brought in by the port waves. A scar ran down his right cheek, from ear to the edge of his upper lip, and a pointy nose looked down on her, huffing and puffing. This man was not afraid of hiding his identity.
That detail, more than anything, brought tears to the princess’s eyes – sheltered eyes that had only seen pretty things. This man did not think the princess would live long enough to tell the tale of her kidnapper. No, she was going to be killed, this she was sure of. The princess was an observant woman after all, sly and cunning and manipulative, and all sorts of traits that were branded toxic by the common folk. She was selfish, she knew that. But could the Court blame her? Could anyone? She was the result of what the Court had raised, yes indeed. She had grown to be proud of her traits, with her head held high and not caring what anyone thought, not caring about right and wrong. She was soft however. Though she was a vicious snake when it came to the art of conversation, she had relied on her Guards to protect her from external factors, physical factors.
The man dragged her out of the covered cart and pushed her towards the ship that awaited in the shadows of the apothecary which took in most of the moonlight. There was an outstretched piece of wood that connected the port to the ship. The man pushed her back again and the princess walked. High and almighty, if she was going to die, she would die with her head held high and nose pointing to the horizon. She stepped onto the board which slightly creaked under her weight. She glanced back at the hill upon which the castle stood. Even here the celebratory cheers could be heard.
No one would be looking for her for a while. It was the King’s birthday, not hers. She sighed and glanced away, taking another step. No, by the time someone would notice she was gone it would be too late. The princess would already be on her way into the seas, to Heaven knows where and Hell knows what fate awaited her. She thought back to the poor son of the Minister of Finance who lay bleeding with a sword to his chest, in the garden maze behind some bushes where they had snuck off to fool around. What a shame, the princess thought, he was incredibly good looking.
She took the final step aboard the ship, which looked deserted at first glance, but she saw the silent steps the sailors of the night took. How quickly yet gently they worked, shadows jumping here and there, gone before the common eye could focus. They communicated silently with gestures as the ship was given a heavy push to the sea. The strange man behind her pulled the board into the ship. Someone, a woman, jumped out of nowhere in front of the princess with a light thud. She wore ragged clothes, a tear in her pants – women never wore pants – and a man’s shirt, one that reeked with the smell of fish. Her auburn hair swung behind her in a messy ponytail. She stepped toward the princess with a smug smile.
“Welcome aboard the Andromeda, princess,” she spit the last word in her face. “You’ll be having right fun here, I’m sure.” The princess heard snickers and whispers around her. The ship started, and the princess fell backwards, too slow to steady herself on the wooden rails, which gave rise to more laughter. For the first time that night, the princess felt true fear take over her body. The ship lurched forward and sailed into the unknown, the castle growing smaller and smaller behind them until it disappeared into the wisps of the cloudy sky.
