There once was a little girl who
lived in a fairy castle. Her parents were servants, her grandparents were
servants, her great-grandparents had been servants, as it had always been, and
she would be a servant, as it would always be.
All the palace children were
allowed to play, wild and free, when their chores were through, playmates for
the two young princes who ruled the little troupe as, one day, they would rule
the kingdom.
The elder was a bright boy, tall
and solid and golden. His hair was the color of the crown that would one day
rest upon it, and his eyes were the deep sapphire of the kingdom’s deep,
perfect harbors. He was loud and boisterous, and his face was an open book.
The younger was both darker and
more pale, as though living in his brother’s shadow had affected the color of
his skin; his hair was the color of perfect darkness. He was quiet, the younger
prince, but full of mischief, and he liked nothing better than playing pranks.
One night, the golden prince was
restless, so he pulled his brother from his bed and announced that they were
going on an adventure.
For a while, the dark prince was
able to keep his brother entertained with the simple magic tricks that came
quite naturally to the younger boy, but that the elder could hardly grasp.
Soon, however, the golden one grew annoyed with his brother’s games.
Eventually, the princes made their
way into the kitchens, bored and spoiling for trouble. At that time of night,
the kitchens were all but deserted. Only the little girl was there, scouring
pots and pans.
She knew that if her work wasn’t
finished by morning, she would be beaten soundly for it, but the elder prince
commanded that she join their game. How could she argue? He was the future
king, and she was just a kitchen girl. So, she reluctantly agreed.
The girl and the dark prince,
between the two of them, were able to entertain the elder boy for a while
longer, but he was in an ill temper, and he demanded more of his brother’s
ability.
Suddenly, the darkened kitchen was
bathed in blue-white light, and a small circle hung before the children, just
above the floor, like a window or an open door. Through it, they could see
stars; it was as though they had opened a door to the heavens.
For several long moments, they
simply stared at it in awe. The dark prince was shocked at his newfound
ability. The girl was afraid, whimpering, and begging that they close it before
they were discovered. The elder prince was impressed, curious, and jealous of
his brother’s power.
After the initial shock, the golden
one decided that this could be the beginning of his greatest adventure, but he
was afraid, too. He demanded that the girl go through the portal.
His two companions were more
shocked by his command than by the portal. The girl fell to her knees and
begged, pleaded for her life. The dark prince tried to reason with his brother,
to distract him, to convince him that it was a bad idea.
But their pleas only made the
golden prince angry. He snatched up a knife from a table, grabbed his brother
and threw him down, and pointed the blade at the girl’s throat.
Slowly, she backed toward the
portal, weeping, appealing to the younger prince for help. He, too, pleaded
with his brother, but the golden-haired prince just kept pushing the girl
toward the portal until she was right up against it.
Finally, she could feel the static
of the magic reaching out to her. She turned to face it, to stare into the
abyss. The knife pressed into her back, still pushing her forward.
Tears running down her face, she
looked back one last time. She met that cruel triumphant blue eyes in the
golden face and looked away. Instead, her locked with the pale blue eyes full
of fear, of pain, of regret, powerless to help and broken because of it.
She stepped across the threshold, and for a
moment, she thought perhaps nothing bad would happen after all. She turned,
eyes still locked on the dark prince.
Then, she fell.
