The Alean Palace has never seen this much activity. The courtyard is filled with coaches belonging to a variety of noble houses, and even foreign kingdoms, their passengers climbing marble steps to the palace as servants trail behind them.
Outside, the people gather at the gates, trying to get a view of the rarity that is this many important figures in one place. What could possibly be the occasion? A wedding? A funeral?
As the dignitaries and nobles enter the main hall, they are greeted by the palace staff, offering food and rest after their long journeys, but the offers are refused, for that is not why they have come.
The staff nod and bid the visitors follow them. Servants are dismissed, and the guests are led down corridors lined with portraits of past Alean rulers, austere faces looking down at them through the ages.
They arrive outside the doors of the throne room; their ultimate destination. A line trails from it, down the corridor, and important as they are, the newest arrivals are forced to wait, joining the line of people, some of whom have been there for days.
Within, the king and queen of Alea sit upon their resplendent twin thrones, on a raised dais overlooking the hall, watching as the parade of nobles and princes continue to pass by, occasionally stopping to allow some of them to step upon the dais, where a peculiar statue stands.
It is stone, carved in the likeness of a young woman, hair cascading down her back, her face frozen in an expression of shock. Her hands are slightly outstretched, as if trying to ward something off, and had any of the castle’s staff, or indeed the citizens of Alea, been allowed to glance inside, they would have many questions.
Why is this statue on the dais, space reserved solely for the royal family? Who had carved it? And why does it look so strikingly like Princess Miranda, current heir to the throne?
“Your highnesses.” Lord Faren steps forward. He has arrived at the palace several days prior, and it is at last his turn. “We thank you for your audience.”
“We thank you for your journey.” The king replies. “I trust it was not too difficult?”
“No, my lord. It was mercifully untroubled.”
“Let us thank small mercies.” The queen stands and walks towards the baron. “You seek our daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“My son does, my lady.” The baron bows his head, and his companion, a younger, stern-faced man, quickly follows. “Damien is my eldest, the brightest our house has seen in some time.”
The queen eyes the young man, who raises his head, but does not meet her stare. “You think him worthy?”
The reply is tactful. “Only if you do.”
“And what of the boy?” The king asks from his throne. “Is he prepared for the responsibilities and duties his union with our daughter would entail? Does he ... love her?”
“Yes, my lord.” Damien’s expression remains neutral, but his eyes glitter with anticipation.
The queen turns to her husband, and a wordless exchange passes between them. “Very well. He may step forward.”
A grin splits the young man’s face, but it disappears as quickly as it comes as he composes himself and mounts the dais, walking towards the statue set between the thrones.
“Princess Miranda.” He speaks under his breath. “You will be mine.”
He stops in front of the statue. Her engraved expression of shock is so lifelike, it surprises him. Nevertheless he leans forward and kisses the statue on the lips, then retreats a half step.
He, the king, the queen, his father, and everyone standing in the throne room, wait with bated breath, but as the seconds stretch into minutes, nothing changes, and Damien’s head sags in disappointment.
The queen gives an imperceptible sigh, then declares, “That is enough for today. Let all those who wait be provided with rooms. We shall resume tomorrow.”
As everyone leaves, attended to once more by the palace staff, the king stands. “Still nothing.”
“We must hold out hope. All of our advisers say the same thing. Love will lift the curse.” The queen turns to address the guards by the entrance. “We are retiring to our rooms.”
The lights go out as the two exit the hall, and the doors slam shut behind them.
Time passes. Evening turns to night, which eventually gives way to a new dawn. The hall remains empty and the statue stands alone by the vacant thrones, unmoving.
In the early hours of the morning, just before the rooster is set to crow, a shimmer disturbs the air in the centre of the room, and from it steps an armoured figure. It looks around, getting its bearings as light streams through the windows above.
It lays eyes on the statue and begins to walk across the hall, stepping up on to the dais. It reaches out a hand, as if to touch the statue’s face, then stops and grabs its helmet instead, pulling it off and tucking it under her arm. Long black hair streams down the knight’s back, and she smiles sadly at the frozen figure. “Hi.” Her voice echoes around the empty hall. “It’s been a while. Can you see me? Are you aware of what’s going on?” She pauses. “I hope not. For your sake. All those people ...” She interrupts herself. “Apparently it’s the only way though. True love’s kiss. I hope you don’t mind if ...”
At that moment the doors open and the king and queen of Alea enter the hall, having spent another sleepless night worrying about what the next day will hold.
They see the figure standing on the royal dais and, after a moment’s shock, the king raises a finger. “An intruder! Guards! Stop her at once!”
The guards rush to separate the two, but they are too slow, and the knight leans forward, kissing the princess on the lips.
“Sacrilege!” The queen shrieks, and the guards reach the dais as the intruder remains fixated on the statue. One of them grabs her arm and another her shoulder. She does not resist.
They are pulling her from the dais when a voice rings out. “No.”
Everyone freezes. The statue has spoken.
“No.” Princess Miranda repeats as her skin returns to normal, the stone crumbling and sinking back into her features, her dress falling around her legs, no longer partially suspended in movement. “Release her.”
Immediately, the guards step away from the armoured intruder.
“Alanna ...” The princess steps forward, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck. “Thank you.”
She returns Miranda’s embrace, wrapping her arms around her tightly. They remain like that until eventually, the queen finds the words to speak. “What is the meaning of this?”
Miranda pulls herself out of the embrace, facing the monarch. “The meaning, mother, is that true love broke the curse.”
“No ... but ...” The queen splutters.
“What? Did you think true love meant ‘the wealthiest man’? Or perhaps ‘most powerful prince’?”
She steps down from the dais, supported by the knight.
“I don’t know what was worse. The parade of suitors or having to hear you act like you cared about me.”
“Miranda!” The king exclaims. “Don’t talk about your mother ...”
“And you.” She jabs a finger at him. “You’re no better. Standing idly by while your daughter is put on display. And you knew. But I suppose the kingdom comes first, doesn’t it?”
“Miranda, cease this foolishness at once.” The queen says sternly, attempting to regain some control. “You need rest. This intruder ... The spell has addled your wits.”
The princess laughs hollowly.
“On the contrary, your majesty. I think my wits are clearer than they have been in a long time. I don’t have to listen to you. Either of you. Not any more. Goodbye.”
As if on cue, there is a shimmer and the two are gone, leaving the king, queen and guards standing, staring at the empty dais.
“How did you know I had an exit?” Alanna asks as the pair sit on a hill overlooking a field, far away from the palace and its procession of carriages.
“I figured if you had a way in, you had a way out.” Miranda pulls a flower from the ground and begins to pluck its petals, one by one. “How did you do that?”
“Someone owed me a favour.” Alanna looks over at her. “Will you be all right?”
The former princess shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what we do now.” She meets the other woman’s gaze. “But I have you.” She leans in and the two of them kiss again, this time both able to enjoy it fully.
“That feels good.” Alanna mutters.
“I’m glad.” Miranda responds. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
They embrace, and the two vanish once more.
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