The Two Princesses

THE TWO PRINCESSES1

They stood opposite each other, their heads held high, with both a comic arrogance and dignity. Their lips were pursed, their hair was held up higher than their heads in neat buns. Their eyes surveyed each other with extreme distaste. They loathed each other so much they could barely look at each other without wanting to retch, but they knew that this was the last time each would see the other, so they wanted to see properly, to savor the moment. The moment did not last long; they quickly turned away from each other, with a strange flame burning inside them. It was green at first, an electric green, then blue, cold, icy blue, and then it turned red hot and furious before being extinguished and coming to an abrupt end. Only a few coals were left, lying at their feet. 2

It was a strange game. They had their pawns, their knights, and some bishops too, holding the Holy Scriptures and muttering strange verses. But the kings were missing. There was only one king, and he was neither black nor white. He was simply a figure who stood there, their unknown prince, bound by the laws of the land. For centuries, the houses of Morgan and Arthur had upheld their strange tradition-every year the prince would be betrothed to one of the princesses from each house. The prince would lead the army into battle, and the princess would assist him. Far away, the invaders were approaching in vast hordes. To be the Queen was a privilege, and the girls had been told this every single minute of their life-by their family, their friends, and their own selves.3

But in childhood, there is no Dignity, no Arrogance, no Status, and no Wealth. There is only Innocence, and everyone knows it. No one dares to encroach upon Innocence’s domain, and she plays happily in the Garden of Life till the buds start to blossom.4

And they blossomed well. Oh they blossomed well. Though their hair was tied up, a few curls and wispy strands descended from here and there, framing their faces. One was set and angular; the other was oval and trembling. One had sharp, dark grey eyes; the other had soft, pale and liquid ones. One had been blessed with the slenderness of a willow, the other had curves streaking up her body. 5

The prince watched them with silence. No one knew what he was thinking, or whom he wanted, but it did not matter. The King got to speak in all the matters, but he was still a prince, so he could not say anything. They both bit their lips, hesitant, their eyebrows furrowed, then straightened again.6

One was as dark as night, and the other was as fair as day.7

Somewhere in the Garden of Life, Innocence mourned. 8

*9

When children are little, Innocence envelops them. Her bright and twinkling eyes and her loud and raucous laugh are contagious. Yet, there are times when Cruelty stalks her sister’s domain. In a way, they were like Innocence and Cruelty-one was weak and powerless, the other was fiery and stubborn. Jessica would spend most of her childhood cowering as the villagers taunted her, their eyes green with jealousy. They were all from the House of Morgan, and one of them was Imogen, Imogen with her wild curly hair and dark grey eyes that turned coal black when she was angry. Imogen did not let Cruelty get the upper hand however. She protected Jessica throughout their childhood, defending her from the village boys, and teaching her to ignore the comments of the village girls. Jessica let Imogen ‘mother’ her around, she let Imogen plait her hair, dress her, do the wildest things. Imogen did not ask for anything in return. Jessica was secretly awed by Imogen, the way she danced around wearing peasant clothing even though she was a princess. They had been told thousands of times, “Do not socialize with the rich aristocrats of Arthur” or “Don’t you dare think of making friends with those cheap louts from Morgan!” But they never listened. After all, they had read countless tales about forbidden love, but none about forbidden friendship.10

Then they became women. They let out blood, their bosoms grew, and their hips enlarged. Imogen was not allowed to be free anymore. She had to spend all her evenings with a special tutor, and soon her eyes grew more serious. Jessica encountered countless suitors, yet, now blessed with Imogen’s discerning eye, she turned them away, though of course she took pain, for Jessica had a weak heart. Soon, they were told that one of them was to be married to the prince, and they immediately thought of the playmate each had had as a child. Though their love had uncannily been encouraged by their parents, never once would they have wondered that they would be betrothed to their childhood sweetheart. Each formed a separate image of him in her mind, not having seen him for years. They did not know how he looked then, yet they fought for him. 11

At that very moment, the invaders killed the guards patrolling the border. They entered the kingdom, and their eyes were set upon the palace. Their leaders looked at the grand exterior, then at each other, and then turned to their men and smiled. 12

“Begin,” their said.13

And, at the exact moment on which the two brothers began their rampage, another war began. It was not a war of independence, or a revolution, or a civil war, nor a normal war waged for more power. It was not a war of love either.14

It was a war of two friends. 15

Or, saying it more correctly, a war of two enemies.16

*17

The moment the Queen Mother said, “Begin”, the pawns handed over the swords, shining after days of polishing. Imogen thought about the irony of polishing swords when they were going to be blood-stained anyways. 18

The prince watched them, unable to decide whom to admire the most. Imogen made a series of calculated moves, lunging at Jessica, her hand thrusting energetically. Jessica was more spontaneous-she sent her sword flying in all directions, the sharp tip missing Imogen by only a few inches. Imogen’s curls obscured her eyes; she angrily tucked them inside her ears and continued fighting. Jessica had a harder time taking control of her thin, dark blond hair; the strands were so fine, that she could barely hold them. Their swords clashed-Imogen took her sword back, but Jessica thrust it at Imogen’s throat, the tip reaching Imogen’s neck. Silently, everyone who had grown up with them watched, and Guilt decided to intervene on behalf of the others. Jessica stepped back, blinking, feeling quite strange-giving Imogen enough time to snarl and send the sword at Jessica’s heart. Friendship could not stand herself being insulted anymore, and attacked, and Imogen was left feeling heartless and cruel. They both stared at each other. 19

There was a pin-drop silence in the hall. The bishops watched with silent hope. “Oh please stop the fight God,” they muttered silently. The knights stood there. Though people saw only steel armor, they were unaware that pieces of the knights’ souls were still attached to the armor, echoing the grief and anger of War as he was slowly made into a comic act. For one moment, it seemed as if the world had stopped existing-there was only an empty vacuum that existed between the two princesses.20

“Oh god, now, resume it!” called out the prince angrily. The girls looked at the prince, their eyes briefly tinged with anger. He raised his eyebrows, as if to dare them to make faces at him.21

The fight resumed.22

*23

The invaders rode on, their massive army following behind them. Both had a conniving look in their eyes. War etiquette dictated that one should not attack their enemy without warning, but they had never been ones to follow etiquette. Both had grown up in separate houses-one in the house of Morgan, and the other in the house of Arthur. But both were determined to change the enmity between the houses, to make one government to govern the land, and not just keep looking for more. They had come to reclaim their land, to make their country the one it was long ago when no divisions existed, and to reclaim the lovers they had left behind so many years ago. Behind them rode their ever-faithful soldiers, and they charged like ghost warriors, almost like the ones of the ancient past. The villagers anticipated their arrival, waiting anxiously. Several nobles rounded up their horses-some to join the army, some to escape the country, and some to join the invaders disguised as peasants, though it cannot be said how many were genuinely interested in fighting to liberate their country, and how many wanted to spy. But no matter who they were-fat or thin, rich or poor, kind or evil-they all heard the approaching sounds of hoofs thundering on the vast, flat plains that surrounded the villages. 24

But in the castle, one could only hear the sounds of the swords. Jessica's gently swooshed through the air, swinging like a pendulum, while Imogen's sliced through the air, her hands rapidly moving in back and forth movements. Jessica kept a calm grip on her sword, Imogen's hands shook, and beads of sweat appeared on her face. The prince was taking silent glee in Imogen's plight; his mouth was starting to curl up at the ends. Imogen's forehead creased in concentration, tears stung her eyes. Yet she fought on, refusing to give up. Jessica looked at the prince every now and then, enjoying the way he was smiling at her. Drowned in triumph, she brought down her sword, slashing through Imogen's gown, and lightly grazing her leg. Their friends watched helplessly-all had drifted away. But Hatred, Cruelty and Enmity stayed behind. The deadly trio worked their magic, and the two increased the intensity of their attacks.25

Finally, Jessica succeeded. She struck at Imogen's arm, and Imogen struck at her cheek. Jessica stepped back, howling as blood trickled down her lovely face. She looked at Imogen and gasped in pain. Though it was Imogen who was sprawled at on the ground, crying out in agony, Jessica could feel her grief and her anger. She silently dropped to the ground, and leant over Imogen, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked at the prince, and finally saw him for what he was. She looked at Imogen, and both realized the how futile the past three hours had been. Jessica held up Imogen, and much to the excitement of the all the pieces, be it the pawns or the knights, or the bishops, they walked out slowly. Far away in a distance, the horses happily whinnied at their riders, and the brothers looked at each other in a moment of understanding. 26

They finally reached the castle, and rode down the drawbridge, winking to the noble who operated it. He was their friend, and they knew that they could trust him. They suddenly stopped their horses and disembarked. Hearing the sounds of the approaching horses, they stopped and looked up fearfully. The invaders had come. But as soon as their eyes met those of the brothers, their jaws dropped, both in surprise, and in happiness.27

One had a set and angular face, the other had an oval and trembling one. One had lean and slender, like a willow, the other had a well-built, muscular physique. One had sharp, dark grey eyes; the other had soft liquid ones. One had dark, curly hair that descended below his ears and hung above the neck, the other had fine, fair strands that cupped his chin. 28

Each princess realized that her true prince was not standing with the rest of the spectators to their fight, but right there in front of her eyes. Each knew that the qualities she wanted in her prince were not there in the one who had gleefully witnessed their fight, but in the one that had arrived to save his country. And each realized that that playmate whom she had had when she was a child, was not the mysterious shadow prince who was taking pleasure in her friend’s injuries, but the one who was now standing in front of her. Slowly, they walked to the invaders, then broke into a run, and embraced them, their bodies molding into each other. As if on cue, the soldiers attacked, and the invaders ended their embrace, smiling down upon the princesses, and charged into war. And Imogen and Jessica stood there fearlessly, knowing that their princes would win. 29