Sweet Princess Wren

Deep in the south of the Kingdom of Fynn, something happened. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen. This occurrence happened within the confines of the Castle of Fynn. 1

A serving maid, Ennyn, had a child. 2

“En, it’s a girl.” The young woman’s sister, the resident midwife, handed her the baby. Ennyn gratefully grasped the infant, peering into the bundle that seemed to be more linen cloth than child.3

The little girl wailed. Tears collected in her dark blue eyes. With flushed cheeks she lifted an arm and grabbed her mother’s chin with a tiny hand, little fingers warm and soft and baby-like. Ennyn’s own blue eyes filled with tears. A joy and love deeper and more potent than any other love she had ever felt spilled along with those tears, dripping into the girl’s nose.4

This startled the infant, who stopped crying abruptly. She removed her hand from her mother and put one tiny finger onto her own nose, feeling the dampness of the tear. A fully wondrous look came upon her, and she moved her eyes onto her mother, and they stared into each other’s eyes.5

In that servant’s chamber, warmly lit with lanterns all around, surrounded by friends and family, who really are one and the same –a legend was born –not only the child, but the emotions that empowered her rise to glory. A love between mother and daughter that could never be broken, not by death, not by separation, nor by deceit or conspiracy, or the power of law.6

A serving maid, Ennyn, had a child.7

The illegitimate child of King Fyrryn the Fourth.8

***9

Somebody was following Wren. She knew this, because she could hear the clumsy steps crunching stones, and smell the dust they had disturbed. She lifted her skirts, and began to run. The bare soles of her feet were warmed on the sun-soaked cobble stone path, her golden hair and pale, freckled skin gleaming in the summer sunlight of South Fynn.10

The steps behind her grew quicker. Laughing, Wren stopped her flight and turned round, her loose, dark green linen dress twirling with her.11

“Come out, come out! I know you’re there.” She grinned as her life-long best friend, Rayne, stepped out from behind an oak tree. 12

“How did you know it was me?” He mock pouted, while approaching her. His dark hair was mussed and dappled in the sunlight and the shadows of the leaves above him.13

Rayne was well-known in the castle. He had a very important job –dressing Prince Bren in the morning. The Prince was about their age, and very shy. He kept to himself –actually, none of the servants in the castle had seen more than a glimpse of him. Rayne was revered in his knowledge of the Prince. Many times a servant child had run up to him only to ask how the Prince looked.14

Wren and he were playing a game of their own invention. The goal was to figure out the where the other was going, and end up there first, but you couldn’t talk to the other at all, and if they heard you near them, they could call you out. Then you would lose, and it was their turn.15

“Nobody would be headed towards the stable, unless they were following me,” she said. The two began walking down the path once more –except Rayne was in the open, now. “And who would be following me, but to see where I was going? And who would want to know where I was going but the one and only Rayne Delah?” Wren looked towards Rayne with a smile. “That’s how I knew it was you.”16

“So that’s where you were headed? I thought you were going to the well!” They shared a laugh at Rayne’s obliviousness. Together they walked the short way to the stables, reveling in the warmth and beauty of their shared day off. 17

The stable was set about a mile away from the castle itself, in a pasture of decadent, lush grass the color of leaves lit from behind –a deep, golden-green. The stable itself was a long, low building with room for more horses than were kept there. It was a favorite place for many young servants; to sit among the horses in the green pasture was perfect to relieve the tension of a hard day’s work.18

Rayne and Wren sat together on a large, rather flat protruding boulder and watched a mare and her foal graze and nuzzle each other. The two teens shared a moment of friendship –silence strengthening the love they felt for one another.19

The beauty of love and trust and joy of the moment seemed to stop time, but was soon interrupted by a tap on Wren’s shoulder. 20

She turned, utterly surprised. Rayne turned, too. They both sat in shock at what they saw.21

It was Prince Bren. He stood, fingering a golden button on his rich, blue velvet cloak nervously. 22

“You are Miss Wren, I presume?” His words were bold, but his voice sounded unsure and young. 23

Wren leapt to her feet and curtsied. “Prince Bren,” she whispered in shaky acknowledgement. Rayne got to his feet slowly and bowed in turn.24

“My –My father would like to see you.” The Prince didn’t take his eyes off Wren to acknowledge Rayne’s bow. He seemed rather enthralled with her. 25

“Oh?” Wren asked, and then shut her mouth suddenly. She had forgotten to ask permission to speak.26

“Yes?” The Prince asked, and the two met eyes. The Prince had an uncertain, pubescent look to him, but had serious, dark blue eyes that seemed to be much older than him –eyes that reminded Wren of her own.27

“I –I was wondering why your father sent you to find me, and not a servant or messenger.”28

“I’ve been wondering the same myself, actually.” The Prince finally smiled, which lightened the heavy awkwardness of the situation a bit. Rayne stood silently, and turned his head to watch the horses. He felt that he was not needed here.29

“How did you know it was me?” Wren looked at her feet, wishing they weren’t covered in mud from crossing the meadow to the boulder.30

“Father said to find the girl who had looked like our serving maid –you look exactly like her. Your mother, I mean.” Wren looked up again to find his eyes still on her. “Well, it’s odd, but you have my hair just like my father’s. That’s the only difference between you and her, I mean.”31

“I… I do?” Wren had noticed this herself, but had never voiced her opinion, because she thought that the others would call her disrespectful. She had the same gently wavy tresses of gold hair, speckled with paler yellow.32

“Would you like to walk with me back to the castle?” The words came out in a rush, the Prince faintly blushing underneath pale, acne-spotted skin. 33

“Of course, I am greatly honored.” They began their way across the pasture, Wren giving Rayne a little goodbye wave, and that only. Scowling, Rayne sat down again on the boulder and wondered why the King would want to see Wren.34

***35

The King’s throne room was magnificent. It had wallpaper detailed in gold and silver designs, brightly colored tapestries full of courage and loyalty, rugs two inches deep of the softest, richest threads –the beauty and sheer expensiveness of all of it was imposing.36

Wren stood in front of the thrones –the King’s and Queen’s. She was now wishing even more that she had bathed that day, or at least worn one of her nicer dresses. Two guards in shining plate mail stood at attention on either side of the platform where the King and Queen sat, looking very wise and influential. Prince Bren stood next to his father.37

“Miss Wren Latykke.” The King looked at her, straight in the face, studying her with a serious, grave expression on his face.38

Wren’s heart began to pound inside her chest. What did she do?39

“I am going to tell you something that will change your life.” The King’s voice was deep –it sounded like a voice to rule a country, to bring together doubtful troops, to raise a starving people’s spirits. 40

Wren dug her toes into the plush carpet. She was afraid, deathly afraid. The King frowned, and glanced at the Queen. The woman’s lips tightened into a thin line. She seemed to be trying to convey no emotion, but was very angry, or annoyed, or sad inside. Wren couldn’t tell.41

“You are my daughter.”42

Wren let in a sharp breath. Prince Bren’s face fell. The Queen pressed her lips together even tighter. The King let out a sigh.43

“Not by Queen Lytta. You are your mother’s daughter.”44

The Queen’s lips seemed to be disappearing rapidly. Prince Bren still stared at Wren with a shocked expression on his face. The King looked uncomfortable, but only the tiniest bit. He was the King, after all.45

Wren found that she could not feel any emotion at all.46

“It was a mistake, but… Here you are.” The King rubbed a button on his richly embroidered coat. Prince Bren must have picked up the habit from his father. “I have decided, after lengthy conversation with the Queen that it would be best to tell you now, before you got too used to the idea of living as a servant. Because I can’t let you grow up in that way, you are of royal blood. Many Kings leave their illegitimate children to their mothers; let them live a false life. But I… I think that is a mistake. Royal blood is royal blood, no matter how diluted.”47

Wren finally opened her mouth.48

“I –I am –shocked, Sir.” Wren felt tears collecting in her eyes. There was a moment of silence.49

A knock on the huge, golden double doors broke the uncomfortable pause. Wren turned, to see them open a crack, and a page boy stick his head into the room.50

“Ennyn Latykke is here, my Lord.” The king motioned them in with a ring-laden hand. Ennyn had grown older, now her shining black hair was dulled and streaked with gray, her smooth, creamy skin loosened and roughed with age. But her eyes, dark blue and shining, glowed with the warmth of past love as she gazed upon the king.51

“You sent for me?” She began at a near whisper, but her words gained confidence as she arrived at her daughter’s side. The pageboy bowed and excused himself from the room.52

“Yes, I sent for you.” King Fyrryn was twisting the button on his jacket again –it seemed that it might fall off soon. “I told Miss Wren here… I told her about us.”53

Ennyn smiled softly, putting a hand on her daughter’s trembling shoulder. “I did always call you Princess, darling. It was for a reason.”54

“I –I’m a princess?” Wren felt emotion flooding into her. “And what happens now?” She took a step forward, towards the thrones. “What have you gained by telling me this?”55

The King furrowed his brow. “I hope that I have gained a daughter.” His voice was low and full of the sorrow he had felt at keeping this inside for all these fourteen years. “A daughter and a princess for my country.”56

Wren stood by her mother, wishing for Rayne. He would know what to do. What would he do? She supposed that he would accept the new title, and live in the palace –make a difference in the kingdom of Fynn.57

“I accept my title as Princess,” she said in a voice that was well worthy of her new place in the castle. A gasp came from the Queen’s tight mouth, the Prince let out a nervous laugh, the King grinned, and Ennyn squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, letting her know that their love would last throughout.58

***59

Ten years later, Wren was lounging in her rose garden, on a sculpted marble bench. She was writing in her booklet of “ways to change the kingdom for good.” The scent of the summer roses lay heavy upon her scarlet gown, the only sound being the trickling of a fountain in a nearby courtyard, and the scratching of her quill against the parchment.60

Steps approached, clumsy steps scuffling the gravel from the cobble stone path. Princess Wren stopped writing abruptly. She knew those steps –where had she heard them before? They grew closer. Aha. She had got it. 61

“Rayne Delah.” She laughed, looking up from her writings. “Fancy seeing you here.” 62

“May I speak, Princess?” He looked the same as all those years ago, except his clothes were nearly as rich as her half brother’s, Prince Bren –soon to be king. 63

“Yes, but first I must inquire upon the state of your clothing. Did you happen upon a large chest of gold?” Wren stood and embraced Rayne. “I missed you, commoner.” She whispered in his ear with a note of hilarity in her voice. She pulled back.64

“I joined the Royal Guard. I got knighted by the King, he said not to tell you, and now I’ve got money for everything I need and more!” He brushed a strand of well groomed raven hair from his eyes. “I just got back from the war against the Kingdom of Pax.” He spun the Princess round as if they were dancing. “We won!”65

“Oh, joy.” They stopped the mad twirling through the garden. “That’s the next thing I want to get rid of. War, it’s so pointless.”66

The two looked into each other’s eyes, recalling the days of their youth. And Wren knew just what was going to happen next. Sir Rayne dropped to one knee.67

“I suppose it is acceptable for a Princess to marry a Knight?” 68

“Not really, but I am only a half-princess.”69

“Then, darling Half-Princess Wren of the Kingdom of Fynn, will you marry me?” He slipped a delicate gold band around her finger.70

“Of course, Sir Rayne.” They walked among the rose bushes, hand in hand, reminiscing of summers long ago, and predicting seasons to come.71

***72

These are but small scenes of the life of Princess Wren. Her wisdom grew through many years, her kindness and vivacity burning a golden thread of peace through the timeline of the Kingdom of Fynn. She ended all wars, ended all famine, and began an era of love that would continue on after her death. 73

There would be a battle cry, when the Kingdom of Fynn came to an end hundreds of years later-74

“For the sweet Princess Wren, for Wren!”75