One Hundred Years

Many a girl has waited long
For a husband brave or strong;
But I'm sure I never met
Any sort of woman yet
Who could wait a hundred years,
Free from fretting, free from fears.

Now, our story seems to show
That a century or so,
Late or early, matters not;
True love comes by fairy-lot.
Some old folk will even say
It grows better by delay.

Yet this good advice, I fear,
Helps us neither there nor here.
Though philosophers may prate
How much wiser 'tis to wait,
Maids will be a sighing still --
Young blood must when young blood will!

- Charles Perrault

Day One

As long as I can remember I have always loved stories, and as soon as I could read I couldn’t keep my hands off of them. All right, I know that it’s not exactly proper for me to be reading fairy tales, but I did, and I did a lot. When I was younger they were my absolute favorite. I could spend days in my room reading, forgetting the entire world in my interest of these imaginary people’s lives. I have often wished that I could meet them, knowing that I never could. Mopsey – my little dog – was the only creature who ever really cared to listen to my ramble on about them though.

But the one thing I could never understand was the whole princess thing. In those stories some fair princess would be stolen by an evil dragon or witch, only to be rescued by their true love. True love? For goodness sake, they had never even seen the man before, and yet they fall madly in love at first sight. It made no sense. I don’t know, I suppose I’m only upset because of the bad image that these fairy tale princesses give me.

Yes, I’m a princess, but I try not to think about it. I never wanted to be, and there are more reasons why than I would care to tell you. One reason, of course, is the fairy tales; another is because I’m always being followed around. The whole kingdom seems to have gotten this strange idea in their head that if I’m left alone some dragon will swoop out of the sky, locking me up in a deserted castle. The worst thing is that they won’t admit it, and they say that they don’t approve of all this fairy tale nonsense. I can take care of myself; I am almost seventeen after all, not four!

I’m not saying that being a princess is all that bad. I mean, I do get all the books, clothes, and food I want. I can have anything. I do wish my father didn’t have to work so hard for it though. Sometimes I’m sure that he doesn’t even want to be King. He’s always so busy and never has time for me. I know that he cares about me though. I suppose his idea of make up the lost time is by ordering the guards to follow me around. My mother is the perfect image of a queen. She’s beautiful, sweet, calm, fashionable, and just plain perfect. I suppose I have a lot to live up to.

From what I can gather, when I was born I was some sort of miracle child. My parents had been praying for years for a child and when they had lost all hope, I came into their lives. Maybe that’s the reason for the guards. I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything.

I live in a beautiful palace with tall towers. I have my very own garden, filled with rose bushes and a giant labyrinth making a perfect place for my birthday party tonight. My mother has invited everyone with a high social status, and there will be the best of everything for me.

Tonight’s party was doomed to be boring.

“Rose, your majesty,” my handmaiden, Madeline, came in through the door. “The Queen requested your presence immediately.”

I jerked my head up, wondering what she wanted me for; I didn’t think I would have to start getting ready for the party for a few more hours. Pushing Mopsey off my lap, I thanked her and stood up.

Mother was waiting for me in her room, holding a new party gown. Aye, yet another dress to be worn only once, then to sit away for the rest of its existence. Just what I wanted.

“How do you like it dear?” my mother asked when she saw me come in. I walked closer to examine it, and for once I think I really did like it. It was a lovely shade of red, my favorite color, which I often fancied looked quite good on me.

“It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?” I asked.

“It came from Enélie, dear, where all of your dresses come from.” That’s another thing I’ve often wondered about, none of my clothes ever come from around here. Aren’t there sufficient tailors in our own country? “Now Rose, we must try it on, to make sure it fits for tonight. So take it behind the screen, dear.”

“Yes, Mother.” I took the dress and walked behind the screen, a few of Mother’s servants following me to help me put it on.

While in the process of putting on my corset, Mother spoke again. “Let’s go over your schedule.” Oh no, not again. This had to be the fiftieth time this week. “First, at noon, we’re going to have luncheon in the main hall. Everybody, I stress, will be there, so you most definitely must be on your best behavior.” No surprise there. “At two-thirty you’ll have a garden party with all the young people, while the adults are inside.”

“No adults?” I questioned, crossing my fingers.

“Yes, except the guards of course, but they’ll only be on the outskirts of the garden.” I came out from behind the screen and twirled around for her. “Perfect, Rose, just perfect. Now try on these boots.” She handed them to her servant. In turn, she placed them on my feet and began the long process of buttoning them.

“Don’t forget to behave at your party as well. Just because we’re not going to be there doesn’t mean that you manners shouldn’t be there as well.” Why does she keep saying that? Just because some of my parties in the past haven’t gone so well doesn’t mean that this one wouldn’t. “Oh, yes, don’t forget that the Prince of Enélie will be there, dear.” I groaned inwardly, knowing that there was a catch to this party. “After your garden party, we’ll mingle some more while you open your gifts, and then we’ll have the ball.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said as I stood up, finally dressed. I smiled at her, trying my best to enjoy the last few hours of freedom before it all started.

“Alright, time for hair.” I fought my hardest to hold in another groan.

Two hours later I was ready, just in time for the real torture to begin. After everyone was seated, I came in and took my place. We, well some of us, ate on golden plates, while everyone else ate on more traditional, though highly decorated, plat wear. While I was trying my best to eat properly I wondered why there were only twelve. Surely they would want all of the plates to be the same? There goes my curious mind again. Mother always tells me I should slow down and stick to one subject.

Not likely.

I scanned the room, surveying the noble guests around me. Yes, the usual assortment of lords and ladies governing the largest fifes are all here. Colin Vallet, Jehan Behot, Pierre le Grant (I spilled soup on him once when I was twelve. You should have seen the look on his face), Thibault Moriau, and many others. Of course, Uncle Andrion and his family, are here. Oh yes, and how could I forget? Him. I can not stand that man.

Prince Florimund of Enélie is twenty-three years old. For the last ten years of his life he has been set on marrying me. I have no clue why, but he has often been overheard to claim ‘love at first sight.’

Rather ridiculous if you ask me.

Especially since I was six years old at the time.

Oh, and of course. He was staring at me across the room, the same way he always does whenever he is in my presence.

Please don’t give me the whole ‘you should be grateful someone wants to marry you for love’ speech. I’ve heard it enough from my mother. Besides, if I go off and marry a foreigner, who is supposed to continue the line here in Carantha? Ah, I caught you there, didn’t I?

Or not. I suppose that Uncle would take it, wouldn’t he? But that’s despite the point.

The meal passed me by bite by bite. Father eventually stood up and announced the next part of the plan. The part where I am free to wander around my garden, hiding from the guests. When he finished, everybody got up and moved.

The sun shined down on me as I walked from the stone edifice into my garden. My the other young adults followed, and Mister Sunshine himself bent over to pick a rose and hands it to me.

I can’t believe this. This is my garden. These are my roses.

“Thank you, sire,” is all I stated before pulling my head up high and walk into the maze. Once out of sight I immediately pushed my rose back into the bush where it belongs.

It is going to be a long night. Did I say that already? Florimund ruined what little happiness I felt from the chance to be outside.

After the long and tiring event of avoiding the prince and my guests in the garden, we were finally allowed to enter back inside. I was then allowed to open my gifts. What a joyous occasion that was. Ooh, look! Another golden hand mirror! How exciting.

No, really. How many gilded objects does any one person need?

Especially when not one of them really cares. They just want my parents to like their ‘O So Noble Selves’.

Eventually that did come to and end though, which leaves me here. Standing in my dressing room while my hair is being redone in order to look my best during the ball.

“Please hold still, Rose,” Madeline asked of me. I suppose my head must have turned, again, when I was trying to look out the window. It looks like there is about an hour left of sunlight left today. I turned my head back towards the large mirror to view my reflection. My blond hair glimmered at me from where it had been so very carefully placed. It’s pretty, but it really isn’t worth all of this time. “I said hold still, dear.”

I was just turning my head back so it would be straight, no need to get upset, Madeline. Staring at mirror I noticed my mother walk back into the room.

“Rose, we are starting soon. Please be down in ten minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

As soon as my mother left, Madeline finally decided to move quickly and finished my hair. I returned downstairs to the party below and make an entrance to my ball. The crowd looked at me and I smiled, trying not to show my utter hatred of being here.

The music started. A daring soul who I recognized as the duke of somewhere asked me to dance, and I accepted. But only because my mother is watching me very closely. And because I didn’t want to completely humiliate the poor man. I noticed Prince Florimund was watching me as well and I carefully managed to guide my dance partner across the room… far away from him.

As the song finished I managed to slip away towards the refreshments and look busy doing nothing. I picked at the strawberries, staring intensely at the little speckles of seeds all stuck to the outside of the fruit. Although my object in this was to avoid Florimund’s searching eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder why it is that while most other fruits grow their seeds on the inside, strawberries break this rule. And then I wondered why they don’t fall off when a hand brushes by them. I suppose they must be attached somehow. I wondered if my tutor is here. Maybe he knows.

I glanced up and around the room to see if he was invited, but to my utter horror I saw Prince Florimund walking straight towards me. Promptly hiding my dance card I ducked under the table, praying that nobody saw. Especially Florimund. Especially my mother or father. To think what she would do to me if she saw me hiding like this almost made it not worth it.

I crawled towards the wall, hoping this will be a profitable escape route. Suddenly I felt something in the way and look down to see one of the servants passed out. Oh dear. Grimacing, I crawled over his body and continue.

When I reached the edge of the table, I peaked my head out. Straight ahead of me was an open passageway. Glancing first to the left then to the right, I dash out into the free hallway and around the left corner. I’m safe. Without a backwards glance I marched down the hallway and up the stairs, leaving the royal ball behind me.

After wandering around my own castle for ten minutes I stopped to listen. Far beneath me I could hear the music merrily making its way to the court’s ears. Smiling once again at my achievement of slipping away I skipped down the hallway, twirling every few steps. Dancing with myself down a forgotten hallway on my own birthday. Who could ask for anything more?

I suddenly stopped. In front of me was a door I didn’t remember seeing before. I wondered why I’ve never noticed it. I know I don’t spend much time on this floor, but still… I’ve lived here for sixteen – no –seventeen years now, after all.

I heard a noise from below. It sounds like heavy footsteps… perhaps of worried bodyguards trying to find me. I rarely get a moment to myself and I was not about to let them destroy it. I turned to face the mystery door and push it open, walking inside. The door clanged shut behind me and I stared at it. What a loud sound it made when closing. I hope nobody heard me.

A sudden noise from behind me brought my attention back to the room. I turned to see that I am not the only soul abiding in it. In the back of the room sat an older woman, sitting at a strange contraption with a wheel. She looked up at me and I noticed she had the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen. Her eyes matched the color of her dress, which is quite plain, but beautifully woven.

“Hello,” she broke the silence.

“Hello…” I was not sure what to say. I don’t remember seeing either her or her contraption ever before at the castle. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is this that you are doing?”

She smiled and motioned me to sit down on the stool next to hers. I come and she looks at me hard.

“What might your name be, missy?”

“My name?” My mouth opened slightly. Was she so blind that she would not recognize who I am? “Why… I am Rose Dubois. I am the Princess of Carantha. Who are you?”

“I am Anne, your majesty. I am a seamstress. I created this very gown from threads I spun myself.”

“Spun?”

For a moment the woman looked surprised, but then she cocked her head slightly and smiled. “This machine is called a spinning wheel. I suppose as princess you have never seen one before.”

I nodded my head yes, and my eyes followed a long line of string that wove through the spinning wheel, all the way up to where the threads circled a round wooden object with a pointy top. “And so, after it goes through the wheel… it comes here,” I pointed to round object, “and then you weave the threads into cloth?”

“Yes, this is called the spindle.”

“The spindle,” I breathed.

“Would you like to touch it?” she pointed towards the spindle with her hand.

I nodded and began walking towards her and the spinning wheel. Why I wanted to touch it, I’ll never know. I’m too curious for my own good. Outside the door I could hear the rushed footsteps of the guards searching. I continued walking, ignoring their calls. Stopping, I reached out my hand and touched the stop of the spindle.

I felt a slight pain on my finger and I looked down to see it was bleeding. Then I felt dizzy and began lowering myself to the floor, trying to gain back my balance. I could hear the door burst open and the woman’s soft laughter as I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, it was dark.