Of Quests and a Queen-To-Be
Once upon a time, a young prince rode out from his father’s kingdom in search of a worthy wife. He went in armour and carried his sword, but of luggage, took only a ring, to present to his chosen bride.
Ron would be a benevolent king, one day.
He just needed a Queen.
During the fourth month of his quest, Prince Ronald found himself listless, for he had believed he would find his bride in a few short weeks. He missed the fires of his home.
In such a state of mind, he wandered unknowingly into a dangerous area of forest. The locals forbade their children from entering its darkness, unsure of what, exactly, howled in its misty depths.
The prince’s horse snorted and swung out her hindquarters, and only then did he take notice of his surroundings, drawing his sword with a start of surprise.
Ron was determined to be a good king, to honour his father’s legacy. He was not about to die in a foggy wood before he got the chance.
“You will not find what you seek in these trees,” a mocking voice told him. He twisted in his saddle, searching for its source. “You travel far, princeling, but you need not; what you seek was ever just beyond the end of your nose.”
Darkness coalesced and solidified between two gargantuan trunks. Ron saw the suggestion of a human shape. “Who are you?” He demanded.
“Who am I? A good question,” the figure mused. “And yet the wrong one to ask. Try again.”
Ron frowned. He’d heard of trickster beings like this fairy. He thought carefully. “Where am I?” He tried.
“Better. You are in the Forbidden Forest, young prince, and treading further in this direction will make meals of you and your pretty horse.”
Ron patted his mare’s sweaty neck nervously. “Where should I go?” He asked after a long pause.
The creature laughed delightedly. “Ah, a wise prince indeed,” it crowed. “Back, of course. Back.”
Ron retraced his mount’s hoofprints to the edge of the forest and shaded his eyes from the sun. He’d assumed, while under the canopy of boughs, that the creature meant back out of the forest - but now, his urge to return home had intensified tenfold.
“Back,” he murmured. “Yes.”
He didn’t stop to rest or search. He travelled day and night, pushing his horse to her limits, and rode over the drawbridge only five days later.
He climbed stiffly from his mare and dropped to his knees before the armoured gatekeeper. “My lady,” he said gravely. “You are my choice; you are always here to see me leave on a mission, and always here to welcome me home. You were always my choice, and it has taken too many miles and an encounter with a creature of the forest for me to see clearly. Will you become my lady-in-waiting?”
The gatekeeper pushed his helmet up and scratched his neck awkwardly. “Ah. I’m sorry, m’lord, Lavender is off today. You’ll find her in the guard’s quarters.”
Ron’s ears turned scarlet. “I’m sorry,” he said, standing stiffly. “I believe she is my soulmate.”
“I know so, m’lord.”
And they did, indeed, live happily ever after - although the tale of the failed proposal outlasted the legend of King Ronald’s benevolence after all.