I know I have a million other started stories, but I've had this one for a while and I wanted to see what people thought of it. This one I DO actually intend to continue, considering I've already written several chapters.
Chapter One
The Dancing Princesses
My mother had always been vain. The reflection in her mirror had always gone before everything else. It was something that I accepted, that my father accepted. We never questioned her devotion to herself, because it had always just been that way. It was like my love of painting, and Father’s rule; both were a part of ourselves that were undeniable and constant.
My mother’s name was Isiladora Dermandé. Father had won her hand when she was young—it was a story I heard often throughout my life. About how my mother and her sisters had loved to dance, and how they would sneak off to a magical world every night to meet princes and dance the night away. By morning, when they came back, their shoes were ruined. My mother’s father, King Philon, became beside himself, convinced his daughters were up to no good and philandering with commoners. When the servants he bade to stay awake and watch over the princesses at night always returned with fear, admitting they had fallen asleep, the king became even more desperate. Guards were posted around his daughters’ room when the sky turned dark. The doors were locked from the outside. But when the princesses’ shoes were picked up the next morning, they were always worn.
The king brought in the princes. Princes from all over the world. He offered them the kingdom and the hand of any one of his daughters if the man would just find out what his daughters were doing so a stop could be put to it. But royal prince after royal prince failed, just as the servants had, and King Philon began to despair.
Then my father, a mere peddler, appeared in the palace for one of the many feasts that were held there. He made an offer to the king—an offer to assist in the mystery of the dancing princesses. King Philon granted permission to the poor peddler, knowing that he would not succeed, but unable to give up hope that he might know where his daughters went.
My father’s mother—a grandmother I have never met—had been an expert in herbs and potions and poisons. Father knew much of such things, also, from her teaching. So when the eldest princess offered him wine, he knew not to be so foolish as to swallow it. Indeed, when he smelled it, there was a sleeping herb crushed in the drink. The princess stood by, waiting, and father tipped the cup back, closing his eyes and pretending to consume the wine.
Satisfied, the princesses left him alone. Father continued the charade, nodding off, and soon was slumped against a table and snoring softly.
The princesses, giggling, prepared themselves. They donned gowns of the finest materials, shoes of the purest satin, and when they deemed themselves ready they gathered around a window that was slightly down the left side of the wall, leaving a large blank space. With one last glance at my father, a princess pulled back the drapery. They all quieted, and my father watched in rapt fascination.
“We want to dance,” one sister said.
“In the land of dreams,” another whispered.
“With handsome men,” a princess laughed.
“Where nothing is as seems,” my mother added.
“And when the clock strikes one,” a sister murmured.
“We’ll return to this room,” her twin mourned.
“We’ll shut the door,” said one more.
“But return soon!” they all sang, faces alight and voices rejoicing.
To my father’s amazement, a door of light appeared in the wall. Without hesitation, the sisters all filed into it, vanishing one after another. The youngest sister, a girl of sixteen and adorned in a lovely gown of green, looked back to Father. When she was assured he was asleep, she too stepped into the doorway.
Father leaped to his feet and dashed to the door, just as it was slowly fading. He dashed into the light, and it blinded him for a moment. When he could see again, my father was shocked to see that he was in a wood. The trees sparkled, though there was no moon in the night sky to shine upon them, and Father realized that the leaves were made of silver, gold, and jewels.
The princesses were rushing towards a river, and after plucking off a leaf of each different kind of tree, Father followed them, keeping out of sight.
At the river there were boats, and in the boats stood elegant men. The princesses knew them, and each one got into a boat, holding their skirts carefully. Just as Father neared, his foot landed on a twig. It snapped.
The girl in the green gown looked back and cried out, “What was that?”
Her sisters were already rowing down the river. “Don’t worry so, Isiladora,” the eldest chided. “Get into the boat.”
Nervous, my mother obeyed. But her eyes strayed back to the trees, where my father hid and watched. He told me many times that the first time he saw her in that boat was when he’d fallen in love with her. The way her frightened voice had sliced through the silent night, the way her golden hair glowed without any sort of light—all of it caused Father to notice her and only her throughout that enchanted evening.
As he had no boat, Father merely flitted from tree to tree down the riverside, always keeping the princesses and princes in his line of sight. His gaze always returned to my mother. She was suspicious, glancing to the shore as often as he glanced to her. She caught sight of him darting between trees.
“There’s someone there!” she shrieked, pointing wildly. Her sisters ignored her that time, and the prince rowing the boat chuckled.
“I’m sure there is,” he said cheerfully. “We aren’t the only ones that live in this land, you know.”
Mother was not comforted, and her frightened gaze turned into a glare as she looked to the woods. “It was a man,” she muttered. “I saw a man.”
Father was more careful, and stayed away from the trees closest to the riverside. He followed them for what felt like miles, and they finally pulled the boats on shore. Father’s attention was briefly diverted from Mother when he beheld the sight that was before him, on the other side of the river.
There was a massive pavilion. Torches stood on each pillar, alighting the place so that the night surrounding it seemed unreal. But the pavilion was not empty. In it there was already dancing and music. Strange creatures skipped and hopped to the instruments. Father knew them from the books his mother had read. Elves and ogres, goblins and fairies. In the pavilion they all seemed to move together, despite varying sizes and speeds.
The princesses were swung out of the boats, their long skirts swirling. They were already laughing when they took their princes’ arms, and Father said that not one stopped laughing throughout the night.
Except my mother.
Her gaze returned to the river, and the woods beyond. Father said that though he was too far way from her, she seemed to be looking straight at him. He told me her blue eyes touched the core of his soul. He had never seen a girl so beautiful.
Father knew that their night was drawing to a close when all the princesses began to walk back to the boats. Seeing this, he headed back to the door. He had to get there before they did. Reluctantly leaving my mother behind, he ran through the woods and back to the trees of silver and gold and jewels.
The door was there, and he dashed through it. He looked over his body for any sign of dirt, and touched his pocket to be sure the leaves were there. Then he calmly went to the table, sat in the chair, slumped in the same position he had been in before, and closed his eyes once more.
The princesses were not long in returning. They stepped inside their room, sighing, and all of them took of their worn and battered shoes, rubbing their feet.
“You see, Isiladora?” a sister snickered, looking at Father. “He’s still asleep. No one was following us tonight.”
Mother frowned. “I know I saw someone, and I think it was him,” she insisted. The sisters scoffed and went to their beds.
When morning dawned, Father was sent for by the king.
“Have you found out where my daughters go night after night?” he was asked. King Philon did not appear hopeful, only weary. I had imagined his surprise in my mind many times when Father said he had.
Stepping forward, Father presented the enchanted leaves, and told the court his astounding tale. The king was so delighted and triumphant that he gave Father the rewards promised.
“Which of my daughter would you like to rule beside, and have for a wife?” he asked.
Father’s answer was immediate. “I would like to marry Isiladora, if she will have me.”
The princesses were sent for. When they found out what had happened and that their secret was no longer their own, they were angry and sullen. Mother was most displeased to learn that she was to be a peddler’s wife.
King Philon was adamant and firm. The wedding took place shortly after. Surprisingly, when he was washed and given fine clothing, Father made a rather dashing prince. Mother eventually forgot her pouting and disdain, and her and Father settled down.
I was born a few years afterwards. I am told I was King Philon’s favorite grandchild, and that the place I was most often found was bouncing and gurgling happy in his lap. The grandfather I do not remember died soon after my fourth year, and Mother and Father became the king and queen of Palmasia.
As I said, my mother was a vain woman. But growing up, I loved her anyway. Despite her negligence of him, Father also adored her. Our people were admiring and looked up to her more so then the rest of us.
That is why, when she fell ill, our kingdom seemed to fall apart. It was then that a sort of crazed look began to gleam in Father’s eye. I could not know what was to come. If I had, things might have gone a bit differently.
