Fiction Friday #9

Once Upon a Time...

Prince Dairiad knew--knew with a fiery passion that burned from his toes to his bowels to his nose--that he was a fairy tale prince. His father, The King, ruled over a beautiful land from a castle on a hill in the middle of a large, lush, and fertile valley surrounded by a ring of high, snow capped mountains with a large, dark wood to the east, along with his mother, The Queen. Dairiad remembered sunny days, riding through the valley, through forest and farmland, and being greeted by The King's people. When he rode through town, they cheered his arrival and children formed a parade, following his horse to the edge of town, cheering the whole length. Innkeepers always gave him the best room for free, even if they had to move people out of it; the people who had the room already didn't mind, either, after all, they were giving up the room for their prince. And every woman in the land threw herself at the prince and wanted to warm his bed, from the lowliest and comeliest of farm girls, to the most sensible and beautiful merchant women, to the wild and ravishing warrior women, to the most regal and elegant of the noble women.

The land of his father loved him and Dairiad loved the land of his father. He loved the farms and the towns. He loved the forest and the meadows. He loved the castle and the church. He loved the men and the children. And he had loved many of the women in the land.

On his 25th birthday, several hours after the dancing had started, but still before midnight, Prince Dairiad was asked to attend a private audience with The King and The Queen before they retired to their chambers for the night.

"Father, you asked for me," said Dairiad, bending a little at the waist.

The King smiled and nodded his head.

"Yes, we wanted to speak with you," said The Queen. "It's about what you're doing with your life."

"Father," said Dairiad looking at The King, "what is it?"

The King nodded at Dairiad, then at his wife, and then stroked his long, grey beard. He found something in his beard. It was soft and slimy. He put it to his nose and sniffed. There wasn't much of a smell. He put it in his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue. The thing wasn't salty enough to be a booger. Perhaps it was chicken. Yes, a little bit a chicken caught in his beard. The King swallowed. He couldn't remember the last time he ate chicken, before today, that is.

"Son," said The Queen, sweetly, "we need to talk."

"Father?" asked Dairiad, watching The King groom his beard. "What is it? What do you want?"

The Queen sighed and reached beneath her coat. She pulled out the jeweled, silver dagger her husband had given to her the last time he could remember her name. She kissed the sapphire in the pommel, took a deep breath, and grabbed Dairiad by the collar.

"You listen to me, boy," she said, placing the blade to his throat. "We have to talk."

Dairiad nodded a tiny bit.

The King sneezed.

"You're 25. You're father's very old. You can not take his place until you've married."

"But mother," he whined, trying to pull himself out of her grip, "there are no princesses here and all the rest of the noble women are my sisters and cousins and aunts. What can I do?"

"You do what your father did," she said, throwing her son to the floor. "You pick a pass over the mountains and find a wife Outside."

The King pulled a mouse from his beard and started to giggle.

"Leave the valley?" Dairiad asked, standing up and straightening his clothes. "Why would I do that?"

"Because," said his mother, nodding toward the door, "You have no choice."

Two guards grabbed Dairiad's arms and started to push him toward the door. He tried to fight, but it did no good. When he loosened the grip of one, the other still held on tightly. When he stopped walking, they just dragged him though the castle, through the great hall where all his guests were dancing.

"Will none of you help me?" he cried out to the people.

No one did.

The east gate was opened and Prince Dairiad was dropped into the dirt.

"Don't worry, dear." Dairiad looked up to see his mother on the walkway, with his father, above the gate, lit by a torch carried by a guard. "You won't age and you won't die until you find a wife and bring her back. You can be King then."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, dusting himself off.

"Because we love you dear."

"Fine," he said, turning and walking away from the castle.

"Don't worry, my love," said The Queen to The King, "He'll be just fine."

"Who?" asked The King.

"You're son."

"He's leaving?" asked The King, who looked out over the gate waving and calling, "Good-bye, Dimples!"

Dairiad turned around and did the rudest gesture he could think of at his father.

He followed the road though the night. The next afternoon, he found a farm house he could sleep in and a farm girl he could sleep with.

I could stay here, he thought after he told the girl to leave the room so he could rest. They'd never know. I could be happy being served by a small family. He smiled to himself. That's the sort of life I want to lead. And he drifted off to sleep.

But that sort of life was not to be his.

Two days later, he was woken by pounding on the door. A small regiment of castle guards was waiting for him.

"We are to escort you to the Eastern Pass," said the greasy man, who Dairiad supposed was in charge. "We are to escort you and make sure you enter." Two other guards grabbed Dairiad and pulled him out the door. "We are to make sure you enter and not return with out a wife." Dairiad was dragged outside, the greasy man following. "If you try to enter without a wife, we are to carry you over the pass ourselves." The other guards tied Dairiad to a horse. "If we must carry you over the pass, we will break your feet first." The guards mounted their own horses. "When we break your feet, it will not be fast and it will be fun, for us." All the horses galloped to the east.

Three days of being strapped to a horse later, Dairiad was cut free and pushed to the ground.

"Go that way," said the greasy guard, pointing toward the mountains. "Don't come back alone."

Dairiad climbed to his feet and said, "I won't be long. And when I get back and become King, don't expect to live long." And he trudged into the mountains and out of his valley home.

Fifteen hundred years later, he still wasn't married.