The Lost Princess

Chapter 5

I quicken my pace to catch up with the man.

Studying him slightly once more, I realize that he couldn’t be much older than me….maybe 22?

I take a second to really admire the beautiful house I’m in. it doesn’t look old and dirty or anything, but more of a rustic castle feel. Come to think of it, this place IS as big as a castle. Everything is masterfully decorated, from the handrails to the walls, to the drapes, to the windows, to the marble floors and carpets…everything.

I run into the man’s back by accident, not realizing his sudden stop. He mumbles something about my clumsiness and swings open two ridiculously large carved wooden doors, leading to a dining hall of some sort. He shifts slightly so he can take hold of my shoulder, shoving alongside him into it. He points straight at a chair and shoots daggers at me.

“Sit.” He states, voice dripping with annoyance and hate. Somehow, it hurts that he hates me so much, when HE’S the one who’s kidnapped me. I should hate him. But…I actually don’t think I do.

“Hello, Francesca.”

I jump slightly in my seat as I look up across the enormous table to see 2 sets of  men and a woman, sitting close to each other and looking pointedly at me. The women are smiling, and the men have a slight smile plastered on his face.

“H-hello, there.” I sputter out. They actually look quite nice, so I take a chance and ask, “Where am I?”

One of the men crosses his hands.

“You’re on a quite large island off of the coast of Europe, called Venera.”

“I’ve never heard of….Venera?” I question.

The man, now sitting 3 chairs down from me, yells in a booming voice, “YES, Venera, you insignificant little—“

“Enough out of you, son, how dare you!” One of the women say. Obviously, his mother.

His words actually tore at my heart a little bit. I’ve never had a complete stranger hate me so.

“Well, why am I here?”

The other woman at the table turns to what I’m assuming is her husband, nodding that she will explain. She starts, “Because this is your home, love. This is your actual home. And your actual life.”

Are these people fucking nuts?

“Language, please,” her husbands informs me.

What?!

I’m entirely sure I spoke that in my head.

“I didn’t say—what? What are you saying, I don’t understand---“ I start to babble out.

“That family, those friends, and that life you had back in England….wasn’t yours,” she takes a breath to think of how to start her story, “I was a regular girl from Georgia when your father came along.”

She glances at the man next to her lovingly and continues. “Long story short, we fell in love and we had you when we’d just turned 20, quite young. But, after our marriage and your birth, he told me that he was of noble blood, a prince. Of course I didn’t know about it because he was only known about in Venera. I wondered why he decided to tell me after the fact, and why I’d never heard of Venera, and he explained that he’s not allowed to marry outside of royalty, to keep the bloodlines pure. But he loved me so much, that he didn’t care, and didn’t want me to know and change my mind.” She smiles.

“So, when my parents found out what I’d done,” her husband continues, “They sent for me, and tried to exterminate you and your mother, but I obviously couldn’t let that happen. So before they could reach us, your mother ran. And the day after that, on Halloween night, I sent one of my good friends out to bring you to a safe location in America, but he ended up being caught by guards and killed on the underground train.” He stops and his mouth forms into a straight line. His wife runs circles on the top of his hand, and he squeezes her hand. “And you were left abandoned. I couldn’t escape the castle in order to find you and I had no contact with your mother, so I was lost. I had one of the maids, who happens to be a witch, put a spell on you that left you that unique scar, so we could always find you. After a few months, war broke out between the King and Queen of the two noble families. Mine, the Renalde’s, and the Blackmores.”

 He looks over at the other couple at the table and they slightly cringe.

“And they forgot all about keeping me from your mother, so I managed to escape and find her. We went to find you, hoping you were in an orphanage or something so we could be a family again. And you were, but you had been adopted already. We tried everything, but there was no way to ever find a child with that exact scar on their hand. And we lost hope of ever finding you again.” He finished his part of the story.

His wife continues, “So we went back to the maid, and she said that if there were ever hope of finding you again, it would be on the train where you were first abandoned, on the night that you were first lost. That’s where her location spell would be the strongest. Which is Halloween, on the Picadilly train route.  So every year, we send for a group to scout the train and look for you. And after 19 years, here you are.” She breathes out deeply and smiles.

I didn’t even notice the tears forming in my eyes.

I believe them.

I thought I was being kidnapped, but I was just being brought back to where I really belong.

I never looked like either of my ‘parents’, they never cared for me like parents were supposed to. They never once said ‘I love you’ all my life. It was like they were stuck with me. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I know they’re being truthful.

“I always knew I didn’t belong there.” I cry.

I push back out of my seat and stand, walking over to them quickly. I reach them, and they’re both standing already. I engulf them in a hug.

“So, you’re both my parents?” I ask. “My actual parents?”

I feel them nodding on the top of my head as they hug me tighter. My uncontrollable tears begin to soak their very posh clothing, and I pull away, wiping my tears.

I look up at them, and they’re crying, as well.

“I’m Lily, and this is Duncan.” She says.

“And yes, we are your parents.” My father adds with a smile.

Through my tears, my smile shines through. They are my parents, I look like a perfect mix of both.

“Oh, where are my manners? These are the Blackmores, the King and Queen.” My mothers adds, wiping a few tears away.

They were already standing, looking at me with a smile. They walked over and gave me warm hugs from each.

Then, I became curious.

“Wait, weren’t our families at war?”

“That was our parents, the previous Kings and Queens. They were killed in war, simply by greed over land, power, and” King Blackmore cut himself off from saying anything farther, receiving startled looks from everyone in the room. “But our generation of rule wants peace, which is exactly what we have,” he adds with a smile.

Queen Blackmore runs over and drags the boy from his chair, quickly walking back over to us. I hold my mother and fathers hands, still crying slightly.

“And this is our son, Harold, or Harry. Prince Blackmore.” She says, pushing him forward. “He’s the one who’s brought you home!”

“And for that, again, we’re in your debt. You brought our lost princess home.” My father says, bowing slightly.

“You’re in our debt for no such thing, it’s an honor to hold the title of her saviors. And Princess, I hope Harry was kind to you?” the Queen adds.

I mentally scoff.

So…

His name is Harold.

I’m just remembering that somewhere in that whole life story, my father stated that he knew a WITCH who gave me this scar. Heh? I’d have to ask them later.

I badly want to know what else our families were fighting about, since it seems that King Blackmore wasn’t allowed to tell me.

3. And…… I’m Princess Renalde?