Once Upon a Lie

The castle prison cells are cold and damp. Moss grows through the cracked cobblestone walls and mice nibble at the remains of unfortunate prisoners who did not see the light of day again. It is certainly no place for a princess, and yet here I stand, looking at my husband through iron bars. He is chained to the wall by his hands and feet, a wooden mask strapped to his face. The mask is rough and splintered with two eye holes but no mouth, made especially for him and his crimes. As bad as things ended between us, he is still my husband and I still love him.

“Hello Henrik,” I say, my voice delicate and trembling.

He glares at me, a tinge of anger swimming through his hazel eyes. I do not know what he would say if the mask was not stopping him from speaking. He turns his head away from me.

“Please, I miss you. I have not been the same with you here. How can I rest well knowing you are not by my side?”

Henrik shakes his head and writhes against his chains. Metal clangs against metal, echoing through the cell. Slowly, he tires and rests against the wall. His tunic is torn and tattered, and his once beautiful hair is now ragged and unkempt.

“You know,” I continue, hoping only that he will listen, “today is our wedding anniversary. one year ago we united our kingdoms.” I make sure no one is spying on us, as this conversation might be our last. “I know how much you loved the library. It is not the same without you. I cannot bring you a proper gift, so at least let me tell you a story.”

He looks at me, tilting his head slightly. I feel like I am speaking to a stranger with my husband’s eyes, the mask leaving little room for expression.

“Once upon a time, in the faraway kingdom of Duchanti, there was a princess. Let us call her Delilah. Princess Delilah was raised in the shadow of the Great War, a clash between humans and magicians. Queen Reyna, the last surviving member of the royal family, was a gracious ruler, a kind woman, and a loving mother. With King Soren, Delilah’s father, by her side, they rebuilt the empire to once again be a beacon of trust, loyalty, and above all, truth.”

“‘Magic stands against everything our kingdom is built upon,’ Queen Reyna would say. ‘It is the ultimate betrayal of the truth. Do you understand that, Delilah?’”

“‘Yes mama,’ the princess would reply, clutching her mother’s soft royal robes in her hands.”

“As the next in line for the throne, the princess was brought up to be perfect in every way, receiving the best education to ensure the kingdom was in the right hands. Her childhood was filled with lessons on history, language, art, mathematics, and culture. By the age of seven, she had memorised all the members of the royal court, knew the position and use of every formal piece of cutlery, and perfected my polite laugh, for it was rather unladylike to throw your head back and cackle to the heavens.”

“But do not let that fool you into thinking her childhood was dull and dreary. Between all her lessons and the constant reiteration of the dos and do-nots of being a princess, she would lose herself in good stories. The library shelves took her on adventures far beyond the castle walls and kept her safe within their pages. She could fight a dragon one day and visit the snowy south the next.”

“Despite their royal duties, like kissing babies, opening orphanages, and eradicating all magic in their land, the Queen and King doted on Delilah. They revelled in seeing their daughter flourish from a little girl to a beautiful young lady. In time, comfortable tunics were replaced with tight-fitting corsets, and her dresses became far more— poofy— for lack of better term.”

“And Delilah loved it all. The formal attire. The grand castle grounds. The prestige of being the daughter of Duchanti. She was not allowed to go anywhere without an escort, but they soon became her acquaintances. She was not allowed to play with the other children, but she found friends in the exciting books in her library. She certainly could not have asked for a better childhood, and she knew that the kingdom she had watched her parents rebuild would one day be hers.”

“But, for the sake of Duchanti, she could not stay her parent’s little girl forever.”

“On the winter solstice following her 18th birthday, her parents held a grand ball on the castle grounds; a night of dancing, laughter, and joyous festivities that would shape the future of Duchanti. They invited all the dignitaries from the neighbouring kingdoms in hopes that one of their sons might sweep Princess Delilah off her feet. And fortunately, one of them did.”

“Prince Henrik was from Orania, a neighbouring kingdom and coincidentally Duchanti’s largest trade partner. His hair was jet black on the night, slicked back with a strand that swooped over his eyes just as gently as they were. He was taller than Delilah, though that was not hard to manage. He was sweet and kind and charming, but a terrible dancer. He made Delilah laugh until she forgot how tight her corset was. For as long as she shall live, she shall never forget that night. The sky, an abyss of stars and dreams. The castle, all lit up in the winter’s cold. And being with Prince Henrik, fumbling their way through yet another waltz.”

“Their courting began swiftly after the winter ball. Prince Henrik would bring Delilah her favourite wildflowers from the woods between their two kingdoms as a symbol of his love.”

“‘For they are as beautiful and delicate as you are,’ he would say, handing her a fresh bouquet of small cream-white flowers with specs of crimson in their centres.”

Henrik shakes his head lightly, the chains clinking against each other.

I continue. “Within a month, Henrik and Delilah were saying ‘I do’ at the front of the royal throne room. The people of Duchanti and Orania cheered in their seats as the couple shared their first kiss. At long last, the two kingdoms were united.”

“But this is not like the fairy tales and nursery rhymes told to children to make them believe in happily ever after. However, my darling, rest assured, this story does end happily.”

Henrik tilted his head, squinting his eyes at me through the mask.

“The first weeks of married life were pure bliss. They would lay on the lawns of the castle grounds, spotting shapes in the clouds. They would walk hand in hand through Duchanti, ready to face whatever life would throw at them. They fell into a rhythm that Delilah thought would beat on till eternity.”

“But over time, Prince Henrik grew quieter and quieter, distancing himself from Delilah. She would frequently catch him staring at her while she read. And though that might sound romantic, his eyes held no love in them.”

“‘Is everything okay,’ the Princess would ask, reaching for his hand. At this, Henrik would flinch and pull away.”

“‘My apologies,’ he would reply, ‘I will join you again later.’”

“Countless nights he would mumble to himself, locked up in the library, the place that was once hers. But she needed to set an example. For her family. For her people. She allowed him his space, praying to the gods that one day he might return to his senses. How wrong Delilah was.”

Henrik lunges towards me, jerked back by the chains around his hands and feet. I flinch as his body thuds against the cold floor, popping his shoulder out of place. He breathes heavily, now laying on the ground in pain. Hesitantly, I continue with my story, hoping my words will reach him and provide some comfort. My eyes fall to my hands, now fidgeting with the ends of my dress.

“The winter solstice was but a month away when he accused her of— witchcraft. In the halls of the West Wing, Henrik confronted her.”

“‘Delilah,’ he said, stopping by the window that overlooked the nearby village. ‘Is everything okay? I have noticed you have been— distracted lately.’”

“‘Of course, my dear,’ she replied, sensing something else was on his mind. ‘Everything is quite well.’”

“‘You are sure? There is nothing you wish to tell me?’ he questioned.”

“‘You know I cannot hide anything from you,’ she replied, taking his hand in hers and rubbing it gingerly. But as she smiled and pulled away, he tightened his grip on her hand.”

“‘I have been watching you,’ he sneered. ‘I have seen you using magic.’”

“‘What?’ she recoiled from him, shocked he could speak such accusations. ‘You know it is forbidden to cast, even for royals. How could you—’”

“‘Enough lies!’ Henrik shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls and through the corridor.”

“‘What is the meaning of this?’ Queen Reyna called as she approached, followed closely by King Soren.”

“‘Your majesties, my apologies,’ Henrik said, bowing low, ‘but your daughter is not who she appears to be. She has been using magic to sway the minds of the people when her lies will not grant her what she wishes.’”

“The Queen and King looked at each other, then back at their daughter. In that moment, Delilah’s heart sunk. Her own mother and father, whom she loved, would suspect her guilt.”

“‘Is this true, Delilah?’ her mother asked, her eyebrows knitted into a frown.”

“‘Of course not. You must not believe Henrik,’ Delilah pleaded. For a mere moment, the truth was revealed to her. A glimpse of violet rested around the Queen’s eyes, clearly hexed by the real sorcerer here. ‘You must trust me! Your gaze has been bewitched!’”

“‘Delilah,’ the King said, his eyes also polluted with a violet haze, ‘we cannot allow you to—’”

“‘Please, you must believe me,’ Delilah pleaded. ‘I would never lie and put this kingdom at risk.’”

“‘Neither would I, your majesties,’ Henrik interrupted, ‘and I can prove it.’ Delilah did not know if it was Henrik doing this, but she could see that he too had been hexed. The eyes she saw were not his, but that of someone else’s.”

“‘I have heard enough from the both of you,’ the Queen yelled, silencing them all. She drew in her breath and stared deeply into her daughter’s eyes. Thankfully, Delilah could see her own irises in the Queen’s, untouched by magic.”

“‘Guards,’ Queen Reyna said, ‘arrest this man.’”

“‘What? No!’ Henrik shouted, filling with anger as he glanced from the guards to the Queen and King to Delilah. ‘Do not believe her tricks. She is a witch! She is a liar!’”

“‘Enough! Take him to the dungeon,’ King Soren commanded.”

“Two guards seized Henrik and dragged him away, his heels skidding on the floor as he writhed in their grip.”

“‘You will regret this, Delilah!’ His shouts echoed through the corridor. ‘You will not get away with this!’”

“Delilah could not help but tear up and fall to her knees, seeing the one she loved turn against her. Her parents held her in their arms and assured Delilah that everything would be okay.”

“For treason against the royal family and corrupting the people of Duchanti in unseen ways, Henrik was sentenced to live out his days in silence. The wooden mask he wore would hide his face from the world, for the kingdom was no place for liars. His charms may have been strong enough to sway so many others. But a kingdom built on truth will always find it.”

Henrik breathes slowly from the floor, his chest rising and falling.

“Are— are you okay?” I ask him, wishing these bars were not keeping us apart.

Though he can hear me, my words fall on deaf ears. Henrik heaves himself up and pushes his back against the wall, fixing his shoulder before slumping against it.

Even after all he has put me through, the lies, the accusations, the heartache, I still love Henrik. And no matter what he might say or do, there is no stopping that.

“I wish it did not end this way. I wanted our story to go on. I would have given you anything your heart desired if only you would ask for it.” My voice catches in my throat, and before I know it, I am on my knees with tears puddling at the bottom of my eyelids. I am ruining my dress, mushing dirt and filth into it. But I do not care. How can I go on without my husband?

“I will not rest until I find who did this to you and show everyone the truth.” Tears blur my vision. My chest tightens.

A quiet clink of chains meets my ears. I look up and see him leaning towards me, his eyes finally meeting mine. But these are different eyes, now kinder and full of love. There is my husband. There is the man I fell in love with, the one who returned my “I do” at the altar. He reaches his hand out to me, as if by some great power, he could transcend his chains and hold me close.

“You have no idea how hard it is to see you like this. I do not know how I can go on.”

I continue to sob like a child, my breath shaky and quick.

“It is almost as hard as— keeping up this story everyone believes.” My cries slowly become quieter, evolving into a chuckle, then a laugh that echoes through Henrik’s cell. Like I said, this story does have a happy ending.

“Ah,” I regain my composure, taking a deep breath and wiping my cheeks with the corner of my sleeve. “Did you enjoy my little performance?” I cannot help but smile widely, watching hope drain from what little face I can see behind his mask.

Henrik’s eyes widen and his hand falls to his side, clanking the chain around his wrist.

“I must hand it to you, I am impressed. You were the only one to resist my spells and peer through my lies. How you managed to do it— well, I do not really care. Because now you are the big bad prince imprisoned for treason against the royal family.” I rise to my feet.

“I must thank you terribly,” I continue. “Without you, I would not be the hero of Duchanti, saving the people from the evil prince, sent to seduce the delicate and innocent princess only to break her heart and turn against the kingdom. Heavens knows what else you lied about. Perhaps the peace treaty between our kingdoms? Perhaps you were secretly plotting to kill Queen Reyna and King Soren and take their place?”

His chains rattle as he shakes his head.

“What is that you say? You love my parents? Oh, what a joke. Those two are unlovable. They put their duty before their daughter, forcing me to be what they wanted and what the people wanted. Did they ever consider what I wanted? Of course, they did not. I did not just grow up in the shadow of the Great War, I grew up in the shadow of my mother. She is perfect. She is the people’s queen. She can do no wrong. How is anyone meant to live up to that?”

“When I was little, I would sneak into the castle crypt and study the old magic used to make this kingdom what it is. It started as small spells, changing the colour of leaves or moving pebbles with a wave of my hand. But over time, I learned how to sway people’s minds. If my lies were not enough to get me what I wanted, then a little magic would surely work.”

Henrik turns his head away from me.

“Do not be sad, darling. I did not need any magic to win you over. A well-placed laugh, a gentle brush of your upper arm, and a carefully chosen glance was all that I needed. You really think out of all the suitors at that ball, I would let myself fall for you?”

His eyes well with tears, realising his heart has betrayed his mind. His body slumps lower against the wall.

“And while we are getting everything off our chests, I really did love those flowers you brought me while we were courting. Do you know what they are called?

My question is met with silence, spare the scurry of mice. I pull out a flower from under my dress and twirl it between my fingers.

“Neureium Oleander. They are quite beautiful and delicate. But also, highly poisonous, and deadly when ingested. My escorts would not leave my side long enough for me to collect the flowers myself. And yet, we were drawn together as if by fate. You brought me more than enough to dispose of my parents, and anyone else that gets in my way.”

Henrik looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.

“I wonder who the people will blame for the death of the Queen and King, the innocent princess, clueless of how to help, or the evil prince who brought the poisonous flowers into the kingdom?”

His breathing grows heavy as he fills with anger.

“Oh, calm down. It is not too terrible in here. See,” I gesture to a mouse nibbling on a femur bone still chained to the floor, “you have a friend. Maybe you can talk to them. Oh, wait. You cannot.”

I raise my hand and a violet-coloured cloud swirls around the mouse, transfiguring it into a pile of black spiders that scurry away in every direction. Henrik has always been afraid of spiders, and recoils at their sight as they hide away in the shadows. I throw my head back and laugh, tossing the flower into his cell.

“Well, as lovely as our little chat has been, I really must be off. You know, lies to spin, kingdoms to rule, parents to kill.”

I turn and head for the stairs, hearing his chains rattle frantically.

“Happy anniversary, darling!”