The Brave Red Princess

Once upon a time in the Autumnal Kingdom, there lived a lonely princess named Scarlet. Like her late mother, Scarlet’s bronzed cheeks, rosy lips, and flaming-red tresses pleased her father King Crimson nearly as much as her fine mind and mettle.

Her only friend was the itinerant falcon Merewald, whose feathers blazed a mélange of orange, vermilion, and burgundy. Today, Mere, as she often called him, perched near the bow window distinguishing the monarch’s quarters, where she and the bird had been stashed away on His Majesty’s warship Harvester.

Scarlet’s beloved kingdom, where the woods and meadows once radiated the fulsomeness of peak autumn, was now inexplicably dying. Everything that once shone bright orange and deep red was decaying into a dull brown. Deep golden forests and wheat fields had fallen ashen gray, blighted by an unknown scourge.

A fortnight ago, King Crimson launched his warship in a desperate search of a lush, green realm to somehow save his. And if such a magical kingdom did not exist as rumored, or would not share their resources willingly, he had amassed a fearsome legion, now waterborne, to take what he needed forcefully.

“Cheer me, Mere.” Scarlet sighed. “What did you see stealing home today, crossing our lands and the Autumnal Sea?”

“Euonymus alatus lining fields, once capturing our sight and heart and soul? They now lay bare. Their leaves have turned to dust.”

Scarlet gasped. “The burning bushes are dead? Can you just say burning bush? My Latin is not as strong as it should be.”

“Alas, I dare not speak a dactyl foot,” Merewald said.

Verily, if burnished falcons spoke in other rhythms besides iambic verse, all their feathers fell out.

“Father will surely engage in war now. What else can he do?” Scarlet touched her rosy lips, frowning. “And I will die on this frigate. Without ever finding true love. Without ever being kissed. I’ve got to do something. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Thou may’st not leave this warship—king’s decree,” Mere said in his sing-song meter. “He greatly needs a counselor like thee.”

Scarlet drummed her fingers on the window ledge and peered out over the blue expanse. “He should consult Rusty occasionally.”

“Your brother does not know nor speak his mind.”

“How else is Rusty going to learn? By being tried and tested as I was. Come on, Mere. We can sneak out this window and return before the king knows we’re gone. Please?”

“Mayhaps his cannonade will strike us down.”

Scarlet fell silent. “What if...we could be instruments of peace instead of conquest?”

Merewald snapped to attention. “Then grab my wings, and we shall sail the skies.”

She whooped, removed her cone-shaped hat, and threw open the sash to the bay window, clutching his six-foot wings. “Let’s fly!”

They cleared the stern’s rail and soared aloft, above the bay.

Far away, in the Vernal Kingdom, the handsome prince Verdant lolled on his bed, his pet mouse Daffodil beside him. Both mouse and master sported flaxen-colored hair though Verdant’s chin-length locks were decidedly silkier.

Daffodil began:

There once was a prince named Verdant.

Who had everything he could want.

In white, green, or yellow; and purples, if mellow.

But he longed for a brave debutante.

“Enough, Daffodil! Your limericks mock my loneliness.”

A guard rapped at his chamber door. “His Royal Highness!”

King Verdurous strutted inside.

Verdant bowed.

“Rise, my son. My spies tell me the kingdom is on the brink of war. A foreign king’s warship approaches our harbor.”

“Who, Father?”

“King Crimson and his people are from a dying world, an eternal autumn. They need to conquer us to survive. Gather your things. The Equinox is being loaded with cannons as we speak. You will sail immediately.”

Verdant bowed in deference but hid his disappointment until his father left the tower. “Damn it all.”

Undaunted by the king’s order, Daffodil spoke:

A smart fellow climbed down a wall.

Some pickets, like claws, broke his fall.

Along with his mouse, they left the great house

To search for a lass to enthrall.

Verdant grinned, grabbing several wooden spears piled in the corner. “That’s it, Dafi. You’re a genius!”

From his window, Prince Verdant tucked Daffodil into his doublet pocket, dug the spears into the mossy crevices of the tower’s quarried walls, and eased himself to the ground. Then he raced off, first through acres of spring barley, then the abundant flaxen fields that Verdant's grandmamma believed marked the kingdom’s land boundary.

Verdant collapsed, panting. The mouse ran up his leg. “No good, Dafi. The flax is never ending. I’ll never escape my father’s command to lead Vernal into war.”

A raptor’s screech pierced their respite. Daffodil scurried back inside Verdant’s pocket, grumbling:

Big birds and I don’t get along.

I quail at the raptor’s song.

I’m also quite tasty.

So, let us be hasty.

We really must get a move on…

“Shush!” Verdant rose to his feet.

A red falcon with a wingspan as wide as a cornstalk flew within cubits of his head. Verdant flailed his arms, guarding his face. But he was the prince of this kingdom and would not be run off it, not even by a predatory bird. He lifted his gaze to the firebird, and a vision of a girl appeared before him. One with rosy cheeks, ruby red lips, and flaming red locks, who rode atop the bird. His heart raced, but she was a stranger after all, during a time when his country would soon be under siege. “Maiden! Abandon that raptor.” He did not know the intent of her visit. “Surrender to me at once.”

Merewald landed abruptly. Scarlet tumbled off, straightened her skirts, and approached the prince.

“You’re trespassing, miss,” Verdant said, sword drawn.

Scarlet gasped, glancing around, offering neither bow nor curtsey. “Your kingdom...it’s so, so green.” She inhaled deeply. “Fresh. Lovely.”

This young woman, likely a royal herself, glowed resplendently in red. A peerless beauty, if he were being honest.

She stepped forward. “I’m Princess Scarlet of the Autumnal Kingdom. I come in peace.”

“So you say.” He lifted his sword to her throat.

The raptor screeched menacingly.

Undaunted, Scarlet raised her hand and brandished a golden ring with a royal insignia. “My stamp and seal.”

Verdant examined the exquisite carving on her gold band, and he sheathed his sword. “I’m Verdant, Prince of Vernal. You are cordial enough, but our spies tell us that your warship nears our harbor. You and this great ruddy vulture here are plotting our demise.”

Merewald harrumphed.

“Falcon,” Scarlet corrected. “He’s a burnished falcon.”

Daffodil poked his head out from the Prince’s pocket.

“He eats his prey live,” Scarlet explained.

Daffodil scurried under Verdant’s coat.

“I don’t want this invasion,” Scarlet said. “I want to find a way to stop it.”

He brightened. “We’ve more in common than I thought, Princess. I don’t want to go to war any more than you do.”

“Just think. All the beauty of this realm. A war between our kingdoms would lay everything before us in waste. Can we stop this conflict?” she asked. “You and I, working together?”

“We may be too late,” Verdant said. “My Father’s warship, the Equinox, is headed to sea imminently.”

Scarlet was studying his face. Did she find him as enchanting as he found her? Then she asked, “Isn’t it worth a try?”

His heart lifted. He felt giddy, dumbfounded. “I suppose it is. I’m at your service.”

On Merewald’s wings, Scarlet and Verdant flew to King Crimson’s flagship, the Harvester, alighting on the deck. Her father was rallying men as they landed.

“Sire,” she called. “This is Prince Verdant, Father.”

King Crimson approached, glowering. “Of the Vernal Kingdom? Are you a traitor, Scarlet? Is he not our sworn enemy?”

His men surrounded them, swords drawn. Verdant’s hand rested on his scabbard.

She grabbed Prince Verdant by the epaulets. Instantly, her hands buzzed as though infused with shooting stars. “Let’s stop this war,” she whispered, drawing him close, her heart afire, and kissing him as though the fates of their two worlds hung on their embrace.

As their lips met, time seemingly stood still as sparks followed by a blustery wind, dried leaves, snowflakes, and warm rain first swirled around the young couple and then engulfed the entire ship. The Harvester shuddered as the ocean froze solid. The Equinox could never leave its moorings to attack or defend. There would be no war between the two kingdoms.

“Zounds! What just happened?” cried Merewald, and he immediately lost all his feathers. Daffodil scurried down from Verdant’s coat pocket, gathering them, muttering:

There once was a naked bird.

Without feathers, he looked quite absurd...

This time, Prince Verdant was far too distracted to shush his furry little friend.

After harvest, Scarlet and Verdant married, uniting their kingdoms. They had two children—Yule, a wintry boy; and Lyra, a summery girl. The people of Autumnal and Vernal now experienced every season, every year—from spring planting to summer solstice, from fall harvest to winter solstice.

And Scarlet, Verdant, their two children, Merewald, and Daffodil lived happily ever after.