Chapter Text
From the moment she was born, Lilavetta was told never to leave the castle walls. “Don’t go there,” her parents and servants would say. “There’s creatures who are hiding in the dark, and they’ll drag you there with them.”
The creatures they spoke of were the elusive shiron, who crept and crawled in the shadows. The shiron were more dangerous than any other creature. More dangerous than the razor scaled ulopë who swam in the shallows, and more dangerous still than the sharp beaked saisu that flew through the skies. Lilavetta had been attacked by a saisu when she was just five, and could not imagine something more dangerous and terrifying than a massive bird who could carry her off in its beak. Her wrists and stomach bore horrendous scars from the ordeal.
And so she had never dared to leave the safety of the castle’s great walls. She played with children in the courtyard, drank with nobles in the great dining hall, and slept in rooms decorated with pink lace and cream curtains. The world was so big, so vast, so dangerous. Within the castle, she never had to go far. Within the castle, she was safe.
Her servants attended her dutifully. Such was the requirement when one was the servant of a princess. Princess Lilavetta Isidor Lieselotte Yildrim. Such a mouthful for a girl so young. For a while, her servants stumbled through the syllables, until one day her nursemaid Hanna had simply called her Lilli. To them, she had been Lilli ever since. To the kingdom, she was Princess Lilavetta, daughter of King Conrad Felix Yildrim and Queen Sophia Isidor Yildrim, née Becker. The sole inheritor of the crown.
In the great hall of the castle, a tapestry was hung. The threads were woven to form the picture of a man, clad in ruby robes, with a golden crown atop his head. In one hand was a curved, wicked staff. The other hand was lost to shadow, woven from black wool. He was known as the Crooked King, the first ruler of the kingdom of Pruisa. He was the ruler before the kingdom had a name. He was the ruler long before anyone else lived in the kingdom.
The Crooked King was a young man when he fled his native kingdom of Gruesege. He was a thief, and had become to confident in his skills; before the kings men could drag him to his fate in the dungeons, he managed to escape. The only place he could run was the Never Wood, the dangerous forest that bordered Gruesege. Little were foolish enough to enter the Never Wood, but the Crooked King was desperate. It was the forest or the dungeon. He chose the forest.
The Never Wood, of course, was home to the fearsome shiron, who had terrorized the people of Gruesege for generations. The Crooked King tried to outrun them, but can anyone really outrun a shadow? The shiron were never more than a pace behind.
A young shiro caught him first, and did what all shiron did: offered him his deepest desires while taking on the form of what he craved. To the Crooked King, a beutiful woman offered to pardon his crime. There was only a small cost: a piece of his mind, his consciousness. Just a small piece.
The Crooked King was pardoned, but he did not stop there. Why return, to a life of thievery, when he could have anything else he desired? So he next asked the shiro for a castle, and he to be it’s king. If he was a king, he’d never have to steal again.
The shiro created a beautiful castle, riddled with hidden passages and great chambers. The Crooked King asked for the vault to be filled with gold, and the shiro complied. The Crooked King asked for a pantry and cellar that would never empty, and the shiro complied. By then, the Crooked King was completely under the shiro’s spell. No one who heard the story was shocked to learn what happened next.
The shiro had full control of the Crooked King and took him into the forest, someplace no one would ever find him again.
Word spread in Gruesege of a castle in the Never Wood, unihabitated and full of riches. Several brave folk ventured into the woods. One Maximus Felix Yildrim reached the castle, and claimed it for himself. He offered gold to anyone from Gruesege and beyond who would come and live in his kingdom. He helped chop down trees to build them houses, and those he bonded with were given a place at his court. The Crooked King may have been led astray, down a crooked path of greed, but this king would not. King Maximus, widely considered the first real king of Pruisa, ruled with kindness and grace until his death. His heir, Prince Emmet, took the throne.
Lilli had once asked Hanna why Maximus had stayed in the Never Wood. He could have easily taken the gold left behind the Crooked King, and created a kingdom somewhere without the threat of the shiron. For many of the kingdoms early settlers were dragged into the woods, never to be seen again. It took years before they learned the shiro’s weaknesses- heat, and light. They were less active in the day, when the sun was in the sky, and in the summer, when temperatures rose. They could be held back with fire, and so the kingdom was surrounded in bonfires, to be kept lit all night and all winter. A primitive and archaic form of their current defenses, a fence surrounding the kingdom that was kept ablaze throughout the night and on the coldest of winter days.
Hanna had told her that Maximus did not want to have to waste time building another castle, and that to build a castle someplace new would drain all his gold. So the people of Pruisa had learned to live with the threat of the shiron. Hanna explained that there were threats in all the kingdoms. Ambertine and Logós in the south shared its seas with fearsome useralopë, creatures bigger and more dangerous than the ulopë, which seemed small and harmless in comparison. Verit in the north faced wicked storms that tore down homes and crumbled cliffs. The people of Pruisa lived with the threat of the shiron, just as Ambertine lived with the useralopë and Verit lived with the storms.
Hanna always warned her, however, that just because they were used to the shiron, did not mean they shouldn’t fear them. They were still a threat, and a dangerous one. Anyone who crossed over the fence at night was lucky to come back as a stray. Most didn’t come back at all.
The strays were those who had managed to escape the hold of the shiron. But their brains were so muddled they couldn’t think straight. Everyone walked down a path in life, and they had gone astray.
So it was important Lilli never fell prey to the shiron. She was the kingdom's sole inheritor, and she could not rule the kingdom if she was dead or a stray. Strays could barely remember to eat. They certainly could not run a kingdom.
Lilli’s mother had had an awful childbirth, so awful the royal physicians warned her and Conrad that she likely couldn’t survive another. But Sophia and Conrad were content with Lilli, and loved her so. As long as she didn’t leave the castle walls, she would be safe from the shiron, and she would take over the kingdom when she came of age.
Lilli’s days were spent in royal lessons on etiquette and history and arithmetic. She learned the proper way to hold a fork, every king and queen of the neighbouring kingdom of Gruesege, and how to calculate the kingdom’s expenses. After her lessons, she would collapse in her bed, welcoming the warm embrace of her covers and the pages of a book. Lilli read all sorts of books: mysteries and adventured and dramas. But most of all, she read romances. Tales of princes and princesses, kings and queens, lovers and elicit affairs. Hanna would tsk at her, for the notion of a prince coming and swooping Lilli of her feet was preposterous. Hardly anyone came to Pruisa, for the journey through the Never Wood was long and arduous. Possible, but difficult. Not to be taken unless absolutely nesscesary.
She sometimes heard tales about the places past the fence from noble children. Lady Mila, who was just shy of her sixteenth summer, once told Lilli how she and the handsome Lord Mikael had once snuck past the fence to a waterfall just beyond. The path was trod often, and thus lined with torches to be lit along the way, to ward off the shiron. Apparently the waterfall was a popular destination for bored children and paramours alike.
Lilli craved companionship just as much as she craved fairy tale love. She had her mother and father, but being the king and queen kept them busy. She had Hanna, but Hanna was nowhere near her age. Most of the noble children were either jealous or spiteful toward her. They smiled at her face but whispered behind her back. They thought her kind and beautiful, then stupid and naive. They wished her all the best, then wished her dead, if only they could take her place.
Her one source of true companionship, from someone her own age, was in Isolde. But even Isolde came with complications. For Isolde was the bastard daughter of a stablehand. And while the working class of Pruisa were treated fairly well, better than in Gruesege, the princess was not to mingle with them. Keeping the royalty away from the poor kept up their display of power, for when one is told they can’t have something, they only want it more. If one cannot mingle with a royal, they will only work harder so that they can.
Isolde was fair haired and broad shouldered, as she spent her days with her mother mucking out stalls and keeping the horses in good health. Pruisa didn’t have too many horses, as the kingdom was easily traversable on foot. But they were kept for the rare occasions one must travel out of Pruisa, provided they have a good reason.
Lilli would sneak to the stables as often she could and lie in the hay next to Isolde, surrounded by the comforting scent of wood and cobblestones. The only one who knew of their friendship was Hanna, and while she did not approve, she did not tell. She knew the comfort Isolde’s friendship brought Lilli, and while she may tsk at her over her silly romantic notions, she truly did care for her.
Today Lilli lay in the hay at the back of Lio’s stall. Lio was a great stallion with a dark coat and a braided mane. Lilli listened to his wheezing breaths and the gentle clop of his hooves. Next to her lay Isolde, whose brown eyes glowed in the sun that filtered through the stall window.
“What book has been occupying your time, Lilli?” Isolde asked. Isolde could read basic words and phrases, but not story books in the way Lilli could. Lilli had tried teaching her once, but Isolde found the whole ordeal a waste of time. A stable girl had no use for reading.
Lilli recounted to her The Tale of Sara Schulz, a story of a quiet lady and the boisterous prince that falls for her.
“Why are there no princes sneaking through my window at night,” Isolde pouted, running her fingers through her hair. “I would make a fine princess indeed. Not as fine as you, of course,” she added quickly.
“I wish you were a princess too,” Lilli said, and she meant it honestly. “Then perhaps we could sit next to each other at royal dinners, and receive lessons from the royal tutors. We wouldn’t have to spend all our time in the stables.”
Isolde sighed. “What a fine thing that would be. What a fine thing indeed.”
The two lay together until the sun began to set, and Lilli had to say her goodbyes. She retreated to her chamber and let Hanna brush her hair and clean the dirt and hay from her face.
Dinners as the princess of Pruisa were an arduous affair. Hanna would yank her hair into a series of twisting knots, braiding in soft cream ribbons and little flowers. She would be dressed in stockings and bloomers, a lace chemise, and a frilled and ruffled gown. Sometimes peach, sometimes evergreen, sometimes blush; all depending on the day. If they were to eat in the great dining hall, with its stormy blue velvet upholstery, blush would stand out well; but in the ballroom with the red curtains, evergreen would be better suited.
Dinners were Lilli’s least favourite princess duty. Having to sit, back straight and chin up, for hours on end, was exhausting. Having to think before every bite if she had selected the correct piece of cutlery, and having to wonder if the angle she tilted her glass back was unladylike, were very trivial things indeed.
And having to entertain the nobles who envied and despised her was the worst of all. Having to spend time with Lady Mila as if they were the best of friends was draining. The only thing that got her through was the thought of returning to her stories at the day’s end.
Her room had great bookcases filled with leather wrapped tomes. Some were from Pruisa’s library, some from neighbouring kingdoms, and some she had been gifted, their origin unknown.
Dinner that night was surprisingly bearable, as Lady Mila could not attend due to sickness. Lilli ate carefully as always, and stayed quiet as always. Hardly anyone but her parents even looked at her tonight. Everyone was caught up in an intense argument about war, too wrapped up in their words to glance at the princess. All the better for Lilli, especially when she selected the wrong fork to eat her chicken, a careless mistake. Hanna would shake her head disapprovingly if she knew. But she wouldn’t.
After dinner and washing up, Lilli read under the covers until her eyes grew groggy and sleep claimed her, just as the shiron claimed their prey: in darkness and in night