Under The Bridge

Chapter 1: The Prince's Story

   Chapter 1: The Prince's Story

   Once upon a time, there was an honorable and brave prince beloved by everyone in the land. He was not like the princes of legend who sought to slay dragons or rescue damsels from distant towers. This prince had a single wish, far simpler yet infinitely more profound: he wanted happiness for all.

   But there was a terrible problem. The prince was gravely ill, confined to his bed for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Just as hope would flicker to life and his health would seem to improve, a new wave of sickness would sweep over him, sapping his strength and returning him to his helpless state.

   His family was devastated by his suffering. The stern and unyielding king believed the prince's sickness to be a curse—a punishment inflicted upon their family by the magical creatures he had banished from the kingdom. His rage against these creatures, whom he had driven into hiding, only intensified. The queen, however, carried a different burden. She suspected that her son's illness stemmed not from an external curse, but from the deep sadness he felt over the harsh way his father had treated the creatures of the land. Time wore on, and hope seemed to wane.

   Then, one fateful night, hope came from the unlikeliest of places. A clumsy young troll—one of the very creatures the king had sought to eradicate—had snuck into the palace. As he scaled the castle walls, in search of an open window, his grasp slipped, and with a crash, he tumbled through the open window of the prince's chambers. The sound of shattering glass jolted the Queen, who had been sitting by her son's bedside, from her quiet vigil. She turned, her heart racing, to find a wide-eyed, terrified troll lying in a heap on the floor. His large, gangly limbs sprawled awkwardly across the marble, and for a moment, the room was frozen in shocked silence.

The troll scrambled to his feet, his movements jerky with fear, his gaze darting between the prince and the queen. He stammered out an apology, bowing low, his shaggy hair nearly brushing the floor. The queen, though startled, didn't scream or call for the guards. Something in the troll's frightened expression and the urgency in his eyes made her pause.

"What are you doing here?" the queen asked, her voice steady though her heart pounded in her chest.

The troll wrung his hands nervously. "I—I came to help," he said, his voice shaking. "I heard the prince was sick, and I know a way to cure him."

The queen's breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced with questions, suspicions, and a flicker of hope. She knew trolls were known for their cunning and trickery, but something about this troll seemed different—desperate, perhaps.

"Help? How could you help?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The troll swallowed hard, his face pale beneath his coarse, greenish skin. "Troll blood. It has healing properties, magic that runs deep through our kind. A single drop could save your son."

The queen's heart leaped at the prospect, but she didn't let it show. "And what do you want in return?" she asked, her voice cautious.

The troll hesitated, looking down at his feet. "Only one thing," he said finally, his voice soft. "Promise me the king will stop hunting us. Promise me the creatures of this land will no longer be harmed."

The queen's eyes widened. This troll wasn't asking for riches or power—he wanted peace. A part of her wanted to accept immediately, but she knew how fragile her husband's temper could be, how his hatred for magical creatures had only deepened over the years.

"If the king breaks his word," the troll continued, his voice firmer now, "the magic in my blood will cease to work, and your son will never heal."

The queen's mind raced. She was a mother first, and seeing her son suffer day after day was unbearable. She had to take the chance.

"I swear it," she whispered. "If your blood heals my son, I will do everything in my power to stop the king's war on your kind."

The troll nodded solemnly. With a quick motion, he nicked his arm, drawing a single drop of blood and letting it fall into a silver cup. The queen took the cup with trembling hands, her eyes flicking from the troll to her son.

With a whispered prayer, she pressed the cup to her son's lips.

By the next morning, the prince was miraculously healed. His strength returned, his fever vanished, and the color flooded back into his cheeks. The kingdom rejoiced, unaware of the quiet promise made that night between a queen and a troll. The queen, true to her word, did everything she could to temper the king's anger and protect the magical creatures still hidden in the land. For a time, peace returned.

But such promises are not so easily kept.