Once Upon A Princess

16: Home

Gell is so much prettier than Avenor, Prince Theolon thought to himself as he looked out the window of the carriage. The scenery had gradually changed from the unfamiliar — dense tree lines, rolling hills full of orchards, and small, clean villages — to the familiar: foggy coastlines, sparse and towering pine trees, and crowded towns.

There'd been a strange pit in his stomach all the time he'd been in that foreign country. Now that he was finally in his homeland again, the weight was lifted. Something was comforting about the salty tang in the air, the cloudy skies, the dark colors in the architecture. It all screamed home, even if home was still a concept Theolon — Theo to his friends and family — had a hard time wrapping his head around.

He'd been traveling for what felt like ages, but he preferred the changing landscape and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements to monotonous meetings and the same view every morning. He always seemed to get antsy if he wasn't moving around. His parents said it was normal for a boy of thirteen, but it felt different than just wanting a bit of exercise. Sitting in his carriage, he felt that time and adventures were slipping away from him.

And that had certainly been the strangest adventure he'd ever been on. Before then, he'd never been cursed by a witch, though he'd met a handful. He'd never had to find his way around unfamiliar territory alone, which seemed to him the scariest part when he thought back to it. He also, he thought for what felt like the thousandth time, had never met such an annoying princess before.

Amelia was unlike any princess Theo had the pleasure of meeting. He vaguely remembered her when they'd met as small children. That Amelia was chubby, clingy, and clumsy. Easy to tease, but much too sensitive to really bother. She was different now, but in ways that Theo didn't really understand. She was more defensive, more secretive.

Thinking about it, she was unlike anyone he'd ever met. At least as far as he'd really gotten to know her. She was many facets: one side sympathetic, the other somehow cruel. Stubborn, but willing to please. Grounded but constantly seen daydreaming. And she certainly did not have the habits of a princess: Theo found himself laughing thinking about how he'd never once seen her without at least some dirt on her dress. She never seemed to put her hair up; it always hung free to tangle itself into knots.

Overall though, Princess Amelia was annoying. Annoying to talk to, annoying to deal with. It was her fault that he'd been in that horrible frog form for so long. All because she didn't want to kiss a frog for her first time. How silly! As if that would count as a first kiss to anybody.

In the back of his mind, Theo wished he'd never have to see her again. But another part of him, his conscious thoughts, couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. She had been a central focal point to his world for only a short time, and he couldn't seem to move on. Constantly, he found his idle thoughts thinking of her sapphire eyes, her wildfire hair, her pink lips with that perfect cupid's bow. Shaking her out of his head was harder than he'd thought. Ech.

He didn't realize how much he'd missed the castle until he rolled through the iron gates. The castle at Avenor had been gray stone, harsh angles and foreboding squares. The castle he lived in was smooth obsidian, shiny and reflective. The towers were skinny, shorter; the architecture arched and sloped. It was much more elegant, in his opinion.

The gardens were stationed in the back of the castle, and not the front like Avenor's had been. All he had to look at as the carriage rode to the castle gates was a long paved driveway.

He wasn't surprised to see who was greeting him at the gates, or rather, who wasn't there at all. Standing with anxious hands intertwined were his mother and, by her side, his little sister. He barely stepped out of the carriage before they were on him, searching for any sign of ailment that could be inflicting him. His mother, Morcia, Queen of Gell, had both her hands on the side of his face, her face pressed with worry lines. His sister, Mia, only two years of age, had a firm grip on his leg and did not look to be letting go anytime soon.