Fairy tales for young and old ~ English version

The Beauty of the Heart

 In the land of Kanate, where the rivers sang and the forests whispered secrets of old, there was a kingdom known for its unparalleled beauty. Yet, within its borders, there lived a princess who was the subject of much sorrowful talk. Princess Sionia, the kindest soul in all the realms, bore the scars of a life marred by tragedy. Her leg, lost in a fateful accident, was replaced by one of carved wood, and her features were such that no bard sang of her beauty.

Princess Sionia's features were a stark contrast to the ideals of her time. Her face, asymmetrical and marked by the tales of life's capricious hand, held a smile that was sincere and unwavering. Her form was sturdy, far from the delicate frames that courtly portraits immortalized. Her nose, prominent and unrefined, was a trait that drew scornful glances. And her wooden leg, a testament to her resilience, was viewed not as a symbol of strength but as a blemish upon royal perfection.

The people of Kanate, swayed by shallow standards, spoke of her with disdain, their words as sharp as thorns. "She is the antithesis of beauty," they would say, their voices dripping with mockery. "No prince would dare to claim her hand, for fear of aligning with ugliness."

Sionia's wooden leg, a testament to her survival from a grievous accident, served as a constant reminder of her perceived imperfections. Suitors from neighboring realms turned their gaze away, and cruel nobles hid snickers behind ornate fans. Despite the rejection and mockery, Sionia's heart remained untainted by bitterness, her actions a beacon of unwavering compassion.

King Dinodas, Sionia's father, watched with a heavy heart as his beloved daughter faced the world's unkindness. He would often say, "My dear Sionia, in my eyes, you are the epitome of beauty." His words were a balm, yet the sting of rejection lingered in the air like a persistent fog.

One fateful day, the ground trembled with the arrival of King Ettrian of Brulavon, a ruler whose name evoked fear across the lands. His reputation as a tyrant was eclipsed only by his striking countenance. The day he arrived in Kanate, the skies turned a sullen grey, as if the heavens themselves were wary of his presence. His entourage was a cavalcade of iron-clad knights, their armor gleaming with an ominous sheen. The clatter of their approach echoed through the valley, a harbinger of the unsettling news they brought.

King Dinodas, with a furrowed brow, awaited their arrival at the gates of his castle, a stronghold of peace in a world brimming with unrest. Beside him stood Princess Sionia, her eyes alight with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Ettrian's figure emerged from the procession, tall and imposing, his cloak billowing behind him like the dark wings of a raven. As he dismounted his steed, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. Ettrian stood tall and commanding, his presence like a beacon that drew all eyes to him. His features were as if chiseled by the gods themselves—sharp jawline, deep-set eyes that shimmered like the twilight sky, and hair that cascaded in waves of obsidian silk. His eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the assembly before settling on the king and his daughter. Without preamble or pleasantries, he addressed King Dinodas in a voice that brooked no argument.

"King Dinodas of Kanate," Ettrian began, his tone devoid of warmth, "I have come to claim the hand of your daughter, Princess Sionia, in marriage. My kingdom of Brulavon is a land of strength and prosperity, and it shall extend its protection to Kanate under this union."

The court gasped, whispers fluttering like leaves in a storm. Such a proposal, delivered without courtship or consent, was unheard of. It was a demand, stark and bold, and it hung in the air like a challenge. Whispers spread like wildfire, their words laced with disbelief. "How could such a paragon of beauty, a man who looks as though he has stepped out of legend, desire our Princess Sionia?" they murmured among themselves. "It is as if a celestial being has descended to claim the hand of a mortal maiden."