Once Upon a Faerie Tale

Chapter Six

Eight:

The king had ordered guards to stand outside her house, to ensure she would not leave while she gathered up the few things she wanted to take with her as well as the necessary supplies she would need to make her wedding dress. Analee kept her head up and her shoulders back while the personal escort watched her every move as she packed her bag. She knew it would take a bit of finesse, but she decided it would be possible to sneak a large dagger with her into the castle. The nine inch blade was folded steel and it had been the weapon she had practiced with Josanu in case of danger.

While Josanu never planned for her to experience such direct danger, but it just proved that the unpredictability of this land and life made it hard to live free and safe. Perhaps though, she considered, we’ll live happily without danger. But even though she told herself this, she knew there would never be a happy danger free time with Josanu, even if her plan worked, she knew there would be consequences that would prevent what she had always wanted.

“Hurry.” The soldier said, his arms at his side, spine straight, his hat perched perfectly on his head, the purple plume standing straight up, almost touching her low ceiling. Analee glared at the man and slipped the dagger into a shift before placing the garment in her bag. Closing the clasp on the bag and picking up the handles sent the signal to the soldier she was done, and the man grabbed her arm and pulled her through the house and out to the carriage waiting for them.

***

“Is this going to be like the Princess Bride when Buttercup decides she’s going to kill herself because she can’t stand to be married to the king and because the love of her life is dead, or in this case, banished?” Darby asked, thinking of the dagger.

“Why would you say that?” Verona asked her granddaughter, placing her hand on the bed and touching the ruffled dress.

Darby shrugged, “It just seems…heroic. Kind of a symbol for undying love. It’s what Romeo and Juliet did, and people say that’s romantic.”

“But you don’t like Romeo and Juliet.” The older woman stated.

A frown arrived deep in Darby’s face, “Then she’s planning to kill the king?” She asked.

“How would she get the dagger close enough to the king?” Verona asked.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, “I hate it when you do that.” She said. Verona only smiled.

***

The weeks had passed in steadily growing anticipation and fear. And Analee had been diligent in designing and producing the dress she would wear to her death.

She had created the dress with a hidden pocket on the right side that would easily conceal her dagger until the right moment. Her only concern was that she would be stopped before bringing her dagger to it’s final resting place-embedded in King Youpeng’s heart. And when he was dead on the ground, she could be free.

But it was now the day of the wedding and her plan seemed much more daunting than it had before. You know what you’re going to do, Analee told herself, You’ve been preparing for this your whole life, and you can’t back out now. Of course, she always had the option of backing out, but not without subjecting herself to years of torture and unhappiness. This truly was her only option, and it wasn’t just for her, but for her country.

Six guards were her escort. They marched around her, their tall hats and purple plumes bouncing proudly as they escorted her to the hill that overlooked the entirety of the small kingdom. It was a beautiful spot and often frequented by many of the people, but today, it was mandated that all be present to witness the king’s marriage to the beautiful Analee. But for the bride, it provided the perfect opportunity to bring down the evil king and end his tyrannical rule.

As she climbed the hill, Analee felt the wind picking up her dress and blowing it around her, heard it’s whispers, almost as if it were giving her strength. With renewed vigor for the task ahead, she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head high. I am strong. She told herself and faced the vile king. “Analee,” He said, smiling like a fox, “You make a beautiful bride.” He directed her toward the priest, dressed in his robes, his collar visible.

“Before we begin,” the priest said, “Do you both willingly desire to enter into this union?” He asked, looking directly at Analee.

She knew she could not say no, with how many people had gathered and the soldiers from the castle all but emptied, if she wanted to complete her task, she had but to nod her head. The soldiers loosened their stance, although still wary of the crowd. But the people were much too frightened to try anything against the king or his men. I may be numbered among the fallen but I must do my part to bring justice. This gave her strenght and she nodded, and so the ceremony continued.

The king agreed to love her, protect, and care for her, smiling his fox smile all the way. But when the priest turned to her Analee slipped her hand into the pocket she had created for just this moment, wishing to make it symbolic, and gripped the handle of her dagger. When the priest asked her if she would love, cherish, and care for the horrible king, she smiled and declared as loudly as she could, “No!” Pulling the dagger from her dress and thrusting the knife into the king’s chest, clean through his heart killing him and his evil rule instantly. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell with a thump to the ground.

But the victory did not last long. After the look of shock dissolved from his face, the soldier called Marlin, who had retrieved her from her house many weeks ago drew his sword from his scabbard and ran her through with it, yanking it from her belly and calling out in victory. But word had traveled that the king had fallen, and shouts of victory had gone through the crowd.

Analee, however, was grasping her stomach, feeling the blood pouring through her fingers, and the increasing difficulty to draw a breath. She had known she would die if she were to succeed, but she had not imagined it to be so horrible. She could feel the expression of pain on her face as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd, the face she loved with all her heart.

“Josanu,” She whispered and fell to the ground, unable to sustain her body weight.

“Analee!” He cried out, the evidence of pain in his voice. He pushed through the crowd, desperate to reach his love. “Analee!” He cried again as a wizend old woman who had seen many kings rise and fall bent beside the young girl who had freed the country was realized to be dying by the crowd.

“No!” Josanu cried when he saw the blood as red as her hair, Analee’s pale face was drawn, but she looked at him one last time and closed her eyes from exhaustion. But the old woman beside her bent down and whispered something into the dying girl’s ear and a flash of white exploded across the sky, temporarily blinding everyone who saw it.

***

“She died?!” Darby cried. It seemed that everyone died in Grandma’s stories, especially by the hand of King Youpeng. “But she’s healed right? That’s what the old woman did with the white light right?"