His mother’s eyes were worn around the edges, fine like an old letter that had been folded one too many times. The boy thought his mother was too young to look so tired. But after how his father had acted tonight, the boy understood, even at the young age of seven, that tears age you more than time.
“I’m sorry about Dad,” he said as he lay back into his bed and pulled his frayed blanket to his chin.
“Let’s not worry about it, my brave boy.” His mother gave him a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she reached for the book on his nightstand.
The boy’s father had been drinking again tonight, but this was the first time his father had ever raised his voice. The first time he’d watched the man he’d once looked up to punch the wall instead of his mother. The argument had been about money… or maybe one of his brothers, the boy wasn’t sure, but he’d stepped in front of his mother the second it looked like the wall hadn’t been enough to tame his father’s rage.
“Should I read you this story?” she asked the boy, and he wiped his tears. He nodded as he nuzzled down into his pillow. His eyes closed as his mother’s fingers ran through his messy dark hair.
He should’ve let his mother tend to his little brothers first, but after everything he’d gone through this evening, the boy allowed himself this one selfish need. It wasn’t long before the troubles in his chest lifted as she began to read from one of his favorite books, The Painted Prince.
His eyes grew heavy as the tale whispered from her lips, “There was once known a kingdom that never knew the sun. It was bathed in glittered starlight under its perpetual moon. And one evening, when the sky was purple and the light was silver, the queen gave birth to a dark-haired princess. The realm rejoiced in the birth, but the king did not. The king had prayed to the Goddess of Midnight for a prince. A boy who would grow to be the man who would rule the largest of all the stars, the sun itself. For it had been known, prophesied for thousands of years, ‘a prince would rule and reign in light once he found himself a queen of night. Together they would be blessed by the Goddesses of Summer, Spring, Winter and Fall, and the earth would flourish once and for all.’
When the king had been born, his father had hoped it would have been him to rule the almighty warmth of the sun, but as he grew to a man, the realm remained basked in the cool rays of the moon. So, when he was favored with his own heir, he had gone to temple every night at the resetting of time and prayed that his kingdom could be blessed as once foretold. But, as his wife’s cheeks stained with tears of joy, his heart hardened and turned black. The king locked his daughter away and told the world she had been stillborn. The truth, as ordered by the king himself, was a death sentence. The queen and the nursemaid feared for the life of the princess, so they obeyed and kept their king’s secret.
His daughter stayed hidden inside the castle, in the lowest of the dungeons where she couldn’t see the blessed light of her goddess. Over the years, she grew more beautiful and his wife’s womb… more barren. The king had become weary, and his soul more angry. His hopes for a male heir flickered and burned out just as the stars he governed had done when they had reached their end. And once his daughter reached womanhood, he cursed the Goddess of Midnight, cursed his lands and his realm that they were to never know the love of hope. It was in that moment, the goddess granted him his curse by stopping his wife’s heart, leaving his kingdom without a queen.
Word spread across the land that the queen had passed onto the next plane. That her death belonged to the king’s whispered curse and the people revolted. They stormed the castle, led by a young, painted rebel from the south. He was covered in the marks of his people. The ink needled below his skin a magical armor gifted to him by his father once he’d reached his manhood. The glittered throne of stars fell swiftly beneath the rage and outcry. The rebel Prince of Solistar was young but merciful, and he offered the fallen king a chance to repent. But the King of the Moon dropped his head, spat on the rebel prince’s shoes, and said, “No one knows my secret. My real death lies inside the belly of the castle. If you are so merciful, behead me now and be done with it.”
The prince lifted his sword and said, “I am but one son of many queens born before me, and by the honor of my mother’s blade, Helios, I give you the death you desire.”
The crowd did not rejoice in the blood that pooled and trickled off the dais, instead, they too hung their heads with the rebel prince and prayed to the Goddess of Mercy to grant them the hope the king had taken with him in death.
The prince worried on the king’s last words and something pulled at his heart. He remembered a song his mother had once sung to him as a child. A song about a Queen of Night. His feet pushed him forward as if they had a mind of their own. He stumbled down the steps of the dais, moving on pure instinct to the dungeons, his heart beating faster with every step. He plunged into the darkness with a torch that barely granted a clear path to what… he wasn’t sure. But his soul screamed as his heart hammered, and, when the orange lick of flame revealed her face, everything he’d ever known clicked into place. The world shook on its axis. The prince was too deep inside of the castle to hear the people gasp as the moon began to set in a pink and violet sky.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The young woman’s fingers were pale as she grasped the cell bars. Her eyes matched his in darkness, and he knew that once kissed with sunlight they would burst with gold and amber. “I am the Princess of Stars. Hidden behind the eclipse of my king.”
“Your father is dead.” The prince’s heart sank as her eyes filled with tears.
“Then I am free.”
His eyes met hers and he nodded, his heart less burdened knowing she cried for joy, not sadness.
He touched her hand, the moonlight in her cheeks gave way to the color of dawn, and he knew. “Queen of Night,” he whispered as he broke the lock of the cell door with one swipe of his mother’s sword.
The princess didn’t even flinch. She stood in the large cage staring at the man, at her freedom, and her lips began to tremble. Her deep blue dress was made of velvet and it covered her arms down to her delicate wrists. But the slope of her fine neck was bare, and with her snow-colored skin, dark eyes and pink lips, she was more than beautiful standing under the light of the torch. The Prince had no doubt she was who the old mages had advised his family for centuries to find. She would be the one to join the realms and ‘together they would be blessed by the Goddesses of Summer, Spring, Winter and Fall, and the earth would flourish once and for all.’
She took a tentative step toward her savior and his scent of earth and honey filled her veins with an unknown warmth.
“Tell me your name,” she breathed.
And he answered, “I am your king.”
Her heart burst with a knowledge bestowed upon her by the Goddess of Love and, when he leaned down and their lips met, the marks inked into her king’s flesh lit in brilliant colors. Illuminated by the ethereal light of histories converging, the prince and the princess became king and queen, and the realms above them, far beyond the stone of the castle, beyond the lands of the Moon and Solistar, sang because, once again, the earth moved and time had been reborn.”
The boy’s eyes were heavy as his mother’s words filled his head with a future he’d only ever see in dreams.