The Trapped Prince

Trigger warning: death,abduction,gore.

Once upon a time, there lived a prince trapped in the highest tower, in the heart of the darkest forest, in the Mulsh kingdom.

Well, he wasn't trapped anymore,the prince reflected as he saw what remained of the witch at the bottom of the tower. She had been dead for weeks now. Every day, crows picked at her body bit by bit, and she was fading away slowly. That morning , three weeks ago, the witch had had the sudden urge to paint the whole tower. She wanted to start from the top and work her way down. The prince had stopped questioning the witch’s antics years ago. She was trying to paint his windowsill when she slipped on her unnecessarily long witch robes, which she wore even during the hottest summer days. She went tumbling out the window and fell. It had all happened very fast. He had tried to save her, and all he had to show for his efforts was the black scrap of cloth from the witch’s robe.

The prince set his elbow on the half-painted windowsill, rested his head on his hand, and sighed. The sigh was so beautiful that flowers started blooming in the pot by the window. He had that effect on nature. Gardening was one of his hobbies. He acquired a lot of hobbies over the years. The witch had told him to entertain and keep himself busy so that the isolation and confinement would not make him lose his mind. That was how she endured her own loneliness. “And now I have found myself a new hobby:To raise a little prince,” the witch had said the day she had kidnapped him from the palace. After that, she had cackled her perfected witch cackle, locked his room at the top of the tower and gone down to...actually, he never knew where she went. He had never stepped outside his room all this time.

The prince turned his head to the sky. It was a wonderful day with a light cool breeze. A family of geese were flying overhead. He could step out of his room now. He was free. He knew he should go back to his palace,his family and to his people. But he was not sure he really wanted to leave. He knew he should want to leave. But he didn't even remember his family’s faces or his room back in the palace. He didn't even know if he had friends. This tower had been his home for fifteen years, and it was all he knew. The witch was his only family. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. He wiped it away fiercely, forcing himself not to cry for his only companion, who happened to be his dead kidnapper, and for his lost life he would never know.

He told himself it wasn't so bad. He ate good food, could read anytime he wanted, and didn't have to bother with politics or jealous uncles trying to kill him for the throne. He was content. Besides, he couldn't possibly carry all his books. He didn't know the magic for that. That was a flimsy excuse, and he knew it. If he appeared at the palace now, everyone would be so happy with the miraculous return of the prince that they would bring his books to him if he asked.

The witch sometimes taught him magic. But not enough for the fear that he could use it to escape or use it against her. He knew how to make food out of dust, make his books read themselves aloud, make stars appear on his ceiling, and flowers bloom with his breath and lovely voice[he couldn't control that aspect of magic very well.]. She also taught him history, wildlife, botany, herbology and other witchy stuff. And when she got bored with teaching him, he taught himself from the books she had given him. She had also told him there were lots of monsters in the forest just lying in wait for an unwise and unwary human to walk right into their claws so that they could gobble them up. No way, he told himself, better to stay right here. He had everything he needed. His family probably forgot about him. Nobody came to rescue him anyway. Yes, there was a spell guarding the tower, which made it impossible to find it. But if somebody cared about him, they would have tried harder. He should have tried harder to break the spell. Never mind that. He was here now,and he was going to stay here.

The dead witch was only bones now. It was her magic that hid the tower from animals and humans alike. Now that she was gone, the prince saw varied wildlife outside every day. Soon, even her bones would be taken for eating. As if it had heard his thought, a bear came lumbering through the trees and started gnawing on the bones. Its fur was brown and looked softer than dust. The prince longed to touch it. It looked just like the bear from his favourite storybook as a kid.

“Here, kitty kitty “, sang the prince in his angelic voice. A tiny rose popped up on the wall next to him. The bear looked up at him with its beady black eyes just as he heard a sharp zing. An arrow hit the bear’s backside, followed by another one faster than lightning. The bear fell like a log on the bones he was chewing. A momentary shock stunned the prince in his place. There was rustling from the trees a few feet from his window. He saw a shadow moving not unlike the wind, from one branch to another. The figure turned its head right at him. The prince ducked instinctively, his breath coming faster. His heart was drumming in his chest, and he imagined a willowy monster creeping up the brown brick wall of the tower and looking down on him through the window. He shut his eyes tightly. A few minutes went by, and nothing happened save for a crow cawing keenly.

Then, the prince heard soft footsteps walking towards his tower.

“I saw you. It would be in your best interest to stop hiding. Show your face,” said a voice. A human. He hadn't seen or heard a human, other than the witch, for so long that he had essentially forgotten their existence. He never wanted to look at someone as much as he wanted to look at this bear killer, and he had never been as terrified as he was now.

First came his shaking, elegant fingers latching onto the window. Then his downy black hair fluttering in the breeze. The most dazzling green eyes popped into view and caught the sunlight, making them sparkle.

“Who are you?” The prince asked in a shaky, high-pitched voice. He cleared his throat. He couldn't make out the hunter’s features. To him, from all the way up the tower’s topmost chamber, the archer looked like a blob. A very dangerous blob with arrows.

A green hood covered half of the hunter’s face. The other half was wreathed in shadow.

“Huh? What? Can't hear you,” she shouted, pushing the hood back. The hunter pulled a knife with a gleaming point and walked almost lazily towards the bear. She started skinning the bear expertly, like she did this everyday after tea time. She probably did.

“Who are you?” He tried a bit louder.

“What was that? Look, I don't have time for chit-chat. I have to skin this bear and be on time before the market closes”. The hunter was shouting. The prince begrudingly respected her lung power.

The prince’s whole face came into view in the window. He took a huge breath to shout, “I asked who you were and stop that! You are making a right mess on my lawn”, just as blood splattered onto the tower.

“Oh, I’m Ferine, and I’m sorry about the blood. Will clean it before I leave, “ the hunter said conversationally, without looking up, still skinning the bear. “Didn't know you could have a lawn in a fore-”

She stopped, her hands stilled in their skilful work. She had looked up and was stunned by the radiance of the Prince’s face. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ferine looked away and rubbed her eyes against her shoulders. The prince’s brilliant face had blinded her. It seemed to her it was brighter than the sun. She blinked a couple of times and looked up again. The earlier shine must have been a trick of the light; there was no way he could glow, she mused. He looked like a blob now. She thought if she got close enough, it could be a very handsome blob indeed.

The prince was silent. He did not know what else to say, and the whole situation was stressing him out. So, he closed his window, went to his dust bag to make himself a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe if he ignored Ferine, she would leave faster. He didn't even care about the blood splatter and the blood on the grass. He just wished that she would be gone soon. A small part of him also wondered about her bow and arrow. She had just come from the forest. She could get him out. But shooting a bear doesn't mean she could defeat monsters. The prince shook his head. Nope. Staying right here. He went back to his book and hot chocolate.

Ferine returned her concentration to the bear, which didn't last long. Her mind kept going back to the mysterious boy in the tower with the illusory glowing face. She also wanted to ask him about the human bones. Within a few minutes, she was done with the bear, butchering it ,and bagging the meat and fur in neat packages. She wiped the sweat from her brow and put her hands on her hips. The sun was blazing down in the midmorning sky. She had to go now if she wanted to reach the market before the shops closed. But her curiosity reached its peak, and she picked up a stone.

Everything seemed quite outside, and the prince let out a breath of relief. A couple of peonies came into being next to the fireplace. They caught fire and burned and were no more. Just as he went to pick up a new book to read from his bookshelf, there came a tap at the window. His hands stopped in their action of picking up the book.

Another tap at the window.

The prince picked up the broom he used to collect the dust and made his slow way over to the window. He didn't want to open the windows, but if he didn't, he feared she might just break down his doors and enter. He didn't know if he could bat away the arrows with his broom. But it was better than his hands. He opened the window, and a stone found his head, and everything went black.

The prince dreamed he was sleeping in a huge garden with birds chirping everywhere. There were people sitting next to him, his attenders, he realised. One had a basket full of fruits that was feeding him grapes. The other was fanning him with the most colourfully embroidered fan. The third person was playing the flute, harmonising with the music of the birds.

All was right. He was right where he should be, living the life of a prince. Like the ones he read about in his books. A crow alighted on the flute and spat on his face.

“Wake up”, it cawed. He moved his face away from the crow and shooed it. It spat on him again.

The prince opened his eyes to a blurry room and a blurry person sprinkling water onto his face.

He sat up immediately and shoved her. He was breathing hard. He scrambled to get a hold of his broom and held it like a sword. He felt pathetic. And dizzy.

“Aaaaah”, she exclaimed and massaged her eyes. The prince had accidentally poked them. Well, serves her right for intruding on his home and throwing stones at him.

Stones. He suddenly forgot about his fear of the hunter and ran to his gilded mirror.

Just as he dreaded, there was a red welt on his forehead.

“You not only forced your way into my home, but you've also marked my face with a bruise”, the prince said petulantly, whirling on her in fury. The water droplets from his face fell like gems onto the floor.

He still easily had the most beautiful face, even with the bruised forehead, thought the hunter. She came to herself and looked around the room.

“Cozy space you've got here”, she said, going over to the bookshelf. “Wait, is that bag filled with dust. What the-

“Don't touch that”. The prince snatched his dust bag away from Ferine.

She turned towards the prince, her face contrite. “I am sorry I hit your face. I was only trying to get you to open the window so I could talk to you”

“How did you get in?”

‘I climbed the tower. And I only entered withou-”

‘You climbed the whole tower?” The prince asked incredulously.

“Yes,it was faster than climbing the stairs, even if I could break down doors made of metal, and I only entered without your permission because you were unconscious, and you couldn't have given me your permission to enter even if you wanted to. I was so scared I had badly hurt you-

“You did”, the prince declared.

“- that I climbed as fast as I could”, Ferine finished. She lifted her head in defiance. She believed she had justified all her points.

When the prince just stood with his lips pursed and his broom aloft, ferine sighed and dropped her shoulders.

“What can I do to make you forgive me?” she asked.

Nobody had ever asked forgiveness from him before. The witch had certainly not apologised for kidnapping him.

The prince’s eyes softened a bit,and he let go of his broom. Ferine had short brown hair, and she looked like she could take on the most frightening monsters. Her hands were calloused.

“I use the dust bag to make food.” The prince said in a sort of peace offering.

“You eat dust? You poor thing”, the hunter said and scrunched up her face in confusion.

A small smile came unbidden to the prince’s face. That smile should be framed and hung in a museum, thought Ferine.

“No, I use it to make food. Here, let me show you” The prince made his way over to the table and told her all about his dust bag and how the quality of dust determined the quality of the food he was eating. On the way, he surreptitiously gathered his underclothes that were on the bedpost and shoved them under the bed while Ferine was distracted by the dust bag.

Once he started telling about the dust bag, he couldn't stop and told her about other magics he knew and delighted her by demonstrating them. She was like a child enraptured at a puppet show, only this was better than any puppet show she had ever seen. For his final spell, he sang sweeter than a nightingale, and flowers erupted all around the room.

Ferine clapped and laughed merrily. A proud smile stretched the prince’s face.

He also told her everything about himself. It was good to finally share what he liked, how he spent his time ,and his fears with someone else. In turn, he asked Ferine about the world outside.

She looked down and was sad.

“What is it?” The prince asked worriedly.

She told him that the Monarchy was no more. There was something called the Democracy. It was not the Mulsh kingdom anymore, but just Mulsh now. His family, the royal family,had moved to a farmhouse and lived a simple but content life as farmers.

“On the positive side,you can leave the tower and brave the forest, as the monsters are almost extinct ,and the endangered ones rarely venture out, as they are scared of humans. But it’s wreaking havoc on the biome, and there’s a black market for exotic goods made from the rare monsters’ body parts. So not very positive really,” Ferine ended her speech gloomily. But she brightened a bit and explained that there would be a Nature and Creature Rescue Guild soon.

The prince was silent the whole time, and now his straight brows were knit in thought. It dawned on him that all the books the witch had given him were outdated, and he needed to go out and see the new world for himself, as he couldn't comprehend half the things Ferine was saying. A sudden need welled up in him to explore and learn more than his books could offer him, and maybe, just maybe, someday write his own book filled with his adventures. The monsters didn't seem daunting to him if he had someone like Ferine by his side. Maybe she could teach him how to be as strong as her.

His brain whirred with future plans. First, he needed to pack all his stuff in his five suitcases that he kept on hand for when he would have gotten an opportunity to escape the witch.

“You would make a good statue model “, said Ferine into the silence. She went on about how she was in art school, and how hunting was her part-time job, and oh shit! the bear-”

The sky had turned dark with the coming of the evening. There were fireflies dancing outside the window. The prince came out of his brooding and locked eyes with Ferine, with glints in them like fire. “Let's get out of here”, the prince said dramatically.

“Sure, but what's your name?” asked Ferine.

“My name is Prince,” said the prince.