This story is dedicated to my best friend, Kaitlyn, a.k.a. frenchhornfreak, because she's awesome, and because it's finally one she can get. Love you!

petits mots

They arrive in the middle of the night, the short man clutching a tiny, brown-haired girl, and the young girl clutching a book. Behind them is a tired horse pulling a wagon that seems to be piled with junk, and there is no mother in sight.

The little girl sits on the bed the innkeeper has lent them and opens the book, tracing the lines she knows by heart.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a princess . . .

x . o . x . o . x

By the next year they have their own farm, and things have mostly settled down. People in town still whisper about the strange inventor whose wife died, and the schoolchildren are still wary of the new girl from the city, but people are nice, and she is happy.

Still, there are days when she just doesn't know what to do. On those days she climbs to the top of a nearby hill and opens her mother's book.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a princess . . .

x . o . x . o . x

A few years later she begins to realize that some of the boys are giving her funny looks. Kids she talked to just fine last week now start sputtering and flushing a most peculiar shade of red. When she asks her father about it, he hems and haws and says that he'll tell her when she's older.

She studies herself in the mirror, knowing that if she had a mother they could talk about these things. Eventually she decides that the whole thing is a waste of time, and the next day at lunch she sits by herself and reads her mother's book.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a princess . . .

x . o . x . o . x

Many years after she first came to the village, when she has given up completely on the once-charming idea of living here in this village forever, and wants to live in a far-off land where there can be adventure, he proposes.

For a second she is frozen, watching all her dreams fade away, replaced by a hearth and a kitchen and waking next to him for the rest of her life.

She is able to refuse him, though, and wiping the mud off her mother's book tells her stronger than ever that she must do something.

That night more happens than in all her eighteen years, and as she sobs in her new room in the castle, she remembers those comforting words.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a princess . . .

x . o . x . o . x

One day, several weeks after her arrival at the castle, he shows her the library. She walks along the shelves, running her fingers across the smooth titles, and marvels at how much this place already feels like home. The servants are nice to her, but more than that, they are friends. She has not had real friends before, having first been the weird new girl, then the weird inventor's daughter, and then the weird book girl, and the experience is amazing.

Suddenly she gasps, her hand brushing familiar letters. She pulls the book off the shelf. A little newer, perhaps, and with a different smell – her mother smelled of honey and flour, and all his books smell of dust – but her eyes cloud with tears as she reads again the familiar words.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a princess . . .

x . o . x . o . x

It's been six months now since they were married. The castle has been restored to its former glory, and the townspeople have lost most of their fear of the place. It will probably take several generations for things to return to normal between them, but she has hope.

Sometimes, as she helps with the meetings and restorations and everything else that must be done when a prince returns from a three-year disappearance, she remembers before. She remembers the innocent hope in his eyes when he took her to the library, and the exhilaration of the snowball fight. She wonders why, exactly, all that was replaced with the weariness she sees now, the worry sometimes at an unexpected visitor.

But she knows that, like all else, this will pass, and they will be content. She knows about happy endings.

Now she sits at the desk and puts her hand on her stomach, feeling the joy of a new life. She dips her pen in the ink and begins to write, leaving a record for her own child to hold on to.

Once, not so long ago, in a small village, there lived a young woman who dreamed of adventure.

fin