Well, here goes. This is a COMPLETELY original piece of work. I own every single person, setting, critter, etc. and they are all purely figments of my imagination...and let this be known: if I find out that this has been reproduced in any way, shape or form, I will personally hunt you down and rip your spinal cord out your ass. Just as a head up. :lol:

This will be PG-13 until further notice, and, I probably won't be able to update all that often: I am a very busy person.

Any and all feedback is most welcome!!! :heartbeat:

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I suppose I should introduce myself, considering how this story revolves mainly around me. Humph. That sounded selfish. Well, I suppose I can afford it; I am a princess after all.

My name is Deirdre. My parents are King Cairbre and Queen Fennella. I will admit, my parents were beautiful. Young, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw, my father was the epitome of chivalrous brawn. He had curly brown hair reaching to his shoulders and a dark beard that was more often than not split with a wide grin. Eyes as blue as the summer sky and a slightly crooked nose gave him a rakish air.

By contrast, my mother was delicate and fair. Waves after waves of shining golden locks cascaded down her slender back. Wide set green eyes that often sparkled with mirth, a sweet red mouth, skin as white as winter snow…she was the apple of my father’s eye. A position I often coveted as a child.

My parents only had eyes for each other. They lived in their own little world, oblivious to anyone else that might intrude upon their solitude.

Including me.

I had a lonely childhood. When I tried to play with the cook’s daughter, her mother scolded her and beat her with her spoon, saying that it was unacceptable for a silly little girl like her to try and play with her princess. I was avoided by the stable hands, shunned by the maids; the only company I had was my bitter old governess.

Quickly I learned from her how to sew proper, nigh invisible, stitches, dance with a grace not natural to my gawky frame, write with a steady hand, sing with a true voice, play the lute with deft fingers, recognize any and all blazons, speak with a soft voice contrary to my natural brazen tones, curtsy without tripping over my skirts, address courtiers according to their ranks, ride a horse like a lady, eat with the proper tiny cutlery.

And yet every time I looked in the mirror (there were thousands all around the castle; my mother loved to examine her reflection from every angle), all I saw was a young girl, rather short for her age, with milky blue-green eyes, mousy brown hair, pudgy arms, and a sickly pale complexion. I hated myself. Every time I was fitted for a new dress, the seamstress with cluck to herself with glee, muttering about how she had to keep making my gowns wider in the waist.

Soon the time came for me to be betrothed. There was a disappointing lack of suitors, yet, I was secretly pleased. I was not looking forward to the day when I would be forced to marry some great lecherous oaf twice my age, with a score of whiny babies that needed taking care of because his first wife died trying to deliver his fat children. Thank you, but I would be able to mange just fine without that.

Weeks went by with nary a prospective husband. I was thrilled. Maybe I would be allowed to live out life as an old maid.

One day, my governess came into my room, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. Someone had come to beg for my hand. She called in the maids, and I got dressed in a sea of incomprehension. Why would someone actually want to marry me? I studied my reflection in the mirror while the cook’s daughter buttoned up the back of my gown. I still had the same mousy hair, the same blue-green eyes that I found so unattractive (yet if I looked closely, I could see some trace of my mother’s fae-like shape to them), a jaw that was a little too coarse (courtesy of my father), the same unhealthy luminescence to my skin. My body was no better to look at. I had grown out of my earlier gawkiness: I was no longer all angles, instead, I was all curves. And not it the good places. My belly poked out over my girdle, my hips were dumpy, my arms looked like sausages in their sleeves. I tried to question my governess about the appearance of my husband-to-be, but she refused to say anything, all she would do would be to clear her throat obnoxiously and blow heartily into her kerchief.

I numbly walked down the stairs, and into the throne room. The first thing I saw was my parents sitting upon their thrones. Over the years, my father’s hair had gotten a few streaks of gray, and my mother had acquired little laugh lines around her eyes. Otherwise, they were completely unchanged. They still held hands between their thrones, and still constantly shot each other loving glances.

My father looked up when I entered, and I could see in his eyes that he was disappointed in me. I was supposed to look like a smaller version of my mother. I think it was then that I really began to hate him. My mother glanced at me, grimaced a little, then turned back to the cat that was curled up in her lap. I hated her too. I then turned my gaze to my suitor.

It was as I feared. Bow-legged, with an impressive gut, his stature belied the youthful twinkle in his eye. I did not care to linger to long on what that was about, so I moved on in my inspection. A ruddy complexion (the kind got from too much drinking, I thought sourly), and a shiny balding pate did nothing to improve his looks. He peered at me with little piggy eyes surrounded by pouches of fat, and I could tell that I did not measure up to his expectations. For once in my life, I didn’t care.

To be honest, I can’t recall much of what was said. I was too busy peering at the single hair that grew from the wart on the end of his nose like a spear stuck in the carcass of a boar. When he smiled, he bared rotting stumps of yellow teeth. I shuddered to think of that mouth kissing me.

Finally the night was over. Or, at least, the part that needed me. I was allowed to flee to my chambers, where I flung myself down onto my bed. I must have sobbed myself to sleep, for when I woke up, the fire was stoked, the curtains drawn, and a blanket flung over my prostrate body. I sat up and examined my situation: stay here and be used as a breeding sow by some ham-fisted nobleman, or, leave the castle and try to make my way in the world.

Completely disregarding my total lack of skills that would allow me to survive outside the castle, I chose the second option. After all, it was the only logical choice. Or so it seemed to my tired head. I flung the blankets aside and walked over to the window. Flinging open the glass doors, I walked onto the balcony. It was the beginning of spring, and I could feel the warm night air caressing my bared skin. I leaned on the balcony and surveyed the grounds below me. To the left were the stables, to the right, the kitchens. Of course I got the side of the castle overlooking the menial labor facilities. My parent’s room looked over the gardens and the road leading up to the front gate. If I peered out across the fields behind the castle wall, I could just make out the forest in the mist. My father, in a rare moment of lucidity, had ordered me never to enter there. To be honest, I had no desire to. I had much preferred to go to the kitchens. Food was the only comfort I really had. The cook pitied me, watching me grow up next to her beautiful daughter: her red hair pulled out of her face in a thick braid down her back, her trim figure wrapped tightly in her gowns; and me: fat as a prize sow.

I went over to my closet and pulled out my plainest gown. Pulling it over my head, I was a little concerned. It was a tight fit, but it would have to do. I braided my hair over my shoulder (I had watched the cook’s daughter do it countless times), and was surprised at the weight of it. Did I take after my mother more than I thought? Looking at myself in the mirror, I decided that I didn’t. I next selected a hooded cloak of dark wool with a fur lining in the hood. It would be unbearably warm, but it wouldn’t do to have someone recognize me and try to return me to my parents, expecting some reward. As I left the room, I reached out and picked up a book my governess was trying to make me read. A Complete Guide to Woodland Herbs. Never seeing the necessity of learning this drivel, I refused to study it at all. Suddenly I wondered if she knew this day would come, and if she tried to prepare me as much as possible, in her own silent way. I wished I could leave a note, or something that would at least let her know that I was alright, but I didn’t dare to risk discovery. With a last sad look around my chambers, I slipped out the door. I tiptoed my way down to the kitchens, my heart beating an uneven tattoo that I was sure reverberated off the walls; I was surprised that no one heard it and came running down to investigate.

Finding the kitchens mercifully deserted, I quickly ran around, stuffing breads, meats, and jams alike into a basket that I had filched off the walls. Something white caught my eye as I was walking out the door: the cook’s daughter’s head kerchiefs. It was unseemly for any unmarried lady to walk around with her head uncovered (unless she was the princess, of course). I was about to pass them by when I realized that for all intents and purposes, I was no longer the Princess Deirdre, and I reached out and snatched them up. Tucking one over my pilfered food, I ran out the door, the other one clutched in my hands.

I pulled the hood of my cloak up over my head and face and swiftly crossed the courtyard on slipper-shod feet. Carefully unlatching the gate, I slipped out behind the stables. To my naïve sensibilities, no one saw me depart. High up in a tower, a pale face peered out from between heavy velvet curtains. With a sigh, my governess muttered a prayer and twitched her drapes shut.

Wow. I was just blown away by all of that. This is a very very very good piece of writing, hon. I just finished a book about Camelot and when squeaked with Joy at this line.

Poor Deidre having a really ugly male suitor! and I can definately relate to her with the 'kitchen was my saviour as a child' mantra. I'm glad that she's escaping though! Oh, so many great stories start like this and I have no doubt yours will be great too as the chapters progress!

I can't wait for more honey, count me as an avid fan :)

:heartbeat: Pat

P.S Your avatar rocks. It made me laugh for half an hour lol.

I LOVE this! I enjoy reading stories set in this time period. And, Deidre does have a good deal of pluck and spirit to sneak out and leave the life of a princess behind. Yet, who can blame her when you think of what her future would hold?

Very good line there!

The details and descriptions are great, and the style fits with the story type perfectly. I am really looking forward to reading more.

And, welcome to the board!

~Amber

awww...thanks girls! I'm glad you both like it, and I promise to try to write (and post) more soon! :hug:

That was absolutly stunning.
I love how you paint her charcater so swift and yet with immense detail.
She is very human and I must say I quite like that.

This is a very very promising beginning.
And I certainly hope to read more!!


Also a big welcome on the forum.
I hope you will enjoy your stay.
If you have questions...don't hesitate to ask them.


- Dana -

:woot: <---That's a look of pure "WOW". This is an amazing start, I seriously felt like I was reading a published book. Your writing is incredible, the description, the richness, how you've said so much about the characters already with so little words...WOW. I was immediately sucked into the story, it's got such greatness in it already, I mean, a lonely child, doomed to marry some sleazeball, so she runs away. How delightfully Jasmine-esque of her. ^_^ I love this and eagerly look forward to more! And welcome to the board!

Major props on your avatar too, that's hilarious. :lmao:

:hug: Celandine, the non-evil hobbit :shine:

I was free! Free! The night air never felt so sweet. I was giddy with my daring plan. I took a few steps, then twirled around, my skirts fanning out about my legs. This was the farthest from the castle I had been in my entire life. It was a heady feeling, almost like that time I broke into the mulled wine and got entirely too drunk. Not an experience I would like to repeat, I assure you. The morning after was not so pleasant.

I began to run, suddenly afraid that someone would see me. I ran as fast as I could, down the lane, my cloak flapping awkwardly in the night breeze. Finally, I reached the forest. I sank down under a tall tree (I didn’t know what kind it was), and pulled off my cloak. It was too warm with the heavy wool, the finely knit linen of my gown, and the unaccustomed exercise. I sat there, panting, for a while, before I began to calm down. Running like that was probably not such a good idea. If I had walked silently, moving from shadow to shadow, people might have just thought I was a figment of their imagination, or maybe a young peasant girl running off to find her lover. Oh well, I thought. Nothing would be gained from worrying about the past.

I realized I was beginning to get hungry. Ignoring the fact that it was probably around two in the morning, I took out a loaf of bread and tore into it hungrily. I don’t think that plain, simple bread had ever tasted so good. After devouring half of the loaf, I stopped, stood up and walked on a little more. It wouldn’t do to lay down and sleep right at the edge of the forest where people might see me in the morning. I went down the trails for a little bit, then decided that it might be best not to follow such an obvious path. Turning sharply to my right, I pushed through the undergrowth. I walked on for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time. Soon, as the pink light of dawn was pushing through the canopy of leaves above my head, I fell to the ground, exhausted. I hadn’t walked that long for my entire life. My legs were burning, and my feet ached. My soft, embroidered slippers, while good for sneaking around the castle, were utterly useless in the wilderness, and were now shredded and soaked in blood from the cuts and scratched on my feet.

I spread out my cloak and lay down upon it, my head pillowed on my arms. It was so incredibly soft, so comfortable…I fell asleep within minutes to the sound of bird chirping in the boughs above me.


I awoke to the feeling of something warm and furry curling up next to my stomach. Forgetting where I was, I shifted my weight to accommodate the little critter, thinking it was one of the cats back at the castle. Until a rock dug into my shoulder, and I opened my eyes in exasperation. And found myself looking down at a round ball of brown fur with a soft black nose, doe-like brown eyes and claws as long as my pinky.

I almost screamed, then thought better of it and just lay there, silently shaking.

I knew what a bear looked like from seeing them in books, or from looking at the stuffed collection in my fathers trophy room; but I had never been this close to one, even if it was only a cub. All the storied I had heard from the woodsmen sitting in the kitchen after a long days work, gossiping over a pint of ale had always portrayed bears as vicious, man-eating monsters. I was terrified. Eventually, I realized that this bear was only a few weeks old, and, apparently, thought I was its mother. Growing bored with my shaking warmth, it heaved itself to its feet and lumbered over to my basket.

Reaching out to grab it from its hungry little paws, I suddenly felt what I can only assume was my maternal instincts kick in. I pawed through the basket and pulled out a few slices of ham. Handing them to my furry companion, I watched fondly as he (she, it?) ripped them apart with unalloyed glee. Once the initial fear had passed, I thought it was kind of cute. As you might have guessed, dear reader, I wasn’t exactly very animal smart. If this had happened to me now, I would probably back away and try to run, not feed the silly thing. As it was, I pulled out my book and flipped through it, trying to find anything on animals.

As luck would have it, there were a fair amount of blank pages in the end, and there was a very long a detailed description written in spidery handwriting of how to hunt, clean, and cook many different wildlife. Looking at some of the illustrations made me feel a little sick to my stomach (I was always the soft-hearted rescuer of mice growing up), so I turned the pages. There was a section about how to cure leather and make your own clothing, how to make tools out of materials in the forest, and, strangely enough, a section on how to catch and train your own falcon. I had seen some of the falcons in the royal mews, but I had never actually been near one. I used to watch from my window as some of the stable boys would learn how to handle the proud birds, but I was too shy to ask to be shown.

Sorry it's so short, and ends so weirdly, I was simply unable to write much more than I did, what with midterms, having to practice piano, drums, voice, assorted percussion, etc., oh, and the fact that I just got World of Warcraft, which is the most amazing MMORPG (Massive Multi-player Online Role Playing Game) ever! I have about six characters going, and I can't decide which ones I'm really serious about playing, so they're all doing basicly the same quests, just at different times. It's really confusing, but my fellow guild members are total sweethearts! :love:

Yay, glad you got a chance to update! Again, you are so talented when it comes to descriptions. I really felt like I was there with her, experiencing all those new sights and feelings. I can't imagine how different it would have to be for someone who was raised a princess to suddenly have to fend for herself. It should be interesting to see where this goes, especially since she is feeding a bear!

Looking forward to more!

Feeeeeeeee!!!!!!

I'm sooo glad that you're here again!! Sorry its taken me so long, ditto with the finals, etc.

As has been sad probably a billion times by myself, Anna and any other fortunate soul who've read your work - descriptions are freaking AMAZING! :bow: I just, it feels like a movie, y'know? Like I'm totally there with her and feeling what she feels and all that jazzy stuff.

Post more soon. Or certain death will become you.

Hold me, retard. :lmao: I loooove that icon!

:heartbeat:
Sam

This is brilliant! You have such a beautiful, descriptive style. I can't wait to see what adventures await this princess!! And I feel so sorry for the way she was just going to be married off to that guy!! How terribly awful for her!!
And secondly welcome to the site. I hope you like it here, I know that the rest of us do!!
Can't wait for more!!
Chloe xxx

Great update...and I am glad you got the chance to do it so quickly.
I really enjoyed reading about her first experiences outside the castle.
The world must be looking certainly amazing to her eyes.

Aww and the cute little bear was adorable.
I love bears and it was certainly nice to read about one.
I only wonder were its momma is,
a angry and very large bear is not something to look forward to

Great descriptions
and I love the way this is heading!!

Okay guys.........

1: Sorry, but this isn't an update.
2: I need a name for our furry friend. Any ideas? I need something that isn't too "cutesy" but isn't too...well...boring.
3: There is no number three! :devil:
4: Ambrosia, I just read the ENTIRETY of Accidentally in Love in one afternoon instead of reading Hedda Gabler for english. Time well spent in my opinion. :bow: Wow.
5: You guys are so sweet! :heartbeat:

Name him er...Yogi! ROFL. erm...Aladdin is cute I think ehe.

:heartbeat: Pat

I can't wait for more and OMG totally agree with you on having too many characters and not able to figure out what you want them to do. lol.

Bambi.

No, um... Mellon? as in friend?

Go through the elvish phrases and words we found at HMS...

I just noticed that 'Fannella' means jumper in Greek. She's Queen Jumper! lol.

:heartbeat: Pat

lol...It's supposed to mean "white shoulder" in Gaelic (according to babynames.com)...that's pretty nifty, eh? So she's a white shouldred jumper! ^_^

Awww, thank you so much for reading it! I'm glad it entertained you for an afternoon! :yes:

And, I love your avvie!

ARGH!!!

:anger: WB is terrible. :anger:

beheheh nifty name for a queen! so everyone can soo take her seriously!

:heartbeat: Pat

Ok...I'm a bit late, trying to catch up on all these wonderful fics here. I have to say I love your writing, it's great! The way you have her think and everything, and the description is fantastic. Ah yes, and the bear = super adorable. Too bad I missed out on the name brainstorming. For some reason, I can picture the main character running out into the field and singing "there must be more than this provincial life!" :lol:

I can't wait to see how this adventure unfolds. Brilliant work so far. :yay: