Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there lived a king and queen, who ruled over a small kingdom bordered by a great lake.
Though the domain of House Harrington was not as powerful as some, the queen and king were cunning and gifted in matters of diplomacy. Her honeyed words soothed over any ruffled feathers, allowing him to negotiate and sign trade agreements with their neighbors that let their lands prosper.
In the eyes of the nobles who benefited from such an arrangement, the monarchs were well-beloved. And of course, the king and queen were kind and generous to those of their own station, heaping gifts upon those who praised them the loudest.
The couple was fortunate indeed, but one final boon managed to evade their grasp. Despite a fruitful harvest of wealth and power, the couple had never been blessed with a child of their own.
The lack of a successor borne of their own flesh and blood was a never-ending source of embarrassment for the king and queen. No noble dared speak of it in their presence, of course. But behind closed doors, some members of the court prepared to war among themselves for the privilege of their child being named the monarch’s heir. Still others sharpened their knives, ready to carve the kingdom up for themselves.
Over the years, the couple’s shame and resentment towards each other grew and festered, until they coveted a child more than anything else in the world.
Finally, one day the pair grew desperate enough to travel in secret and seek out an audience with the reclusive Witch of the Lake, who lived at the edges of their kingdom all alone on an island constantly shrouded in mists.
The witch met them at his doorstep. At first glance, his appearance was that of a young man. But upon a closer look, a far more ancient wisdom could be seen deep within his grey eyes.
“And why does royalty grace my doorstep this evening?” he asked of them as he lit a pipe carved with all manner of runes.
The king and queen demanded a miracle of the witch. The witch’s face remained impassive, giving nothing away.
“You have a prosperous kingdom, why would you ask for more?”
The king spoke first.
“We have built a great legacy over our lifetimes and do not wish for it to be dismantled so easily. An heir will ensure our great work was not in vain.”
The witch puffed on his pipe as he turned to the queen.
“And why do you, fair Queen, wish for a child?”
“A child of our flesh and blood could speak of our virtues long after we have passed, allowing all to emulate and lead by our example,” she replied.
The witch considered their words.
“Very well,” he said. “I can grant you what you desire, but it will come with a price. Your child shall never truly be loved by another, unless they are seen and accepted for who they are.”
The king and queen looked at each other in bemusement. What a small price to pay! The pair had more than enough cleverness and intelligence between them. Surely such a union would result in a child who would be everything they dreamed of, if not more.
And so, a bargain was struck, and a potion brewed under the light of a new moon. The monarchs left the witch’s island contented, having paid him handsomely for his services.
The following spring, a squalling star-marked boy was born. His parents named their little prince Stephen, and hosted a great feast in celebration, satisfied that they had obtained the prize they’d coveted for so long.
Time passed, and the prince grew from a crying infant into a curious child.
The king decided Stephen, though still young, was old enough to begin to learn the art of negotiation and politics. To his son, he imparted “always project an air of confidence” as a pearl of wisdom. Stephen, unsure and unskilled, did his best, hoping for his father’s approval. But the words spoken by those assembled went over his head, and he chose silence over speaking in a fool’s tongue. The visiting diplomats chuckled and in condescending tones, praised his quiet demeanor. The king fumed, furious his son had been of no assistance. Stephen was not allowed to attend any meetings after that.
In light of her husband’s failure, the queen oversaw her son’s tutelage personally. She gave him thick tomes on mathematics and matters of trade that she herself had learned from as a young girl. Stephen set upon the books with gusto, eager to win his mother’s praise. But the small words on the page danced and swam in his vision. He begged his mother to allow him to see the finer points of trade set in motion at their kingdom’s ports, where he could learn from the source directly. But the queen simply scolded him.
“Such work is beneath a prince,” she said. “You must never mingle with common folk or lower yourself to the station of a dockworker.” The queen soon gave up on her son, frustrated with his stumbling clumsiness as he read aloud to himself. For many years, Stephen was left to other tutors.
One day, the master of arms informed the monarchs that Stephen excelled in feats of athleticism. The king and queen were pleased. Perhaps finally, their son would shine as brightly as he was supposed to. For the prince’s fourteenth birthday, his parents organized a grand tournament. Stephen delighted in the games. In every event, he was deemed second- or third-best against truly masterful challengers. Surely now, his parents would see how hard he had trained. But as each winner was declared and another person’s arm was raised in final victory, his parents’ expressions grew stormier and stormier. To spare themselves ‘further embarrassment’, Stephen was barred entry to future contests of skill.
And so, on and on the seasons continued turning. The prince’s parents held tightly to their lofty expectations for their son. No matter how hard he tried, the prince could never quite meet them.
Once again, the other noble families in private mocked the king and queen for producing such an imbecile. More than one wondered aloud how someone as talentless as the prince could one day rule.
Eventually, Stephen came of age to marry, and the monarchs turned their attentions elsewhere. If their son failed to match their brilliance, they would have to find someone who could. The perfect partner had to exist, one who would make up for every flaw and fault in their offspring’s character.
Prince Stephen was left behind as the king and queen set off with their retinue on extensive travels, unable to understand the emptiness in his parents’ hearts, and forever mourning the loss of their love.
