A Taste of Freedom

Royal appearance to be made at the Annual Celebration of The Harvest to take place this Saturday - Including her Royal Highness Princess Genevieve – protocol is to be followed accordingly.

 Amelia was startled as she finished reading the flyer posted up in the middle of the main square of her village. Princess Genevieve had only been seen a handful of times by the villagers, it was rumoured that the royal family frowned on the young princess leaving the palace. Rumours had indeed spread throughout all the villages in the nation that this was due to a rare disease that the Princess had been born with that left her extremely susceptible to illness. The King and Queen, ever so protective of their only daughter, would therefore rarely let her partake in royal affairs. A rare exception could be made where the royal princess was allowed to attend a celebration such as this one, though when she did her personal attendants never left her side, hardly did the King and Queen either if they could help it.

In The Annual Celebration of The Harvest, a group of representatives from all the villages in the nation come together to showcase their best dishes and celebrate another successful season of growing. At the beginning of the celebration, before the feast commences, the Queen is to go around to taste each dish and declare one to receive an Honourable Mention. As Princess Genevieve was to be attending, only royal servants who had been cleared with clean health after extensive screening were permitted to serve the dishes to limit any potential spreading of germs and the princess was kept a minimum of ten feet away from anyone outside of her inner circle.

Amelia remembered first hearing the story of Princess Genevieve as a young girl around eight years old, she had felt a great sadness hearing about this young princess who was so sick and only a few years older than Amelia herself. Her sympathy for the youngest royal seemed to only increase as time went on and the villagers observed that she was not permitted to take part in the normal milestones of royal life, Genevieve was excluded from ceremony after ceremony. Most shocking was the coming-of-age ceremony. The longstanding national custom that when every royal child turns eighteen years of age, they are to dedicate themselves to a cause, after which they will be given command of a small committee and tasked with improving their chosen cause for the commonwealth for the next five years. This ceremony was implemented to bridge the divide and lessen hostility between royalty and commonwealth, not only for the health of the country but for its unity. A unified country is a strong one, a saying especially true for theirs – the smallest of all the neighbouring nations. So long as they had strength in their unity there was little chance that the greatly disunited neighbouring nations would attack, it would too greatly intimidate those whose disunity created problems enough the villagers were told.

The importance of the unity between royalty and commonwealth was indeed so ingrained into the hearts and minds of every villager that as each of Princess Genevieve’s older brothers neared coming of age, the main square would be bustling with people cheerfully preparing celebrations and placing bets on which sector would be helped. Brian, the oldest, chose national defense, Luca chose agriculture, Evan to improve the education of the schoolchildren. When Genevieve neared of age, virtually all bets were placed that she would focus on improving healthcare. There was great shock therefore and rare uproar and protest from the people when it was announced that Genevieve would be kept even from this ceremony for the sake of maintaining her health. That was two years ago, however, and now old news.

Amelia was startled a second time as her friend Flora nudged her shoulder, “Hey Ames, hurry up, we have lots to do today and I’m going to have to leave even earlier today.”

“Even earlier than yesterday?” Amelia replied incredulously, her anxiety evident.

“You know what my parents are like, and unlike you I wasn’t so lucky as to be able to start an independent life the moment I turned eighteen,” she scoffed. “I’m nearly twenty-one and by the way they act you’d think I was turning sixteen.”

 Amelia and Flora had become acquainted shortly after Amelia had started living on her own. Amelia had been looking for work and had seen that Beth, the older woman who ran the Soup Kitchen for those living in poverty, was looking for some extra help. Beth had told Amelia that she did not have the funds to give her a wage, but she could let Amelia work for room and board instead as there was an empty room upstairs. That worked out just fine for Amelia and within a few weeks she had proved herself enough to become Beth’s second in command. The work was straightforward, dependent on whatever Beth needed the most that day. Some days Amelia would maintain the crops in the garden out the back, others she would serve the customers. There would even be days where she would spend the whole day just chopping vegetables. It had been one of those days nearly a year ago when Flora had first come to the Soup Kitchen.

“I appreciate the offer dear, truly, but I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you for it” Beth had said.

“I’ll work for free” Flora had replied, “All I want is to help.”

“Well alright then, I can’t refuse an offer like that now can I? As I said it’s much appreciated, what’s your name?”

“Flora” she had answered and when Amelia had looked up as Beth led her into the back room, she’d found the name very fitting as Flora had weaved daisies into the long tawny hair that was intricately braided down her back.

From that day on the two young women worked together. Flora had learned quickly, and Amelia had found herself admiring the grace that she put into her work. Flora would do anything that was asked of her, and though she was getting nothing in return, she never complained. When serving the poor who turned up at the kitchen, she was the living impersonation of warmth, and you could see the effect on the customers as their shoulders lifted. During their days working in the backroom however, Amelia saw a different sarcastic side of Flora, how she rolled her eyes whenever she overheard the carrying rude remarks of the group of stuck-up, self-serving men who liked to linger on the street smoking their cigars and sneering at passers-by. One day as the men were passing by the open window, Flora, with a gleam in her eye, quickly snatched the compost bin and pretended to fall, effectively dumping the contents of the bin all over the men. As the men strode away grumbling and swearing, Amelia and Flora broke down into fits of laughter, not caring that they would now have to clean up the mess on the road outside. That was the day Amelia knew they were going to become close friends.

This day was Thursday, two days before The Celebration of The Harvest and things were hectic as it was an especially busy day in the Soup Kitchen. They had less available as their ingredients were being used to both feed their customers and make a test batch of the stew which would be entered into the competition. Amelia and Flora were just coming back from the butcher as the test batch would be a beef stew with carrots and potatoes. The two worked together diligently through one of the hardest days they had experienced to date. Two hours before closing, Beth walked into the room to replace Flora at the chopping counter, raving over the batch of beef stew they had recently finished. As Flora was grabbing her things Beth turned to the two young women,

“Before you leave Flora, I have a proposition for you both, how do you feel about taking the stew to the feast and being the representatives for our village this year?”

Amelia enthusiastically agreed but saw Flora’s shoulders tense. She turned to Beth with an apologetic look on her face.

“I would love to, but my parents dislike the royal family and they would never allow it, I’m sorry” she said with a grimace. Then turning to Amelia with what Amelia thought was a very forced smile, “You’ll get a chance to see Princess Genevieve in person, how exciting!”

Amelia nodded in agreement, feeling very sorry that her friend would not be able to join her, and so it was decided that Amelia alone would be the representative for their village that year.

On the day of The Celebration of The Harvest, Amelia filed with many others into one of the palaces’ numerous large ballrooms which had been repurposed into a large dining hall. As she walked carrying the huge pot of stew she marveled at the beauty of the room. She could scarcely imagine what the rest of the palace would look like if this was only one ballroom. She lined up with the others along a long table near the back of the room and they placed down their dishes for the royal servants to serve. The Queen then went up to every dish and tried each in turn. Amelia’s village did not receive The Honourable Mention, but she did not think they would, the East Villages were well known for their desserts and nearly always claimed the mention. This year was no exception as one of the East Villages’ creamy cheesecakes with a mixed berry filling received the honour. After the Queen had announced the winner, everyone was free to begin eating. Once the villagers had sat down to eat, Amelia could finally get a glimpse of the royals, sitting high at a table in the front of the room. She eagerly glanced over at Princess Genevieve – and at that moment Amelia could have sworn that her heart would stop beating from shock. Although it was not in it’s signature braid Amelia would have recognized that tawny head of hair anywhere.

Flora was Princess Genevieve.

 Even as she thought it Amelia tried to deny it, but there was no way to deny that the young woman sitting in between the King and Queen was the same one Amelia worked with everyday. As Amelia’s eyes met Genevieve’s a second thought seemed to pound in her skull,

Flora isn’t sick.

Princess Genevieve watched as what she had been dreading all evening finally occurred. As she saw the shock on her friend’s face she felt as though a hollow pit was opening inside of her, swallowing up her identity as Flora and all the joy that had came with it. Though when her friend’s eyes locked with her own the only expression Genevieve’s eyes conveyed was one that held a warning, and she knew that was enough.

As Amelia broke eye contact with the Princess, it took everything in her to force her face into a neutral expression. She was glad, right then, for the hours of working and serving customers where she had taught herself how to put on a mask of a pleasant and calm demeanor. She took deep long breaths to try and slow the pounding in her ears. For the rest of the event she barely managed to lift her eyes from her plate. When at last the celebration had ended, all that Amelia wanted was to run back to her little room above the Soup Kitchen so that she could process what had just occurred. Instead, she made her way to her parents, who she had promised she would visit and who, she recalled, would want to hear a retelling of the whole evening. She sighed with resignation as she walked into the warm, familiar little house, prepared to keep her mask on for a little while longer.

 When Amelia was at last leaving her parents’ house, she could barely contain herself from breaking into a sprint as she neared her small dwelling. When she walked through the main door of the Soup Kitchen, the woman who Amelia had thought was her best friend was standing with her back facing the door, standing in the room dimly lighted by candlelight wearing a long black cloak with the hood draped over her head. How she got there Amelia did not know – come to think of it she didn’t know how the princess ever managed to come to her village. Genevieve, with her back still turned, began to speak,

“I trust that you will not be sharing my secret, and I hope you won’t make me question my faith in you. I came here to escape my sheltered life, to get a chance to live, to help my people, even if in a small way for only a few of them. What I didn’t expect was to make one of the truest friends I have ever had, and for that I thank you. Now that you know my real identity I won’t be coming back, I know you must have questions, but I’m afraid that any answer I have to them could only be vague. I thought you at least deserved a proper goodbye.”

 Amelia stood still as she absorbed the Princess’s words, and despite them Amelia could not help blurting out the question that had been eating away at her all evening,

 “If you’re not sick then why does your family keep you locked away?”

 Genevieve was silent. The silence was tense, as though Genevieve was internally battling with herself, finally her shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed and replied in a low desolate voice,

“Because there’s something I know - and they don’t want the people to find out the truth.”

“Truth?” Amelia echoed blankly.

 Princess Genevieve turned around to face her. Though in one respect this was the same person Amelia had spent everyday talking to, laughing with and helping others with, another part of her found the Princess to be utterly unrecognizable. The only thing Amelia could recognize in this familiar yet foreign young woman who she would have called her best friend only this morning was the trademark roll of her eyes as she scoffed.

 “You don’t honestly believe that the other nations stay away from us for a reason as simple as the strength of our unity, do you?” she asked with a heavy tone of defeat.

 With this, Princess Genevieve gave Amelia a slight sad smile then strode away.

Amelia could only watch as she disappeared into the dark, her black cloak camouflaging her with the night.