There once there lived a bride. She was far and wide claimed the most beautiful maiden in the land, and searched for her hand in marriage. But not everyone had such worthy intentions. A band of thieves known as the Black Hand wanted her for their far unvirtous intentions. And what they want, they shall have. The young maiden went riding on a beautiful day, the day before she was to be wedded to her true love, a dashing young prince, who did not have much pull in the way of royalty, but had sworn to do anything for her. She wore a dress of the palest white, wrapped tight around her chest, waist and hips, but falling loose around her so that when she walked, it appeared as if an angel had graced the earth. Her face was flushed with joy and her hair was loose in long golden curls. She truly was an angel fallen from heaven. The grass was green and her stallion since she was young was underneath her. She rounded into the grove of trees where she had first met the prince, and dismounted. Laying out a picnic of grapes, bread, cheese, and the finest wine, she waited in giddy anticipation for her prince. But when he finally arrived, he found the picnic waiting untouched; with his princess nowhere to be seen. And the whole kingdom felt his anger and pain.
Far away, the princess stumbled across muddy uneven ground, her hands being wrenched by the rope tied to the wagon in front of her. Her dress was muddy and ripped, and her cheeks were stained with dirt, and tears slipping out of her eye like rare jewels. While the prince searched on.
Weeks later, her dress was no more as she fetched water and lit fires in her light slip. But her head was held high; she knew that although the bandits saw her as an animal and a slave, she was still a queen.
One night, she stumbled through the flashing lightning and torrents of rain as the pirates rested under their shelter, when out of the black woods, her prince came to her. Her eyes lit up with a joy that can never be replicated when they beheld each others face. All through the night, flashes illuminated brief snapshots of a truly terrifying scene. Her prince fought off droves of the thieves, killing almost sixty throughout the night. When all was finally still, even the rain seemed to abate in the presence of their pure joy. They ran toward each other, finally to be together after a year of toil and searching! The princess’s skin grew warm as droplets of red stained her meager sackcloth. Stumbling a site to strange to be real was illuminated in a single flash. A white and gold jacket, the falling glint of a sword, a blossom of red protruding from the stomach of her fallen prince. The harsh leer of the Bandit king behind him, a now empty crossbow still in his hands. The world spun in a merry go round of colors. And the whole kingdom shuddered as with a wail of agony she wrenched the bolt from her prince’s chest and threw it straight through the Bandit kind. And for the rest of the long night, lay with her dead prince, staining her hair red with his blood, a red that would never wash out.
In her agony, so deep that it was as a thorn rooted in her heart, she searched in vain to find someone, something to blame for her Prince’s murder, becoming obsessed with finding a way to bring him back. She conquered all the lands, staining them with her hatred. On a dark and thunder stricken night, one much like the one she last saw Him in, a mob gathered at the immense mahogany doors that guarded her castle. With axes and torches, they broke it down and stormed through with a thirst for royal blood. The now dark princess ran blindly through the night until she found herself before an immense stone coffin. Her prince. She wailed in agony from his memory, then fell to the ground. A soft silence ensued as a warm glow enveloped her. She looked up, and saw her prince beckoning to her in his wedding jacket, still stained with his own deadly flower. She smiled and dreamily moved toward him, her own dress wafting around her ankles as she took his hand. Together they danced, even a blossom of the deepest red bloomed to match her Prince. Together they flew through the sky, ever happy, ever dancing, and her long golden curls hung loose.