It all started as a spur-of-the-moment request, one evening when I was feeling suffocated by the endless pomp and circumstance of royal life. Mother was occupied with her meetings, Father was off in his war planning (all of which seemed terribly boring), and I had nothing scheduled but to sit on my bed, stare at the ceiling, and wonder why we didn't have more cookies.
And then, it came to me.
"Wouldn't it be funny if I told you all a story?" I asked the maid, who had been dusting for what felt like hours. She paused, mid-stroke of her feather duster, and shot me a skeptical look. She wasn't used to me being anything but a princess with a schedule packed full of formalities.
"Your Highness?" she said, blinking in confusion.
"Yes! A story. Like the ones I read before I was a princess. You know, the ones my tutor used to bring me? The ones with villains, heroes, dragons, and mysteries."
She set down her duster, eyeing me as though she wasn't entirely sure whether this was some sort of trap.
"Don't worry," I said with a sly grin. "You can sit and listen with the others. I promise, no fire-breathing dragons this time. Just a story."
And so, for the very first time, I spun a yarn.
Act One: The Story Begins
It was a Wednesday evening, a typical time for the royal kitchen staff to be preparing the evening's feast. The aroma of cakes and roasting meats wafted through the air, but I had my own agenda.
I had gathered my tight-knit group of friends (Meryn, Kellan, Linnea, and a few of the kitchen staff) in a hidden corner of the castle, ready to begin my tale.
"In my previous life," I began, leveling them with my most serious face, "I was the daughter of a villainess who tried to conquer the kingdom by charming her way to the throne. Only she never realized she had no charm. Not even a little." I paused dramatically. "But she had something else. Ambition."
The kitchen staff leaned in, intrigued. The servants, who normally saw me as nothing more than a princess in the making, now looked at me as if I had just revealed the secret of eternal life.
"I'll tell you about my mother," I continued, voice dripping with entertainment. "She had a special trick. She always threw wonderful balls, you see. Not to make friends, but to manipulate the most powerful people in the land. She was brilliant at it, but she never realized that people resented being manipulated. Especially courtiers." I lowered my voice, leaning in. "And occasionally, she'd try a bit of magic, attempting to get her own way—though she was absolutely terrible at it, and more often than not, she'd turn herself into a duck."
Note from Meryn: "A duck?"
"Yes, a very frustrated one," I said with a grin. "But the moral of the story is: never underestimate what people will do in reaction to a well-planned dinner party." I smiled. "It's the small things, after all."
Act Two: The New Ritual
It didn't take long for this little storytelling session to become a ritual. The servants began gathering in that same corner every Wednesday, and my friends from the commoner side of the palace grounds started bringing their own little stories as well. Each tale would take a different turn—sometimes mythical creatures would appear, other times it was the story of a knight who met a tragic end, or a misplaced princess who found herself in heroism (which, by the way, I could relate to).
I was teaching them the fine art of storytelling, something my past life had given me plenty of practice in. The humorous part was, I wasn't just storytelling anymore—I was subtly imparting lessons to them. Lessons about power, cunning, and how to manipulate a situation. My past life had turned me into a master manipulator, but I cloaked it all under a veil of humor and fantasy.
A week later, Linnea told the story of a prince who inherited a crumbling kingdom and the deceitful means he used to convince his people they were invincible—by lying to them enough times to make them believe it.
"And what happened to him?" Kellan asked, clearly intrigued.
"He ruled the kingdom for years," Linnea said, "but eventually, the truth caught up with him. His people weren't invincible after all."
I grinned. "That's why you always prefer to have the truth on your side. Or, at least, that you're good at hiding it."
Act Three: My Turn
One evening, as we all gathered for yet another round of storytelling, I realized everyone's eyes were on me, waiting for my story. A soft hush fell over the room.
"Alright, alright," I replied, theatrically extending my legs. "This story was never told before. It's about a princess—not unlike myself—who was constantly underestimated by her family. She had a knack for being underestimated. And when no one anticipated it, she turned the tables and outsmarted the king, the queen, and even her own brother, who thought he'd always be next in line."
"Wait a minute," Meryn interrupted, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Is this... you?"
I gave her a sly wink. "Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just a story. Who's to know?"
They all laughed, but in the recesses of my mind, I knew it was more than just a story—it was a warning, a reminder that even a little princess with a crown could learn the biggest tricks of the trade.
From that day forward, every Wednesday evening became a ritual. The palace staff, Meryn, Kellan, and Linnea would gather around, and I would entertain them with tales from my past life, weaving in lessons about power, intrigue, and ambition—keeping them in stitches while also keeping them on the edge of their seats. They always wanted more, and I'd always offer just a little more. Who doesn't love a good story with a twist, after all?
And as for me? Well, I was practicing. In my own way. One story at a time.