The Tower

P

rincess Beatrix was forced to attend the ball, where the Prince of All Kingdoms would be choosing a bride. The other princesses had worked hard to perfect themselves and their dance, hoping to be chosen by the young man whose ancestors had conquered the world. Beatrix was tempted to sneak out and never return.

Each princess introduced herself before the prince, and the prince danced with one at a time, but they failed to capture his intrigue. Then he met Beatrix, who brightened his eyes without trying at all, and he declared her his bride.

Beatrix was horrified. She’d never wanted to be wedded, especially not to a prince whose lust for power knew no bounds. She had no choice but to flee, leaving her family and castle and possessions behind.

The woods were no place for a princess at night, but Beatrix had nowhere else to go, and the prince and his knights were after her. The moon almost seemed to be acting as a guide, lighting the way and showing her to a small cottage, smoke billowing from its chimney. As Beatrix approached the home, she realized a witch lived inside, for skulls burned on stakes and wind chimes clattered with animal bones.

Hooves beat the ground in the distance. Feeling as if her heart would burst from her chest, Beatrix hurried to the door and knocked frantically.

“Open up!” Beatrix cried. “Please, open up!”

The door opened, and there stood the witch, an old, plump woman with thinning hair and missing teeth. She sneered at the princess, nostrils flaring.

“Royalty,” she spat. “How dare you come to my home!”

“The prince wants me, and I do not wish to be his!” Beatrix said. “I do not wish to belong to any man! Please, help me, I’ll give you anything!”

The witch studied her as the hoofbeats grew nearer. Then she stepped aside, allowing Beatrix into the warm cottage, and she closed and locked the door behind the princess.

“You may stay tonight,” the witch told her. “At the first light of dawn, you will leave this place.”

“Thank you,” Beatrix said, “but I don’t think the prince will stop looking for me. I need protection. Perhaps you could turn him into a rodent, or give me a spell for invisibility?”

“I could put you in my cauldron,” the witch said.

Beatrix didn’t speak for the remaining night. She slept on the floor with a just a thin, fraying blanket over her body, and when the morning light kissed her eyelids, she found herself cold, alone, and shelterless in the woods.

Wasting no time, Beatrix got up and continued her escape, hugging the blanket around her shoulders. She ran and ran until the sun retired and her legs screamed for rest. When she settled against a tree, her body reminded her that she’d forgotten to feed it, stomach growling and vision swaying. But there were no animals to hunt and no berries to forage. Not in the growing darkness.

The delicious smell of food greeted her nose. Beatrix didn’t bother wondering whether she were imagining it, getting back on her feet and following the scent. Firelight shone beyond a thicket, and Beatrix made her way through and discovered a dining table of cooked meat, cheese, vegetables, wine, and cakes in the middle of a candlelit clearing. She took a plate and fork and ate until her belly was full, and she soon fell asleep in the grass.

Upon waking up, Beatrix realized she was in a very different place. It was a land of the lushest greenery, with impish, winged creatures perched on massive flowers and towering mushrooms—a fairy court! The crowned fairy king flitted about in the air overhead, looking down at her with a malicious glee in his eyes.

“You have consumed the feast of fairies,” he declared. “As per fairy law, you belong to our world now.”

Rather than despair, Beatrix was relieved.

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “You saved me!”

The fairy king and his folk were baffled.

“What did you say?” the fairy king asked.

“You saved me,” Beatrix repeated. “You see, I was trying to get away from the Prince of All Kingdoms because he wanted to make me his bride. I’d have to keep running for the rest of my life if it weren’t for you!”

The fairy king hesitated. Then he bared his sharp teeth in a grin.

“Of course!” he said. “But what did you say before that?”

“Thank you?” Beatrix said, and she covered her mouth, realizing her mistake too late.

The fairy king laughed. “Indeed! Now, as per fairy law, you must give to us what we have given you in equal measure.”

“What?” Beatrix said. “How can I do that?”

“You will bring us the finest food from your world,” the fairy king said. “Food that would be served in a castle. Fail and you will be exiled from the fairy realm.”

“But I can’t!” Beatrix said. “I can’t go back to any castle, I’ll be captured and brought to the prince!”

The fairy king conjured a dagger.

“Then you will leave this place forever,” he said, and he swooped down and stabbed Beatrix in the stomach.

Beatrix screamed as her stomach was torn open, and out poured the food she’d consumed in perfect form, as if she’d never eaten any of it. After the last morsel left her body, she passed out and woke up back in the clearing, unharmed, without a feast and with the morning sun blinding her.

Having no choice but to continue, Beatrix forced herself through tears and woods. She walked for what felt like hours, stomach demanding food beyond her reach.

Eventually, she found something.

Not food, but a tower.

A tower that pierced the sky like a long, clawed hand grasping for the heavens, made of a stone so black it appeared to swallow the light. There was only one window, and it was located at the highest floor, barred like a prison cell.

The tower looked anything but inviting, yet Beatrix was desperate, and she ran up to the double wooden doors and knocked.

“Hello?” Beatrix said. “Is anyone here? I’m sorry, I’m just so hungry and lost. I would greatly appreciate any help.”

To her surprise, the doors opened, and with a long creak—but there was no one inside. Just a table full of fresh, cooked food.

Beatrix stopped herself before she took another step. What if this were another trap, she thought?

But she was starving. She had to eat. And eat she did.

“Enjoying the feast?” the Prince of All Kingdoms said.

Beatrix almost choked. The prince was standing in the doorway, clad in black like the tower, looking as pleased with himself as a hunter who’d caught his prey.

“Have you visited your room yet?” he asked, approaching her. “It’s at the top. You will be staying here for a while. What is your name, again?”

Beatrix backed away, refusing to answer him.

“Your name,” the prince demanded. “What is it?”

Beatrix rounded the table as the prince advanced on her, and she spun around and made a sprint for the open door. But the door swung shut and locked, and Beatrix skid to a halt before crashing into it. The prince grabbed her and forced her around to face him, pinning her against the wooden barrier.

“Let go of me!” Beatrix shouted, trying to fight her way out of his strong grip.

“If you don’t speak,” the prince threatened, and he held a dagger to her throat, ceasing her efforts, “then you shouldn’t mind losing your tongue. A wife doesn’t necessarily need one.”

Beatrix was tempted to spit in his face. She would fight to make him lose more than a tongue.

But the truth was that she couldn’t overpower him. She wasn’t sure just how much harm he could do to her, and she didn’t want to find out.

“Beatrix,” she admitted.

The prince grimaced.

“Beatrix,” he repeated, as if the name had an unpleasant taste. “How fiendish. No matter. I will decide on a better name for you.” He pushed her toward the staircase. “Go to your room. You’ve eaten plenty.”

Beatrix refrained from glaring, looking ahead and climbing the stairs all the way to the top. The room was plain, like a servant’s quarters, but at least comfortable. The door shut and locked behind her, sealing her imprisonment. She sat on the bed and cried.

“Poor girl,” a disembodied voice said, sounding like a young, kind man. “I wish I could apologize to her.”

“Hello?” Beatrix said, looking around, but there was no one in the room with her.

“Can you hear me?” the voice asked.

“Yes,” Beatrix said. “Who are you?”

“I’m the tower,” the voice said. “For centuries I have been forced to serve the prince’s bloodline. How are you able to hear me?”

“I don’t know,” Beatrix said. “Are you under a spell?”

“No,” the tower replied. “With magic, I was made alive to keep watch over prisoners and kingdoms. I wish to be free, but there is no way I know of that can free me.”

Beatrix understood that the tower was as trapped as she was. What could she, a princess who had never touched the magical arts, possibly do? She would be married to the prince, and she would be his prisoner for life, rearing his children, the next generation of tyrants.

For days and nights, Beatrix talked to the tower, and he never tired of hearing her and exchanging stories. There was no point in despairing. She wanted to spend the time she had with someone who understood her fated loneliness, someone she would never forget.

The tower was the most gentle and compassionate soul she had ever met. No man could compare. And that was why Beatrix had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

On the last night before the prince would come to collect her, Beatrix gazed out the single barred window at the moon that was losing its fullness, just as she was losing the will to endure her terrible future.

Oh moon, if only you could help me, Beatrix thought.

The moon appeared to brighten.

Hold out your palm, the moon whispered in her mind.

Beatrix held out her palm, and in it collected the moon’s remaining light, taking the form of a pouch.

Offer this to the prince at the wedding, the moon told her.

Beatrix wanted to thank the moon, but it was already gone from the night sky.

In the morning, Beatrix shared a last goodbye with the tower, and the prince arrived and put her on one of his horses. The trek away from the tower was long, and the ache in Beatrix’s heart deepened as the distance between them widened. The castle was grand and made of gold, yet the room the prince gave her was much colder, smaller, and emptier.

“The more obedient you are,” the prince said, “the more luxurious your room will become. I will see you at the wedding, my bride.”

The prince closed the door behind him and locked Beatrix inside. She tried talking to the castle to feel less alone, but the castle ignored her.

On the day of the wedding, Beatrix was dressed in the most extravagant gown and escorted to the castle’s church. Standing before the prince, and trusting the moon, she conjured the pouch and gave it to him.

“My gift to you,” she said, “my prince.”

The prince investigated the pouch and removed a handful of riches. Family members responded with gasps and sounds of awe, as if he’d performed a magic trick, and the prince dropped the riches on the floor.

“Wait,” he said, eyes sparkling with greed as he gazed down into the pouch. “There’s more in here!”

The prince turned the pouch over and shook it, and out poured an endless supply of gold, jewels, and silks.

Beatrix had never felt more betrayed. Such a gift could’ve helped her immensely, but now it was in the prince’s possession, and the moon had told her to give it to him!

Like lightning, the prince’s mother snatched the pouch from her son, and she shook it into her hand, palm overflowing with the same riches. The king grabbed the pouch from the queen, and the queen swiped at him, fighting to have it back. Soon the whole family was baring teeth and nails and unsheathing daggers and swords, and Beatrix ran for cover as everyone launched into a bloody war of avarice and slayed each other.

Nobody except Beatrix was left standing.

Time seemed to stop. Beatrix waited in the silence of the royal blood bath, expecting the prince or one of his relatives to be resurrected. For centuries they had been gods. Now, they were as dead as the executed.

Moonlight streamed in through a window.

“Beatrix,” the moon whispered. “Come, follow my light. I will guide you back to the tower.”

Beatrix took one of the castle horses and followed the moon’s light all the way back to the tower.

But all that was left of the tower was a great, bottomless hole in the ground.

“No!” Beatrix said, dismounting the horse, and she ran to the edge of the hole. “Where is my tower?”

The moon did not answer. Beatrix fell to her knees and stared down into perpetual darkness. She called out to the tower, but no response came other than the echo of her voice. All she could do was give what remained of the tower her tears.

In the corner of her sight, a young man climbed out of the hole, and the ground closed up after him. He stood and Beatrix stood, and the moment their eyes met in the moonlight, she knew he was the tower reborn, and he shared her beaming smile and welcomed her embrace.

The couple returned to the castle, not to rule as king and queen, but to simply live together while the world rejoiced and established new, fairer governments. Beatrix and her love made friends from all over the land and, with the moon’s help, gifted the people riches and other things they needed at the right time. She never had to worry about her safety again, for the moon continued to watch over her and her love, whether it was shining full or hidden in the night.