Once upon a time in the land of before, there was a young and plain princess of no consequence named Mary. Mary was one of many royal offspring, but she had the unique distinction of being the only princess among a plethora of princes. Mary did not think one way another about this singularity until after the day of the wicked dragons visit.
It should be known for comprehension of the dragon’s intent that fateful day, that Mary was quite fond of flowers, and orderly gardens growing all in a row. Thus, Mary had developed a naughty and disobedient habit of slipping through the cracks in the wicked dragons perimeter defenses, and spending hours amid the rows of roses to be found, abundant, fragrant, and lush, all hidden away in the dragons forbidden back garden.
Well this dragon was somewhat particular, thus not inclined to have little girls, of any kind, sitting in its private garden, and it being a wicked dragon’s garden, Mary should have bided its demands to stay out. However, to interject a word in Mary’s defense, she was five or sixish, and being a princess, had never been taught the need to recognize or heed the boundaries of others. So she, in blissful ignorance, continued to find the weak spots in the dragon’s walls, and to slip quietly in, sit in sun, be surrounded by sweet smelling glory, and dream little dreams of heaven.
Little could Mary imagine that she was setting herself up as a beacon for trouble, but a beacon she was, and trouble did find her the day of the wicked dragons visit. For the dragon had at last found a way to punish the wayward little princess for her trespassing. The wicked dragon lied, and with the best lie often being the one with grains of truth interwoven, the dragon decided to lay the mantle of itself over Mary’s shoulders and present it as fact to the queen.
She told the embarrassed queen that her little princess was a liar of the worst kind, that she schemed and planned and wrecked havoc upon the queen’s beloved princes, every where and how she could, and because the queen never came out of doors herself, but had her royal offspring spend the majority of their waking hours in the sunshine, she had no way to verify the veracity of the wicked dragon’s claim of Mary’s duplicity. Still, the quiet reclusive queen absorbed and accepted the dragon’s assertion as truth anyway.
The use of the dark magic by the wicked dragon was suspected, or at least the idea of it was clung to and used by Mary, as a compress to staunch her bleeding wounds, as they were ripped open time and again by the never ending dismissals of her heart felt denials. However dark magic or not the consequence was the same. Henceforth, Mary was never to be believed.
Thus, in this unfortunate fashion, the dragon accomplished its goal, for Mary’s openness and wonder, had been quenched, smothered, and buried by the dragon’s mantle of wickedness, so much so that Mary never desired or considered slipping into the dragons luscious garden to dream again, at least not for many years to come.
Many years to come later, there were two of them, both boys. Mary thrived on familiarity, and having a multitude of princely siblings already, liked boys better herself, just as the dragon had. Therefore it was not their gender that disturbed Mary, it was the dashed hope of some company in her solitariness that had her mourning the lost possibility of a little princess to love.
Also, why did the queen not tell her, perhaps include her in the process of the birthing. She was ten, it would have been kind. Instead it was a surprise when her classmates at school started teasing her that the queen was expecting yet once again, as if it were a bad thing. She fought them tooth and nail, sure that they were mistaken, so sure the queen would have shared if it were so. She of course was wrong, and later devastatingly embarrassed when the boys arrived just as the others had taunted.
Hence she railed against the babies existence to try to balm her battered soul. For these beautiful new beings conveniently put in place, another degree of distance between herself and the quiet queen. It also additionally created a deep painful sorrow that Mary managed to keep hidden safely within, of why did the queen, never even once, consider including her in the mysteries of being female?
Consequently, Mary felt the rift, the one the dragon had created, widen, because now she had been draped with the shroud of child hater as well as liar. Both a falsehood, but Mary did not have the ability within her to communicate this to the now harried queen, so instead, she stood her ten year old self up straight and tall, and with a mighty heave, shook off the heavy mantle gifted to her by the wicked dragon years ago, and proceeded to cloak herself tightly into the folds of false bravado instead.
Then Mary, one last time, slipped into the wicked dragons forbidden garden, stripped it of its blooming bounty, and drew them, thorns and all, into herself, to once again smell the misunderstood roses of her childhood. When unexpectedly their heavenly scent infused her with boundless hope, and Mary contrarily commenced to ponder, scheme, and plan, the dawning age of the quest to capture, the elusive how of happily ever after.