Claims Part 1
Over the years, many people have come to the castle with claims about their identity
The king looked down at the little girl, with a slight frown. She was so small, maybe four or five - well, if this claim was genuine she was four and three months. Her hair was blonde, a much paler blonde than he remembered it, more like sand and less like gold, but then hair color changed with time.
So did memories.
"You see," said the man who had brought her, found her, rescued her from hooligans and brought her straight back to the castle like the good Samaritan he was, "she's the spitting image. I took one look at her and I knew - I just knew that this little lady was the Lost Princess."
Funny that the man knew at first glance and the king did not. His failure to judge the claim immediately drained at his soul. If this was his daughter, shouldn't he know immediately? There should be some kind of connection, like a bolt of lightning or a firework exploding in his mind. Or maybe even something less dramatic like a tingle down his spine or a flutter in his heart.
He didn't feel that with this girl. Maybe that meant that it was a false claim - it certainly sounded contrived. But then again, maybe it meant that he had lost touch with his child.
Would he know her when he saw her?
He asked himself that fairly often, but it was only at times like these when the question truly pressed on him.
He knelt down to view her at eye level and she ducked back behind the legs of the man who had brought her, her little fists gripping his pants, her green eyes wide, her thin lips pressed together shyly.
"Now, now, Princess," the man said, tossing on a strained smile and prying at her grip. "Remember what we talked about?"
She squeezed her eyes closed and buried her face against his leg.
"Remember?" He was speaking through gritted teeth now, his smile taking on the appearance of a shark.
The king wanted to glare at the man, to throw him out of his castle for coming in here with false claims, for getting his hopes up, for making him question his attachment to his lost little girl. And then he was furious with this impostor for what he was doing to the child in front of him.
Were they related or had he kidnapped her away from her real family? For a second he imagined taking this girl away from the man and raising her himself. She'd be better off. She wouldn't replace his own child, but she could make him happy. Maybe she'd fill part of the hole in his heart.
But then that would make him a kidnapper too.
He wanted to glare at him, but he wanted to stare at the girl more. He searched for a resemblance, for that spark. He searched and hoped and maybe it would just happen in just a few more heartbeats everything would click into place.
The girl swallowed nervously as she was pushed forward towards the king. Then, aided by a shove against her back, she rushed forward and threw her arms about his neck, squeaking out a terrified cry of "Daddy!"
Something in his chest jerked, and not at all in the way he had envisioned or hoped for. It was like she had stabbed him.
He blinked several times in shock, his arms instinctively embracing the shivering child. He ran a hand through her hair, noticing that her roots were a lovely shade of chestnut.
Taking a deep, tortured breath, he pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. He traced her cheek with a finger and planted a kiss on her forehead, imagining for only a moment that it was true.
Then he guided her backwards with a nudge.
Part 2
The king looked down at the little girl, with a slight frown. She was so small, maybe four or five - well, if this claim was genuine she was four and three months. Her hair was blonde, a much paler blonde than he remembered it, more like sand and less like gold, but then hair color changed with time.
So did memories.
"You see," said the man who had brought her, found her, rescued her from hooligans and brought her straight back to the castle like the good Samaritan he was, "she's the spitting image. I took one look at her and I knew - I just knew that this little lady was the Lost Princess."
Funny that the man knew at first glance and the king did not. His failure to judge the claim immediately drained at his soul. If this was his daughter, shouldn't he know immediately? There should be some kind of connection, like a bolt of lightning or a firework exploding in his mind. Or maybe even something less dramatic like a tingle down his spine or a flutter in his heart.
He didn't feel that with this girl. Maybe that meant that it was a false claim - it certainly sounded contrived. But then again, maybe it meant that he had lost touch with his child.
Would he know her when he saw her?
He asked himself that fairly often, but it was only at times like these when the question truly pressed on him.
He knelt down to view her at eye level and she ducked back behind the legs of the man who had brought her, her little fists gripping his pants, her green eyes wide, her thin lips pressed together shyly.
"Now, now, Princess," the man said, tossing on a strained smile and prying at her grip. "Remember what we talked about?"
She squeezed her eyes closed and buried her face against his leg.
"Remember?" He was speaking through gritted teeth now, his smile taking on the appearance of a shark.
The king wanted to glare at the man, to throw him out of his castle for coming in here with false claims, for getting his hopes up, for making him question his attachment to his lost little girl. And then he was furious with this impostor for what he was doing to the child in front of him.
Were they related or had he kidnapped her away from her real family? For a second he imagined taking this girl away from the man and raising her himself. She'd be better off. She wouldn't replace his own child, but she could make him happy. Maybe she'd fill part of the hole in his heart.
But then that would make him a kidnapper too.
He wanted to glare at him, but he wanted to stare at the girl more. He searched for a resemblance, for that spark. He searched and hoped and maybe it would just happen in just a few more heartbeats everything would click into place.
The girl swallowed nervously as she was pushed forward towards the king. Then, aided by a shove against her back, she rushed forward and threw her arms about his neck, squeaking out a terrified cry of "Daddy!"
Something in his chest jerked, and not at all in the way he had envisioned or hoped for. It was like she had stabbed him.
He blinked several times in shock, his arms instinctively embracing the shivering child. He ran a hand through her hair, noticing that her roots were a lovely shade of chestnut.
Taking a deep, tortured breath, he pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. He traced her cheek with a finger and planted a kiss on her forehead, imagining for only a moment that it was true.
Then he guided her backwards with a nudge.
Part 2